“Yes.”
“You told me their numbers looked weak.”
“They are.”
I studied my reflection.
“Don’t approve anything tonight. No commitment, no letter of intent.”
He paused.
“Why?”
“Because I just discovered who Arthur Wells really is.”
I put away my phone, touched up my lipstick, and walked into the dining room smiling.
Arthur immediately stood.
“There she is.”
His mother studied my modest black dress from top to bottom.
“Oh,” she said. “Very… simple.”
I smiled.
“Thank you.”
Arthur kissed my cheek.
He had no idea what I had overheard.
For the next two hours, I let him keep believing that.
Part 2
Dinner was almost impressive in its cruelty.
Arthur’s mother, Evelyn, asked where my parents lived.
“Kansas,” I said.
“Small town?”
“Yes.”
She nodded sympathetically, as though poverty were an illness.
Arthur’s father, Charles, asked, “And your consulting work—does it pay reliably?”
“Enough.”
Arthur smiled.
“She doesn’t care about money.”
“No,” I said. “I care about character.”
Something flickered in his eyes for half a second.
Then he laughed.
“So serious.”
His sister, Madison, spent twenty minutes discussing her new apartment before noticing my handbag.
“That brand is cute,” she said. “Is it vintage?”
“It’s old.”
I didn’t mention that it had been custom-made in Milan.
During dessert, Charles turned the conversation to business.
“Our family company is expanding aggressively,” he announced.
Arthur leaned back proudly.
“We’re closing a major financing deal soon.”
I slowly raised my wineglass.
“With whom?”
Arthur grinned.
“Northbridge Capital Partners.”
I almost laughed from disbelief.
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