Her polite smile disappeared for the briefest moment.
Something more calculating replaced it.
Her manicured fingers traced the gold lettering as she read.
First class.
Private yacht.
Luxury hotel.
Her eyes widened.
“Dubai?” she gasped, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest. “That is literally my dream. All my favorite lifestyle influencers go there. The shopping is supposed to be incredible.”
She pulled out a chair and sat beside Dad.
“Mason, wow. You must make so much money to afford something like this. What exactly is your salary? Are you paying for Carter too?”
“It’s a family gift,” I said neutrally.
I deliberately ignored the question about my income.
For the rest of the evening, Isabella dominated the conversation.
She wanted to know about the hotel spa.
She asked whether the private chef on the desert excursion could accommodate a strict raw-vegan menu.
What bothered me most was that she never said, “That sounds wonderful for you guys.”
Instead, she kept saying we.
“We definitely need to go to the Dubai Mall.”
“We should book a professional desert photo shoot.”
“We need to make reservations at the best restaurants.”
I caught Dad looking at her with an amused smile.
Mom nodded politely.
A cold knot began forming in my stomach.
Two weeks later, I was grabbing a quick espresso downtown when I unexpectedly ran into Julian, an old friend from college.
By coincidence, Julian was also Isabella’s ex-boyfriend.
We sat at a small corner table to catch up.
When I casually mentioned that Carter was dating Isabella, Julian nearly coughed his latte across the table.
“Isabella? Isabella who used to work at the contemporary art gallery?”
“Yeah. That Isabella.”
His expression changed immediately.
“Mason, you need to warn your brother.”
I leaned closer.
“About what?”
Julian lowered his voice.
“She is intensely focused on money and status. When we broke up last year, things became extremely complicated. She tried to claim she was entitled to part of my savings because we had lived together, even though there was no legal basis for it. She threatened to bring attorneys into everything and kept pushing for money before she finally moved on.”
He shook his head.
“I’m serious. Be careful.”
Exactly two months before our scheduled departure, Carter called what he described as an urgent family meeting at my parents’ house.
He stood in the middle of the living room holding Isabella’s hand.
“We’re engaged.”
Isabella squealed and immediately stretched out her left hand so everyone could see the ring.
A massive diamond glittered on her finger.
Even with my limited knowledge of jewelry, it looked expensive.
Very expensive.
Carter was currently earning an hourly wage at a mall cell-phone kiosk.
There was no realistic way he had purchased that ring without help.
I congratulated them and forced a polite smile.
Then, as I leaned toward Mom, something caught my attention.
Her neck was bare.
For as long as I could remember, Mom had worn the same vintage gold necklace almost every day. It had belonged to her grandmother and was probably the most sentimental piece of jewelry she owned.
I pulled her aside while Carter and Isabella took pictures.
“Mom, where’s your necklace?”
She immediately looked away.
Her cheeks reddened.
“Oh, it’s just at the jeweler,” she said. “They’re cleaning it.”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes.
And I knew.
The necklace wasn’t being cleaned.
She had pawned it.
She had pawned her grandmother’s irreplaceable heirloom to help Carter buy an enormous engagement ring for a woman he had known only a few months.
Later that afternoon, extended family arrived for a backyard barbecue.
My uncle Gabriel was there.
Gabriel was Dad’s younger brother and the kind of man who treated family gossip as a competitive sport.
I was standing near the grill flipping burgers when he wandered over with a beer.
“So, Mason,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder, “I hear business downtown is booming for you. Robert told me you got one heck of a corporate bonus this year. Said it was enough to pay for some luxury Middle Eastern vacation for the entire family.”
My spatula stopped in midair.
“Dad told you about my bonus?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Gabriel laughed.
“He was bragging about you at the country club last week. Said his youngest son makes more than some of the doctors in the neighborhood.”
Then he added something that made me stop smiling.
“Isabella was there too. She said Carter was lucky to have a brother with deep pockets and a big future inheritance.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
So Isabella knew.
She knew I made serious money.
She knew my parents would sacrifice almost anything for Carter.
And she understood exactly how valuable the Dubai trip was.
Gabriel, without realizing it, had just told me that Isabella knew far more about my finances than I had ever intended her to know.
The barbecue eventually moved indoors for dinner, and somehow dinner became a negotiation over my Dubai trip.
We were eight weeks from departure.
I had my laptop open at the edge of the dining table, confirming passport numbers and expiration dates with Mom.
Isabella sat across from me scrolling through her phone.
Then she raised her voice so the entire table could hear.
“So, Mason, I was reviewing the itinerary you printed.”
I stopped typing.
She continued.
“I noticed the hotel setup doesn’t give Carter and me our own private suite. Now that we’re officially engaged, we really need some romantic space. Can you upgrade us to the Royal Suite? I saw pictures online. It’s gorgeous.”