Chapter 5

It was Mason Reed, Drake's friend—the same one who'd expressed sympathy for Thalia at the party. Having known him for nearly three years, Thalia considered him one of the more decent people in Drake's circle.

"Just picking up some things," she replied.

Mason glanced at the shopping bag. "A gift for Drake?"

Finding it easier than explaining, Thalia nodded.

"That watch… even their basic models are fifteen thousand dollars. You don't need to spend that kind of money on him. Drake is—"

He's not worth it, Mason thought. Drake had admitted he couldn't get over Sienna; Thalia was merely a replacement. Last night, he'd humiliated her by leaving the party with Sienna, right in front of everyone. What Thalia didn't know, but Mason did, was that Drake and Sienna had spent the night at the Four Seasons. Their social circle had a private WhatsApp group Thalia had never been invited to join, yet Sienna was added the moment she returned to New York. That afternoon, Sienna had "accidentally" posted a photo of them in bed, deleting it within a minute, but Mason had seen it. He'd wanted to say something but held back. Best to stay out of that drama.

Mason almost told Thalia the truth but changed his mind. "Look, Drake doesn't need expensive gifts. You shouldn't spend several months' salary on him." After all, Drake was his college friend. Fifteen years of friendship meant something. He wanted to add that Drake probably wouldn't appreciate a gift costing Thalia months of her salary, but that felt too harsh.

Thalia knew perfectly well Drake didn't deserve it—the watch wasn't for him anyway. She smiled politely. "You're right. Won't happen again."

After some small talk, they parted ways. Watching her leave, Mason sighed. "Damn, what a waste. Girl's way too good for him." He opened WhatsApp, messaging Drake:

[Yo, you’re sleeping on a good one. Just saw her buying you some fancy-ass watch. Must’ve dropped like 15K on it. That’s months of her salary, man. Don’t mess this up.]

Drake read the message during dinner with Sienna. His earlier anger dissipated instantly. So Thalia felt guilty and was buying him a peace offering. Fine, he could play nice. He'd accept the gift, apologize for being harsh, tell her not to take it personally, throw in some sweet talk—Thalia always fell for that.

"Drake? Who's texting?" Sienna asked.

"Nobody important," he replied smoothly. Sienna didn't push it.

When Drake went to the restroom, Sienna grabbed his phone. She'd seen his passcode—his birthday, how basic. She quickly checked his chat with Thalia. Their last exchange was from a week ago: Thalia asking about a fall break trip, sending links to places she wanted to visit. Drake had replied five hours later: "Everything's packed during holidays. What's the point?" Thalia hadn't messaged since.

Sienna smirked at the suggested destinations. Their three-year relationship couldn't be that serious if Drake wouldn't even vacation with her. Finding nothing interesting in Thalia's chat, she found Mason's message.

Sienna scoffed, remembering Thalia's apparent indifference earlier. She'd thought Thalia was finally backing off, but here she was buying gifts, trying to make things right. She closed WhatsApp, locked the phone, and placed it back. Then she called Caroline Ashcroft.

"Caroline? You won't believe what happened. Drake and I were at Chaumet, and his girlfriend was there trying on rings, practically begging for marriage…"

Back at the penthouse, Thalia packed, placing Asher's gift in her suitcase. Her mind drifted to his striking features. She'd known Asher since childhood. Their family estates were in the same exclusive Kensington neighborhood, barely a quarter-mile apart. They'd often crossed paths growing up.

Asher was four years her senior. She first met him at Blackwood Manor when she was ten, at a dinner party. While she was an awkward child, Asher already looked like he'd stepped out of a British period drama. She remembered being stunned by his appearance—aristocratic features, but eyes cold as a winter morning. When her mother prompted her to greet him, she'd politely said, "Hello, Asher." He'd responded with a cool, detached "Hello," making her think he must be difficult. That misconception lasted years.

When she was sixteen, struggling with advanced mathematics, Lady Blackwood suggested to her father, "Asher could help Thalia with her maths. He earned top marks at Eton, nearly perfect scores!" By then, Thalia's mother had passed away, and Thalia had become a withdrawn, rebellious teenager. "I don't need your help," she'd told Asher when he arrived.

At twenty-one, Asher cut an impressive figure—well over six feet, wearing a simple white shirt and grey jeans, his carefully styled hair softening his severe features. "Too bad. You're getting it anyway," he'd replied, his voice carrying an unexpected warmth. She'd expected him to be stern and demanding. Instead, after reviewing her practice exams, he'd simply raised an eyebrow and patiently explained concepts. His deep voice made even calculus sound interesting, and he never showed frustration. For problems with multiple approaches, he'd explain each method thoroughly. Thalia's initial resistance turned to admiration.

"How do you remember all this? It's been years since you took these courses."

"I reviewed the textbooks before coming," he admitted, then gently tapped her head with his pen. "And it's 'Asher' to you, remember?"

That summer before her A-levels, Asher spent two months tutoring her. He was at Cambridge but dedicated his entire break to helping her—explaining concepts, checking her work, marking practice papers. Even after her term started, she'd find him waiting in her family's sitting room, ready to help. Thanks to Asher, her mathematics improved dramatically, from failing grades to near-perfect scores. She'd always excelled in other subjects, and with mathematics no longer holding her back, she earned a place at Cambridge herself, following in Asher's footsteps.

Back then, Thalia saw Asher as the perfect older brother figure. She respected him, admired him, but never thought of him romantically. So when her father proposed the arranged marriage with Asher, she'd balked. How could she marry someone she saw as a brother?

Her reminiscing was interrupted by Drake entering the bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe, looking down at her. "All packed?"

"Almost."

"Thalia… isn't there something you want to tell me?"