"Here you go," Catherine watched as May handed the boutique gift card to the cashier. The young woman behind the counter took it with a polite nod and began scanning the remaining items. One by one, the pieces they'd picked out were folded, wrapped, and placed into branded shopping bags.
"Next time that Matthew Lindberg walks in here" Elisa uttered as she stood beside them, her arms crossed tightly. "You should block him at the door," she said to the second saleslady, who'd returned after guiding Matthew to the fitting rooms earlier.
To her surprise, the saleslady didn't reply, she just kept arranging the receipt.
"Hey! Are you listening to me!?" Elisa hissed.
Meanwhile, Catherine's eyes drifted toward the boutique's entrance where Matthew had exited minutes earlier, his back straight, face unreadable as he walked out with one of his assistants carrying a pair of branded bags. He hadn't looked back once. Just walked out like he owned the place.
Technically, he didn't. Not officially. Everyone knew he was just Lenox's cousin. That didn't stop him from acting like the boutique belonged to him. He spent money like it didn't matter. That part hadn't changed.
"He's ridiculous," Elisa said again, still watching the door. "Honestly. Pretending to be some VIP when everyone knows it's Lenox that actually matters."
"That wasn't Mr. Lenox Lindberg," the manager replied.
"What?" Elisa turned.
The manager offered a small smile. "Mr. Matthew Lindberg is a VIP client of this establishment."
Elisa frowned. "No, you mean Lenox Lindberg. That's the name on the membership. Matthew's just tagging along. He must have lied or showed some fake ID."
"I didn't make a mistake," the manager said calmly. "Mr. Matthew Lindberg is a registered VIP. Personally verified by the company. Mr. Lenox Lindberg on the other hand is only a supplementary member, we do keep tracks of our VIP."
Catherine's brows twitched. She glanced toward the counter again.
The cashier held up the card. "I'm sorry… but it seems this card isn't working."
May leaned in. "Try again. It's supposed to have five thousand."
"We've only scanned around four thousand dollars' worth," the cashier explained. "There should be more than enough." She inserted the card again and waited.
Everyone watched the screen.
Card authorization failed. Refer to issuer.
Elisa tilted her head. "Wait, what? That's not right."
The cashier tried again. Same result. She turned the screen so they could see it.
May blinked. "That doesn't make sense. This card was brand new. It worked earlier."
Catherine stood still, her eyes on the card. A faint prickling settled on her chest.
"Swipe it one more time. Maybe the machine glitched," Elisa leaned over.
The cashier gave a small nod and did as instructed. The same message blinked on the screen.
Card authorization failed. Refer to issuer.
Now other customers nearby were starting to notice.
"That's weird," May muttered, voice lower now. "You just used it earlier. We bought that dress."
"Maybe there's a limit per day?" Elisa offered her tone more cautious now.
The manager stepped forward, giving the screen a quick glance before shifting her gaze toward Catherine and the others.
"This type of card doesn't have a daily limit," she said. "It's a boutique membership card. It functions more like a preloaded account. Once the balance is loaded, it can be used in full anytime."
May looked confused. "Then why won't it work?"
"There are only two possibilities," the manager said. "One, the card was emptied earlier, and the funds are gone—which doesn't seem to be the case based on your total. Or two—"
She paused, then finished. "Whoever holds the main account canceled or deactivated it."
Catherine stared at the card, still resting on the counter. Her fingers twitched at her side.
"What?" May turned to her. "Call Lenox."
Catherine didn't move.
"He's the one who gave you the card, right?" Elisa said, shifting her weight. "Then what is this? Why would he cancel it?"
"Maybe he didn't," May said. "Maybe it's a mistake. Just call him and ask."
Meanwhile, Matthew had his eyes closed as the car was moving towards his destination. His encounter with Catherine earlier was nothing but fleeting, but what he did after really made his day. He actually forgot about that card—it was something that he asked Lenox to give to Catherine. Naturally, Catherine and the rest believed that it was Lenox who gave her the card.
Just now, Matthew canceled the card. Just the thought of it made him smile. He couldn't help but wonder who those three would pay for the things that they bought.
"Young Master, we're here…" Ottep's voice interrupted his stupor.
"Good," Matthew smiled.
Matthew checked his watch. Thirty minutes before the event started. Perfect timing.
He reached for the car door handle, but his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Lenox.
He sighed, then answered. "What is it?"
"Did you cancel the gift card for Atrium Shopping Square?" Lenox asked.
Matthew leaned back slightly, already expecting the call. "Yes. I did."
There was a pause.
"You gave her that card. Why would you cancel it?" Lenox asked.
Matthew's lips curled slightly. "Catherine said she didn't want gifts. I'm just respecting her wishes. Why would I insult her by forcing a gift she clearly doesn't want?"
"Stop being petty!" Lenox's voice rose. "You know what you're doing. You're pushing her away!"
"I don't care," Matthew said. Then he ended the call without another word.
He tapped the screen and turned on Do Not Disturb. Then he gave Ottep some instructions to stay in the car and simply wait for him.
He then slid the phone back into his jacket pocket and glanced at the rearview mirror. His expression didn't change.
"If he wants recognition so much," Matthew mumbled. "Then he should use his own money to do it."
Then he opened the car door and stepped out.
Matthew eyed the large building before him. Sterling House.
On the outside, many thought this was nothing but a bank. Not many knew that this was just an entrance to the black market. He fixed his suit and then walked into the building where he used a secret elevator that would lead him to the black market.
"These people really know what they're doing," he muttered as he watched the elevator numbers count down. To keep everything confidential, each invitation came with a different building address and a unique elevator code. The code only worked if it matched the guest's fingerprint.
Not that it was surprising. These events were extremely secretive.
Matthew glanced at the panel. He had only been a member for a few days, yet he already received an invitation.
In his previous life, he remembered how rare that was. Some members waited weeks, even months, before getting one. The organizers never explained their methods. They were careful, selective, and always had some hidden reason behind every gathering.
Sadly, Matthew knew that this wasn't just luck. Those people must have already found out his real background and wanted to test him. Yes. This was because they knew he was a Lindberg. They did the same thing to Lenox when they thought he was the legitimate heir of the Lindberg Family. And they are going to do the same to him now.
While thinking about this, he quickly took his mask.The organizers themselves had personalized it for him. It covered his entire face, and the moment he put it on, it shifted and adjusted, sealing perfectly to conceal even the smallest part of his features. Nanomites, he thought.
"What an expensive mask," he smiled as he walked out of the elevator.
Matthew stepped out of the elevator into a clean, high-ceilinged hall. The walls were plain, light gray with dark trim. The lighting was soft and indirect, casting minimal shadows. It wasn't flashy, but nothing looked cheap.
At the far end, a man stood in front of a large brown and gold double door. He was in a simple black uniform. As Matthew approached, the man held out a slim black tablet.
Matthew immediately took it without a word, scanned his palm, and entered the access code again. The tablet beeped once.
The man checked the screen, nodded, and stepped aside to pull the door open.
Inside, the event had already begun.
Matthew took a few steps in and glanced around. The space was wider than it looked from the outside. Circular seating surrounded the room, made up of curved booths, each with a low table. Most were occupied. Men and women in business suits filled the area, talking, drinking wine, and occasionally glancing toward the center.
The stage in the middle was also circular. Elevated just slightly, it remained empty for now. A dark cloth covered the platform, and a few staff stood along the perimeter, keeping to themselves.
"Sir, please follow me to your designated seat," a man in an all-white mask said.
Matthew gave a short nod. Unlike the guests, the staff wore standard white masks, which made them easy to identify. As he followed the man along the edge of the room, Matthew glanced at the booths.
"Huh? Isn't this…" a voice cut in before he could take his seat. He turned toward the booth beside him, where a man was watching him with interest. "A new blood?" the man said, amusement evident in his tone.