’What did he do to her?’ Claire thought, not for the first ti. ’What did he actually do?’
The Four Seasons Garden building was part of it, obviously. You didn’t give soone a hundred-million-dollar gift and leave no impression. But Claire had watched Sophie date wealthy n before, or rather, watch them try to date her. Money alone had never moved the needle. Sophie had turned down Ferraris and Patek Philippes and penthouse invitations from n whose net worth dwarfed most of the city. She wasn’t a woman who could be bought.
So it wasn’t the building. Not entirely.
It was sothing else, sothing in the way Stan carried himself, or the way he looked at Sophie, or the way he’d walked into a hostile crowd and asked for her Snapchat like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sothing Claire couldn’t quite na and couldn’t quite argue against.
She exhaled slowly and picked up her phone from the counter.
"Fine," she said. "I give up. But if he breaks your heart, I reserve the right to say I told you so."
"Deal," Sophie said, and went back to washing the dishes.
anwhile, The Four Seasons Garden building’s private dining floor was warm, softly lit, and filled with the quiet murmur of expensive conversations happening at carefully spaced tables. Stan and Maya settled into a table near the center of the room, a good spot, with a view of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows and enough distance from the nearest diners to talk freely.
They’d barely unfolded their napkins when the atmosphere behind them shifted.
A large group was being seated at the adjacent table, twelve, maybe fifteen people, arranging themselves with the noisy, self-important energy of an entourage that existed primarily to make one person feel important.
Stan didn’t recognize any of them.
Then the crowd parted slightly, and the person at its center ca into view.
Vivian Reeves.
She was dressed differently tonight, sothing dark and structured, probably worth more than the table they were sitting at, and she moved through her entourage with the proprietary ease of a queen moving through her court. Every head at the table turned to track her as she sat. Every voice adjusted its volu to accommodate hers.
Stan watched the whole performance through his peripheral vision and quietly returned his attention to the nu.
’Of course she’s here. Of course.’
The universe, it seed, had developed a personal interest in making sure Stan Harrison and Vivian Reeves occupied the sa square footage as often as possible.
The group behind them wasted no ti launching into the particular brand of aggressive flattery that surrounds people with money and influence.
"Sister Reeves, I heard you’re working at an entertainnt company now? In Velaris City?"
Vivian’s voice carried easily across the gap between tables, not because she was being loud, but because she had the particular diction of soone who had never in her life needed to raise her voice to be heard.
"That’s right. I’m managing one of the branch offices at Star Entertainnt Company."
"Star Entertainnt? The Star Entertainnt?"
"No way, that’s one of the biggest entertainnt conglorates in the world."
"I heard they’re comparable to Netflix. Is that true?"
Vivian’s lips curved into a smile that managed to be simultaneously modest and deeply self-satisfied.
"It’s true. We’re one of the top tier companies in the global entertainnt industry. I oversee talent developnt at the Velaris branch, scouting promising individuals, managing their training pipelines, building their public profiles."
"Do you actually have celebrities working under you?"
"Several." She said it the way soone might confirm they owned several pairs of shoes, casually, as if the number were too small to be interesting but worth ntioning nonetheless.
"I’ve been actively scouting new talent recently, in fact. Looking for the right faces, the right potential."
The flattery doubled in intensity. A dozen voices tripped over each other in their eagerness to align themselves with Vivian’s orbit.
"Sister Reeves, you have to let know if there are any openings—"
"I’d love to work under you after graduation—"
"If you ever need an assistant, I’m available starting imdiately—"
Vivian absorbed it all with the practiced grace of soone who had been receiving this particular brand of worship since birth. She was in her elent, the center of a circle, the sun around which lesser bodies gratefully orbited.
Maya, sitting across from Stan, raised an eyebrow. Despite herself, she looked genuinely impressed.
"Star Entertainnt is no joke," she said quietly, leaning across the table. "They’re one of the most powerful dia companies in the country. Having access to their talent pipeline at her age, that’s serious influence."
Stan said nothing. He was staring at the logo on a business card one of Vivian’s companions had set on the table beside an untouched glass of wine.
’Star Entertainnt Company.’
The na echoed in his mind, and for a mont he couldn’t place why it felt so familiar. Then the mory surfaced, clear, precise, unmistakable.
Yesterday. The rain. The binding notification.
’Binding successful. Reward: 30% of Star Entertainnt Company shares.’
Star Entertainnt huh?
Stan Harrison owned thirty percent of the company Vivian Reeves was currently bragging about managing a branch office of.
He almost choked on his water.
Vivian, as if sensing his attention, or perhaps simply unable to resist the opportunity to twist a knife, turned in her chair and fixed him with a cold, pointed stare.
"Star Entertainnt Company," she said, enunciating each word with deliberate clarity, "is one of the most prestigious entertainnt conglorates on the planet. Comparable to Netflix, HBO, the very top of the industry."
She paused, letting the weight of the nas settle.
"Soone like you has probably never even heard of it. Have you?"
Her smile was thin, sharp, and designed to cut.
"You couldn’t get through the front door of a company like this in your entire lifeti. Not as an employee. Not as an intern. Not even as a visitor."
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