"Chloe, don't you think this is a bit… too much?" Nadia asked, her arms crossed as she watched Chloe toss yet another box of designer bags into the arms of a boutique attendant already struggling under the weight of the previous ones.
Chloe barely looked up. She was admiring herself in a floor-length mirror, turning slightly to catch the shimmer of her emerald heels under the spotlight's soft gleam. "Come on, Nadia," she said with a breezy laugh, "nothing is too much for us. Not under my watch."
Nadia offered a small, knowing smile, the warmth in Chloe's voice melting the edge of her usual sarcasm. She'd known Chloe since high school — they'd survived toxic roommates, failed makeup tutorials, skipped classes, and late-night heartbreaks together. Their bond was the kind that time only deepened. No one made her laugh like Chloe, and no one dared to cross her twice.
With a flick of her perfectly styled hair, Chloe turned toward Nadia and placed her hands on her hips.
"Besides…" she said, drawing out the word as her eyes gave Nadia a critical once-over, "you look skinny. And—" she squinted, wrinkling her nose slightly, "a little oddly shaped today. Has anyone told you your outfit is trying too hard to convince me it's a dress?"
Nadia rolled her eyes. "Thanks, fashion guru. Maybe next time I'll borrow one of your 'modestly-priced' thousand-dollar scarves."
Chloe chuckled, unbothered. She twirled her finger in a playful command. "Come on. Spin for me. Let me see what I'm working with."
Nadia groaned but humored her, turning slowly in place like a mannequin being inspected. Chloe nodded thoughtfully, pursing her lips like she was about to deliver a verdict on a reality show.
"You're lucky I love you," she said with a wink. "Otherwise, I'd have to publicly disown that outfit."
"Public humiliation is your love language, I guess," Nadia muttered under her breath as they made their way to the checkout counter.
The boutique's cashier stood behind a glass counter, posture perfect and smile professionally neutral. She began scanning the designer items without flinching — Dior, Fendi, Balmain, Yves Saint Laurent — each beep more expensive than the last.
"That'll be - hundred and twenty thousand U.S. dollars, ma'am," she said politely.
Chloe didn't even blink. With the calm of someone brushing lint off their blazer, she pulled a sleek black card from her crocodile handbag and tapped it gently against the machine. A soft beep echoed between them — smooth and final.
"No limit. That's the only kind of card I respect," Chloe said casually, sliding the card back into her purse.
The staff moved quickly, wrapping each purchase in branded packaging — black boxes with gold foil logos and velvet ribbons tied into crisp bows. Moments later, a tall man in a dark suit approached and offered to escort them to the curb.
"Let's head to your place," Chloe said as they stepped out onto the sun-warmed stone entryway of the boutique. Her oversized sunglasses slid smoothly over her eyes, every movement practiced and elegant.
But Nadia hesitated.
"Actually…" she paused, awkwardly brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "Let's go to your place instead."
Chloe halted, one manicured brow arching.
"Why?"
Nadia shifted uncomfortably, her eyes briefly dropping to the pavement. "My apartment's a mess. I've been too busy lately to clean."
Chloe narrowed her gaze, just enough to show suspicion but not annoyance. "I've seen your place after finals week. I've seen it after you hosted your birthday brunch with zero prep. Chaos is your comfort zone."
Nadia laughed nervously. "This is worse."
Chloe stared at her for another beat before slowly nodding. She didn't believe her, but she wasn't ready to press. Not yet.
Their chauffeur, sensing the moment had passed, moved quickly to pack the bags into the trunk. Then, he opened the car door.
They stepped inside together without another word.
The interior of the car was cool, wrapped in leather and faint hints of jasmine and vanilla from the boutique's signature scent that still clung to their clothes.
Chloe adjusted her hair in the side mirror, glancing sideways at Nadia.
"What are you hiding?" she asked, her tone light but probing. "You've been acting weird all week. You're dodging questions, barely texting, and you ignored my call last night."
"I was tired," Nadia said, looking out the window.
"That's not 'tired' energy. That's guilt energy."
Nadia sighed, then hesitated. "I just didn't want to stress you again. You've got enough going on — Carter Group, your brother, and the media."
"Don't do that," Chloe interrupted, her tone firmer. "Don't play the protective card. I'm not soft. If something's wrong, I want to know."
There was silence between them.
Nadia bit the inside of her cheek, debating whether to speak. But instead, she folded her arms across her chest and looked away.
Chloe exhaled, annoyed but resigned for now.
As the car glided onto Park Avenue, passing rows of manicured trees and designer flagships, Chloe's eyes suddenly sharpened. Behind the shield of her tinted sunglasses, her gaze locked on something — or rather, someone.
A black Rolls-Royce.
It was parked discreetly across from a building Chloe recognized — a discreet private banking office her family had used for years to manage offshore holdings. Not a place that typically attracted attention.
Something about the vehicle made her pause. Its presence felt... intentional.
"Pull over," Chloe said suddenly, voice low but commanding.
The chauffeur obeyed immediately, guiding the car toward the curb with practiced precision.