Felix walked with renewed confidence through the designer flagships, past private viewing rooms and velvet-roped displays, until they reached a large open atrium at the center of the floor.
The space was roughly thirty square ters, cordoned off by crimson ropes and monitored by a uniford security guard who stood at relaxed attention. In the very center, elevated on a slim glass pedestal and illuminated by a single focused spotlight, was a necklace.
Stan saw Sophie’s breath catch.
It was, by any honest asure, extraordinary. The piece was a cascade of diamonds and sapphires set in white gold, each stone catching the overhead light and fracturing it into a thousand tiny prisms. The design was architectural, precise, balanced, almost mathematical in its elegance, but the effect was purely emotional. It didn’t just catch the eye. It held it.
"So beautiful," Sophie whispered, almost to herself.
She wasn’t alone. A small cluster of won had gathered at the rope line, craning their necks, phones raised, speaking in the hushed, reverential tones that people normally reserve for galleries and cathedrals.
Felix turned to Stan with the satisfied expression of a man who had finally found the perfect trap.
"You said you only buy expensive things. Well?" He gestured at the necklace with an open palm. "There it is. Buy it."
He folded his arms and settled into a spectator’s posture, visibly relishing the mont.
Stan looked at the necklace. Then at Sophie.
"Do you like it?"
Sophie’s eyes were still on the display. She nodded, almost shyly.
"I do. It’s the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever seen." Then, catching herself, she added quickly: "But if it’s too expensive, don’t. Really. It’s fine."
"Expensive?" Stan let out a small, quiet laugh. "Nothing is expensive to , darling."
The word darling landed softly between them. Sophie’s cheeks flushed.
[Sophie Youngs: Favorability 68]
Stan held her gaze, his voice dropping into sothing lower and more earnest.
"If you want it, I’ll get it. If you wanted the stars, I’d find a way to pull them down for you."
He’d prepared the line in advance. He knew exactly how it sounded, theatrical, over-the-top, the kind of thing that belonged in a drama script. But he also knew his audience.
Sophie’s lips parted slightly. Her eyes widened. And for a mont, she looked at him as if he were the only person in the entire building.
[Sophie Youngs: Favorability 69]
[Sophie Youngs: Favorability 70]
[Sophie Youngs: Favorability 71]
The numbers surged.
And with them, sothing inside Sophie quietly unlocked. The last residual trace of wariness, the thin, brittle shell the forum post had wrapped around her instincts, cracked apart and fell away. She’d been cautious. She’d been guarded. She’d kept a small, careful distance between what she felt and what she allowed herself to believe.
But standing here, watching this man insist on buying her the most expensive necklace in the building after gifting her an entire residential tower, watching him refuse cheap things not out of poverty but out of principle, watching him face down Felix’s relentless mockery without once losing his composure or his dignity,
’The rumors are lies,’ she thought with sudden, crystalline clarity. ’All of them. Fabricated by people who can’t stand seeing with him.’
Her gaze drifted briefly to Felix, and a cold suspicion settled in her chest. The timing of everything, the forum post appearing overnight, Felix showing up the very next morning with his Ferrari and his convenient concern for her safety, was too neat. Too coordinated. She couldn’t prove it, but she didn’t need to. Her instincts were telling her everything she needed to know.
"Forget it," Sophie said softly, touching Stan’s arm. "You don’t need to buy it. Just being here with you is enough."
Stan frowned internally. ’No. Absolutely not. forget it.’
This necklace was the most expensive item in the entire shopping center. His six-tis rebate, now seven tis rebate was live and waiting. If he spent three million on this piece, he’d receive eighteen million in return. Walking away from this purchase would be like leaving a winning lottery ticket on the counter and saying maybe next ti.
"I’m buying it," he said, his voice gentle but immovable. "I said I would, and I will."
Sophie looked up at him, and whatever she saw in his expression made her stop arguing.
’He really ans it. He’s not performing. He’s not trying to impress Felix. He genuinely wants to do this for .’
In that mont, Stan Harrison beca, in Sophie Youngs’s private estimation, the best man she had ever t. Not because of the money, though the money was staggering, but because of the way he wielded it. Without hesitation. Without conditions. Without the slightest expectation of anything in return.
Felix, by contrast, had spent the entire day following them around like a stray dog, buying unwanted rings, making snide comnts, and treating generosity as a competitive sport. The comparison was so unflattering it was almost cruel.
Stan turned to the security guard.
"How much is this necklace? And where do I pay?"
"Three million two hundred thousand dollars," Felix cut in before the guard could speak, unable to resist one last mont of showmanship. "The most expensive piece in the entire building."
His grin was wide and predatory. He already knew what ca next, because he already knew the necklace wasn’t for sale.
The security guard confird it with a polite, apologetic bow.
"I’m sorry, sir. This piece is a display item. It’s not currently available for purchase."
Felix’s grin widened into sothing almost gleeful.
"Oh no," he said, with theatrical sympathy. "What a sha. You were so ready to buy it, too." He turned to the surrounding onlookers, making sure everyone was watching. "Didn’t you say you wanted to buy it? Weren’t you the man who only buys expensive things? Go on, then. Buy it."
Stan ignored him. He looked at the security guard.
"It’s a display piece. Not for sale. Is that the store’s final position, or is there soone I can speak to about it?"
"I’m afraid that’s the policy, sir. The necklace is part of a promotional exhibit and,"
"Stan, forget it." Sophie tugged gently at his sleeve. "It really doesn’t matter."
"It matters," Stan said quietly.
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