Part 3Trading A Diamond For Tap Water

I flew to Paris for Fashion Week. I didn’t give Everett another thought.

The System gave me daily updates, though. As the "Success Aura" began to drain, Everett’s empire started to leak. Several of his major projects were snatched up by competitors. He had climbed too fast and stepped on too many toes; without the System’s protection, the "Old Money" sharks were finally smelling blood.

I signed a five-figure shopping bill without blinking. "He’s in love, isn't he? He has his little assistant to pour him tap water. Surely a few lost millions shouldn't bother him."

I posted a photo of my new wardrobe to Instagram. Five minutes later, a concierge at my hotel knocked. He was holding a leather-bound catalog.

"Mr. Huxley’s office called, Ms. Stanford. He’s already pre-ordered the entire spring collection for you. It’s being shipped to your Manhattan address as we speak."

I smiled and sent Jasper a text: [Thanks.]

The reply came instantly: [My jet is in Paris. I can fly you back whenever you're ready. Will you do me the honor of dinner when we land?]

I paused. My relationship with Everett had started with a dinner just like that. He’d promised then that he’d never miss a meal with me as long as he was in the city.

I closed my phone and didn't reply.

When I got back to the States, my friend Beatrice invited me to an exclusive equestrian club in Westchester. It was members-only, and each member could only bring one guest.

I used to go as my brother’s guest, but since the wedding, I had been under Everett’s membership.

When the girl at the front desk told me, with an embarrassed look, that I wasn't on the list, I was genuinely confused for a split second.

Then I saw her. Megan was standing there, trying to look poised in a designer riding outfit that clearly didn't fit her right.

"Mrs.—I mean, Ms. Stanford. I’m so sorry. I told Everett I’d never seen a real stable before, and he insisted on bringing me. I didn't realize I was taking your spot..."

She’d ditched the glasses and was wearing twenty thousand dollars worth of couture, but the provincial, small-minded insecurity still radiated off her.

Beatrice was about to tear her a new one when Everett walked in.

"Chessy."

He said my name as if nothing had changed, as if we were still the golden couple of the year.

"I heard you were in Paris. I used to pre-order all those collections for you. You’ve always been a loyal client of the French houses; it would be a shame for your collection to be incomplete this season."

But then he opened his mouth again and ruined it.

"Stop being difficult. I’ll have someone buy you the couture. I’m here to meet a partner who happens to be Megan’s former classmate. I need her here. So, don't play today, okay? Just go home and wait for me. We’ll talk later."

I stepped back, looking him in the eye. "Everett, do you really think I’m only worth the price of a few dresses?"

Beatrice reached for her phone. "Don't worry, Chessy. I think my brother is a member here..."

She glared at Everett, disgusted.

"If Ms. Stanford doesn't mind, she can come as my guest."

The group turned. Everett’s face went pale.

Standing there was Hugo Blackwood

He was Everett’s biggest rival for the new downtown redevelopment project.

I gave Hugo a small, elegant nod. "Thank you, Mr. Blackwood I’d appreciate that."

Hugo smiled, his eyes warm. "The pleasure is entirely mine."

I walked past Everett without a word. Behind me, I heard Beatrice’s voice, dripping with honeyed malice.

"Oh, Everett, didn't you know? Years ago, Hugo rented out the entire Brooklyn Bridge just to ask our Chessy for a date. It was on the front page of every tabloid. You were always just the runner-up."