The concert was held at thergest theater in Greenvale, and, just as expected, Hawthorne had reserved a private box. Inside, there were all kinds of snacks, fruit tters, tea, wine-everything one could want, with a dedicated attendant on standby.


    Gwh couldn''t help but marvel again at the power of money. It reminded her of her own family; ever since she was born, there were hardly any people she could interact with normally. Even among the other socialites and trust fund kids, it was the same.


    That was why she''d chosen to go abroad. Out there, surrounded by wealth, everyone was on equal footing-eating the same nd cafeteria food, sneaking instant noodles into the dorms behind the RAs'' backs, posting on Instagramte at night.


    Overseas, international students all acted like they''d been starving for days. Back then, if anyone shared anything, it''d be a homemade meal-nobody cared to show off champagne, designer handbags, or luxury cars, because none of that couldpete with a te of home-cooked tomato scrambled eggs.


    "What do you want to eat? I can have something brought up."


    As if pulling a rabbit out of a hat, Hawthorne produced an elegant menu. Gwh had mistaken it for a magazine at first. Honestly, ever since she''d left the old- money scene back home, so many details had grown hazy.


    In Starfall City, nothing was too outrageous, so this was hardly surprising.


    "Whatever''s fine," she said, but her eyes couldn''t help drifting toward the seafood selections and Greenvale''s famous barbecue.


    Though, would eating something like that here be too much? The smell alone might be a problem.


    Hawthorne seemed to read her mind. He instructed his assistant to bring up a tter of grilled meats and a seafood sampler, choosing lighter seasonings to avoid anything overwhelmingly spicy.


    Gwh had never been good with spicy food; she preferred milder vors.


    Before long, someone arrived with the barbecue, along with several dishes Gwh liked. She couldn''t resist ncing toward the main stage.


    The musicians and the conductor were starting to file in. Here she was, eating barbecue during such a refined event-wasn''t that a little uncivilized?


    She looked over at Hawthorne, who, unfazed, was busy cing skewers onto the small grill.


    "What''s wrong?"


    Noticing her silence, Hawthorne nced at her, cool and unbothered. Gwh felt her face flush, a little embarrassed.


    "Are we really going to eat barbecue here? Isn''t that kind of... inappropriate?"


    God, if word got out that she''d eaten barbecue at a concert, it''d soundpletely absurd.


    "Does it bother you?"


    That wasn''t quite it. She was more worried other people might take issue.


    "Rx. No one can see us. Besides, I spent three hundred thousand dors on this box-nobody''s going to say a word if we decide to stay here all night."


    Three... three hundred thousand?


    Alright, Gwh had to admit, that was impressive. Even though that amount wasn''t exactly a fortune by Langford family standards, it still made her wince.


    “That''s really unnecessary, isn''t it? We could have picked seats with a great view


    -no need to splurge on a private box."


    But the suite was perfect-over twenty square meters, directly facing the stage, with a massive screen to disy every detail. The music seemed to surround her and the aroma from the beef skewer Hawthorne handed her nearly made her forget where she was?


    "Don''t worry. No one in the audience or on stage can see us. Let''s just enjoy ourselves."


    He was so focused on grilling for Gwh that, when he finally brought out a roast leg ofmb, she couldn''t help butugh.


    "Maybe let''s skip that one," she said.


    They spoke in unison, both conceding that the smell was a bit much.


    "Yeah, let''s try something else."


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    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!