Chapter 7 - THE RUMOR MILL IN THE DISTRICT
By Tuesday afternoon, the story of the woman who claimed to be the store manager’s wife had made its inevitable rounds through the luxury district chat groups and manager meetings.
David was in the regional operations meeting three blocks away when his phone buzzed against the mahogany conference table. He glanced down at the screen—a private message from the head of district security.
“FYI, David. Sterling & Vance just pulled their commercial lease application for the north wing. Looks like Arthur Sterling is stepping down as managing partner effective immediately. Word on the street is his wife’s public meltdown at your boutique was the straw that broke the camel's back with their board of investors.”
David didn't reply to the text. He simply locked his phone, slid it back into his pocket, and continued presenting the Q3 inventory projections to the regional vice president without missing a beat.
When he walked back into our boutique later that afternoon, he found me leaning against the counter reviewing the weekly sales report with Marcus.
“How was the meeting?” I asked, looking up as he loosened his silk tie just an inch.
“Quiet,” David said, stepping behind the counter and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Very quiet. Turns out Sterling & Vance has officially imploded. Arthur stepped down this morning.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow from behind his tablet. “Karma is a luxury brand, Mr. David. You can't buy it, but when it arrives, the delivery is always free.”
“And speaking of delivery,” I added, pulling a small black velvet box out from under the counter and sliding it across the marble toward David.
He looked down at it, his expression shifting from curiosity to surprise. “What’s this?”
“Open it,” I smiled.
David unlatched the velvet lid. Resting inside was a custom-engraved stainless steel pocket watch—a vintage piece we had quietly restored in the back workshop over the last three months, inscribed on the inner casing with our wedding date and a single, quiet phrase: My actual husband.
David stared at the engraving for a long moment, a slow, deep laugh rumbling in his chest. He looked up at me, his eyes bright with amusement and affection.
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“You remembered.”
“Of course I did,” I said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Every good manager needs to know who’s really running the store.”
