As I washed my hands, a conversation drifted in from the hallway.
“Did you see that pink diamond necklace today? Oh my god, it’s enormous—800 million dollars! President Barnes really spares no expense for his wife!”
“I know! Ugh, I’m so jealous. When will I ever meet someone who treats me like that?”
Amid the giddy chatter, a sharp scoff interrupted.
Anastacia’s voice dripped with smugness as she flaunted her wealth.
“A necklace is nothing,” she declared. “My boyfriend was at that auction too, and he bought me an entire set of emerald jewelry.”
I stepped closer to the corridor, catching sight of her stretching out her left hand. On her ring finger, an emerald the size of a pigeon egg sparkled obnoxiously under the light.
“Wow, Anastacia, your emerald is stunning!” One of the women exclaimed. “That must’ve cost a fortune!”
Anastacia shrugged, a smirk playing on her lips. “Not really. The whole set cost only 900 million.”
The collective gasp that followed could have shattered glass.
“Nine hundred million?” someone whispered in awe. “That’s way more than what President Barnes spent on Penelope’s necklace!”
Anastacia nodded with exaggerated nonchalance. “Of course, it is. But what can I say? My boyfriend loves me enough to buy whatever I like, no matter the price.”
The women giggled and probed further. “Anastacia, who’s your boyfriend? Is he a billionaire? When will you introduce him to us?”
Anastacia’s tone turned dismissive. “He’s very prestigious, so meeting him isn’t convenient. But tonight, he’s taking me to the newly opened French restaurant for dinner. Just check my feed later; I’ll post everything there.”
Her words lingered in my mind as I made my way to the garage, where Killian was waiting in the car.
He greeted me with his trademark charming smile. “Ready for dinner, honey?”
I slid into the seat beside him. “Do you have work tonight?”
He shook his head, looking almost offended. “Of course not! I missed our anniversary, and I’m not letting work ruin this evening too. I cleared my entire schedule just to enjoy this meal with you.”
Halfway through the drive, however, Killian abruptly asked the driver to pull over.
“Honey, I’m so sorry,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “The branch manager just messaged me—there’s an urgent matter I have to handle. I’m afraid dinner will have to wait.”