He ordered imported oysters, Wagyu towers, two bottles of 1982 Bordeaux, diamond-dust cocktails, and a private performance for Vanessa’s birthday. Then came the jewelry tray—because Aurum House had an in-house boutique for members who wanted to make ruinously expensive decisions without stepping outside.
Vanessa picked out a sapphire necklace priced at $640,000.
Daniel, drunk on revenge and borrowed status, handed over my matte-black business card.
The waiter returned three minutes later, his face pale and his posture rigid.
“Mr. Whitmore,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry… the payment failed.”
Daniel frowned. “Run it again.”
“We did.”
“Then use the backup card.”
The waiter swallowed. “Sir… all linked cards have been cancelled or restricted.”
Vanessa’s smile disappeared.
