Chapter 35
Chapter 35:
The next morning, Eliza took a cab to the jewelry district. She avoided the glittering stretch of Fifth Avenue where the doormen wore top hats. Instead, she directed the driver to a side street where the shops were smaller, family-owned, and smelled of metal polish and old wood.
She pushed open the door of a small shop called Miller & Sons. A bell jingled overhead.
“I need two bands,” she told the jeweler — an older man with a loupe fixed to his eye. “Simple. Silver. Size 10 and size 6. Can you engrave them today p>
“For a rush fee, sure,” the man grunted.
Eliza chose the plainest silver bands in the case. They gleamed under the halogen lights but felt light in her palm. Inexpensive.
“Engraving?” the man asked, pulling out a notepad.
“Yes. ‘Fortune’ on the large one. ‘Prosperity’ on the small one,” she said, managing a smile.
It cost half her remaining savings. She paid in cash, the bills soft and worn in her hand.
Walking out with the small velvet pouch tucked into her purse, a wave of nausea rolled through her. Was this an insult? Presenting a billionaire with a two-hundred-dollar ring? Would he laugh?
She returned to the penthouse in the late afternoon to find the foyer full of luggage.
“Going on a ski trip with friends!” Azalea announced, dragging a suitcase toward the elevator. She was bundled in a fluffy pink coat, radiating cheerful energy.
𝗗𝗂𝘴с𝗈𝘃𝗲r 𝗵і𝗱𝘥еn ge𝗺𝗌 о𝗻 𝗴𝗮𝗹ոo𝗏е𝗹𝘀.cоm
“I thought you were grounded,” Eliza said, confused.
Azalea leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He thinks I’m grounded. He doesn’t know about the emergency account Grandma set up for me. He’ll assume I caved and begged a friend to cover it — which will satisfy his need to feel like he’s taught me a lesson. Besides, he told me to ‘cool off.’ Translation: he sent me away so you two can have some privacy p>
Heat crept up Eliza’s neck. “Have fun, Az p>
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Azalea called out as the elevator doors slid shut.
The penthouse fell instantly quiet — just the low hum of the refrigerator and the muffled pulse of traffic far below.
Dallas came home at five o’clock sharp.
“You’re early again,” Eliza remarked as he walked into the kitchen.
“I live here,” he reminded her, loosening his tie. He glanced at the empty spot where Azalea usually lounged. “Peaceful p>
“You sent her away,” Eliza said, not unkindly.
“She needs the mountains,” Dallas said, pouring himself a glass of water. “And we need clarity p>
They sat down to dinner. Mrs. Higgins served steak alongside a large bowl of mixed green salad.
Eliza picked up her fork and nudged the lettuce around, scanning out of habit for the thing she always had to remove. She always spent the first five minutes picking out the red onions — she loved the dressing, but raw onion made her gag.
There were none.
She went through the entire bowl. Not a single one.
“Mrs. Higgins?” Eliza looked up.
“Mr. Koch noted your preference in the household file, ma’am,” the housekeeper said from the doorway. “No raw onions p>
Eliza looked at Dallas. He was cutting his steak with his usual surgical precision, eyes on his plate.