Page 275 of Money Reigns

Before I can get lost staring at it, Ella claps her hands together. “Alright, no time to waste. The man made an itinerary.”

***

A sleek black car is waiting out front. Inside—cold sparkling water, champagne bottles on ice, even a personal playlist War made me queued and ready.

I can’t help squealing, and Ella keeps smirking every time I do.

“What’s the full plan?”

Ella sips her champagne smug. “You’ll see”

The studio we pull up to is already humming when we arrive, mirrors lit like halos, the air perfumed with powder and hairspray, trays of brushes and palettes gleaming under soft light.

“Olivia!” Isabella sweeps over, all warm smile and long, graceful hands. She’s dressed in black from head to toe, sleek as always. “I was hoping today would finally be the day you landed in my chair again.”

I laugh, hugging her. “You make me sound overdue for service.”

“Darling, you are.” She snaps her fingers, and an assistant steps forward to guide Ella into the next chair. “This one will take care of your friend’s hair and makeup. And I’ve got someone on nails waiting for you too. Full pampering. Nothing less.”

I sink into the chair, already feeling my nerves settle.

“You know,”Isabella says as she clips back my hair, “I always knew you two would turn into more.”

I blink at her reflection in the mirror. “Oh yeah? Guess you’re good at predicting the future.”

She shakes her head with a smile. “Not at all. But I know Mr. Beaumont. He’s only ever hired me as a gift for coworkers or family friends, people he wants to impress. Never once for a girlfriend.”

My heart races. Heat pools low in my chest.

So that night, the first gala… I wasn’t just a date. Iwasdifferent.

I swallow, trying to play it off, but my cheeks are already pink.

Isabella’s fingers move deftly through my hair, curling and pinning with practiced ease. Loose waves, soft volume, pearl pins glinting against the light. Then her brushes sweep across my face—primer, powder, a whisper of rose along my lips until I look like the very best version of myself.

Across the room, Ella’s getting her eyeliner perfected, gossiping easily with the assistant. A nail tech files my nails into soft ovals, brushing pale blush polish over them until they shine.

It’s indulgent. Luxurious. The kind of day I never let myself dream about because dreaming hurt too much.

And now? It’sreal.

When Isabella finishes, she leans in with a conspiratorial grin and slips a black envelope into my hand.

“This is from him.”

My breath catches. I open it carefully, recognizing the sharp, deliberate strokes of War’s handwriting instantly.

Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover how amazing you look.

Today is yours; every stop, every detail.

First hint: something sweet.

Head to the place that always smelled like sugar on your skin.

Maybe I’ll be watching.

—W