Badass in Disguise
<b>Chapter </b><b>153 </b>
I was staring at the screenshot when a message from Ethan Haxton appeared on my screen.
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Dr. Morgan, I’d like to <i>invite </i>you to dinner <i>this </i><i>weekend</i><i>. When </i><i>do </i><i>you </i><i>think </i><i>you </i><i>might </i><i>be </i><i>avable</i>? <i>My </i><i>family </i>has <i>been </i>wanting to thank <i>their </i>savior <i>properly</i><i>. </i>
I couldn’t help but smile at his formal tone. Dr. Morgan. The name felt strange I’d performed surgery exactly once in this lifetime, yet here was Ethan Haxton treating me like I had decades of medical experience.
My response was predictably polite but evasive, mentioning my busy schedule.
Ethan replied quickly: <i>I </i><i>understand </i><ipletely</i>. <i>If </i><i>you </i><i>prefer</i><i>, </i><i>we </i><i>could </i><i>arrange </i><i>something </i><i>smaller </i><i>– </i><i>just </i>my <i>parents</i>. <i>I </i><i>get </i><i>the </i><i>impression </i><i>you </i><i>don’t </i><i>enjoy </i><i>crowds</i>.
I had answered with a simple “I’ll see,” to which Ethan had responded with gratitude.
Hisst message made me pause: <i>The </i><i>weather’s </i><i>turning </i><i>colder</i>. <i>Remember </i>to <i>dress </i><i>warmly</i>.
I closed my phone, oddly affected by such a mundane concern. When was thest time anyone had reminded me to
dress for the weather?
Two days before Philip Thornton’s birthday celebration, I found myself standing outside a jewelry store in the upscale part of downtown. Crystal Vault looked remarkably unassuming from the outside a modest storefront with frosted windows that revealed nothing of whaty beyond the heavy wooden door.
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Inside was a different story. The space opened into a sanctuary of wealth and taste – antique rosewood disy cases lined the walls, illuminated by handcrafted ss fixtures designed by some Italian master whose name I’d forgotten. A tea service worth more than most cars sat casually on a side table.
“Miss Morgan!” The elderly store manager practically glided across the polished floor toward me, his face lighting up with genuine pleasure. “What an honor. The owner specifically instructed us to take excellent care of you should you
visit.‘
I nodded slightly. “How is he these days?”
“Very well, miss. Would you care to go upstairs for some tea? I could prepare-”
“No need,” I cut him off. I’m just here to pick up something. Then I’ll be on my way.”
The manager nodded quickly. “Of course, I’ll retrieve it immediately.”
While waiting, I wandered toward a disy case housing a particrly striking crystal. A Brazilian Paraiba tourmaline, if I wasn’t mistaken. The vibrant turquoise–blue stone had minimal inclusions, set in a simple tinum
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setting that emphasized its natural beauty rather than overwhelming it.
The bell above the door chimed, and I nced up to see Aurelia Sullivan striding in like she owned the ce. Her designer boots clicked aggressively against the marble floor as she made her way to the counter, barely acknowledging the staff who greeted her.
Her gazended on me, then shifted to the tourmaline I’d been examining. Something calcting shed in her
eyes.
“I want that one,” she announced, pointing at the tourmaline. The sales associate looked flustered, ncing between <ol><li>us. </li></ol>
“I apologize, Ms. Sullivan, but this customer was-”
“She’s looking?” Aurelia scoffed, giving me a dismissive once–over. “Look at her. Does she look like someone who can
afford it?”
I said nothing, allowing my face to remain expressionless while she continued.
“I’ll take it. Now.”
The door chimed again, and an older woman who shared Aurelia’s features hurried in. “Aurelia, don’t just run off like that. I was-” She stopped, noticing the tension. “I’m sorry, is everything alright?”
“Your daughter wants the tourmaline crystal I was looking at,” I said calmly.
The woman smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. She’s been in a difficult moodtely. Aurelia, we can look at other pieces.”
“No, Mother.” Aurelia’s voice hardened. “I want this one specifically.”
I raised an eyebrow. “It’s two hundred and eighty thousand dors.”
Aurelia’s lips curled into a smug smile. “I’ll pay three hundred and thirty thousand.”
I recognized the vindictiveness in her eyes. This was about the auction where I’d forced her to overpay for the
Cartier brooch.
“Price goes to the highest bidder,” I agreed, stepping back from the disy. “You win.”
Her expression faltered, clearly expecting more resistance. “That’s it? You’re just giving up?”
‘It’s yours. Congrattions.”
Aurelia narrowed her eyes. “Are you some kind of dealer? Looking to flip gems for profit?”
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I smiled thinly. “If I can’t afford it, as you suggested, how could I be a dealer?”
“Then why were you even looking at it?” Her voice rose.
“Aurelia,” her mother warned.
“No, Mother. I want to know what game she’s ying.”
“The only game here is the one you started,” I replied. “You want the stone. You bid higher. It’s yours. Unless you can’t actually afford it and you’re trying to save face?”
Aurelia’s face flushed with anger. “I could buy this entire store if I wanted.”
The manager returned then, carrying a small velvet box. “Miss Morgan, your item is ready.”
He opened the box, revealing a spectacr amethyst crystal that made the tourmaline Aurelia coveted look like costume jewelry. The craftsmanship was impable, the deep purple stone catching light in ways that suggested exceptional rity and cut.
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“The redesign has beenpleted to your specifications,” he exined. “We also created these matching earrings from the smaller crystals, as you requested. Extremely rare Uruguayan amethyst of this purity is virtually impossible
to find.”
Aurelia’s eyes widened. “I want that amethyst instead. How much is it?”
The manager looked ufortable. “I’m sorry, Ms. Sullivan. This is Miss Morgan’s personal property. It’s not for
sale.”
“Everything has a price,” Aurelia insisted.
I took the box, examining the amethyst with satisfaction. “Not this.” I snapped the case shut. “Thank you for keeping it safe.”
As I headed for the door, Aurelia called after me. “You can’t just–who do you think you are?”
I paused, turning slightly. “They won’t sell it because they don’t have that right. The crystal was mine to begin with.” I nced around the store. “So was this ce.”
Aurelia’s jaw dropped.
I addressed the manager without looking back. “Let her buy the tourmaline she bid on. Then add her to the
cklist.”
“You can’t do that!” Aurelia sputtered, “Who do you think you are? What gives you the right?”
The manager’s voice was steady, “She does have that right, Ms. Sullivan.”
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“This is ridiculous! My family has connections! Do you want to stay in business?”
I was already at the door when I heard Aurelia’s mother whisper urgently, “Aurelia, stop. Do you know who owns. Crystal Vault? Their influence… we shouldn’t make enemies here.”
The door closed behind me, cutting off Aurelia’s indignant response. I slipped the velvet box into my bag and headed toward campus, a small smile ying on my lips.
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