Chapter 24 Who's Richer Now?
KARA’S POV
A few minutes later, just as the tension in my chest begins to settle and I convince myself that Finnian’s presence won’t ruin the night, the front door swings open.
And chaos follows.
“Okay, before anyone judges me... Ahmmm.. Yes, I’m late.”
Every head in the room turns. A man stands at the entrance, arms overloaded with shopping bags, gift boxes stacked dangerously high, one nearly slipping from his grasp. He looks one wrong step away from dropping everything.
For a second, the room is silent, then Sancha bursts out laughing.
“Aaron?” she gasps. “What the hell is that?”
Aaron grins sheepishly, adjusting the pile in his arms.
"Gifts. Tons of them. Please don’t let them fall. I worked very hard to not embarrass myself at the airport.”
People nearby chuckle, the attention immediately drawn to him. Aaron waves awkwardly at a few curious guests, his smile apologetic and boyish, as if he didn’t just steal the spotlight without trying.
“Guys, I’m really sorry I’m late,” he says, finally reaching us. “The plane landed just a few minutes ago. Good thing you’re all still here.”
Louisse steps forward, arms crossed, eyes narrowing, but there’s fondness there.
“Where have you been?”
“Netherlands,” he answers easily. “Quick trip, business, sightseeing, and accidentally getting lost, you know. The usual.”
I blink.
"You just got back… today?”
He nods. “Straight from the airport.”
Sancha whistles. “And you still came?”
“Of course,” Aaron says as if it’s obvious. “I wouldn’t miss this. Especially since I remembered you all and bought gifts.”
He pauses, then turns toward Louisse, his voice softening.
“Especially for Louisse,” he continues, smiling, “who’s carrying my goddaug—”
We all freeze.
“What?” I blurt out at the same time Sancha gasps. “You already knew?”
Aaron looks between us, confused.
“Yeah?”
Louisse’s eyes widen in panic.
“Aaron—”
“I mean, I was the one who brought Louisse to the hospital when she fainted,” he says innocently, still unaware of the bomb he’s dropping. “That’s when we found—”
Louisse lunges forward and slaps a hand over his mouth.
“Sit,” she hisses, half laughing and half mortified. “Now.”
Aaron’s eyes crinkle with amusement as he lets himself be pushed onto the couch.
“Okay, okay,” he muffles. “I’ll behave.”
We laugh as the tension melting away. He rests a hand gently over Louisse’s stomach as he talks, absentminded and protective all at once.
“So,” he says once Louisse finally lets him speak, “the Netherlands was amazing, tulips everywhere, windmills, and cheese that will ruin you for life.”
“Of course you’d talk about food,” Sancha mutters.
He chuckles and begins handing out gifts, one by one. Small things and thoughtful things. When he reaches me, he pulls out a neatly wrapped bag.
“This one’s for you, Kara.”
I open it carefully and it's a tulip sling bag. By then, my breath catches. It’s delicate and beautiful with a soft pastel tones added with a subtle elegance that feels very me.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “Aaron, this is—this is so cute.”
“I knew you’d like it,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I saw it and thought of you immediately.”
I don’t think, I just step forward and hug him tightly.
“Thank you,” I say, genuinely. “I love it.”
He stiffens for half a second, clearly startled, then laughs awkwardly.
“You’re welcome?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I feel it. That sharp shift in the air.
I glance sideways and saw Finnian.
He’s watching us, jaw tight and the smile gone, replaced by something darker. His eyes are locked on Aaron’s arms around me and his expression is unreadable but dangerous. The tattoos on his forearm flex as his grip on the glass tightens, my chest tightens too.
Without thinking, I step back from Aaron and straighten my posture, smoothing my top like I’ve been caught doing something wrong.
“Ah...By the way,” I say quickly, forcing brightness into my voice, “Thank you! I really love the color and the style.”
Aaron’s ears turn red.
“Uh... yeah,” he says, suddenly shy.
Sancha and Louisse exchange knowing looks before bursting into laughter.
“Oh, he’s blushing,” Sancha teases.
"Please stop.” Aaron groans.
I laugh with them, but my eyes flick back toward Finnian. He’s still watching and somehow, I know this night just found its first crack.
By Monday, my body feels like it never truly rested. The weekend joy fades the moment my alarm rings, replaced by the familiar weight settling on my shoulders. Still, there’s a small comfort I cling to as I get dressed and drive to work.
At least I have nothing to report to Mr. Stewheinz today. That thought alone feels like mercy.
I decide to stay in the office the whole day, bury myself in plans, revisions, and calculations. If I keep my head down long enough, maybe the universe will forget I exist.
It doesn’t and my phone rings just after lunch. An unknown extension that I already know.
“Engineering Department,” I answer, professional and calm.
“Good afternoon, Engr. Viancé,” a woman’s voice says smoothly. “This is Mr. Stewheinz’s office. He’s requesting your presence.”
Requesting, of course.
I close my eyes briefly and exhale through my nose.
“May I ask what this is regarding?”
“Please come as soon as possible,” she replies, not answering my question. “Thank you.”
The call ends.
I pout like a child as I grab my keys, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter while heading to the elevator. “I didn’t even have a report today.”
The drive to his building feels longer than usual. Traffic crawls, my patience thins, and by the time I step into the familiar, intimidating lobby, my mood is already sour. When I finally enter his office floor, something feels off. The secretary gestures me in without a word and as soon as I step inside, my feet stop moving.
What greets me is not Finnian.
It’s bags. Paper bags, shopping bags, and designer bags with different colors and different sizes. Some are glossy and some are matte. Some are with logos I recognize instantly and others I’ve only seen in magazines. They’re stacked neatly on the couch, on the table, and even beside his desk.
And standing beside them is a woman, I think in her mid-forties. She's elegant, with sharp eyes, and dressed in black like she owns every room she walks into. She turns to me and, without saying a single word, she hands me several bags.
I blink. “Uh… excuse me?”
She doesn’t respond, but instead she just simply gives a polite nod, turns on her heel, and walks out closing the door behind her. I stand there frozen, arms full of bags, and heart pounding in confusion.
Slowly, the swivel chair behind the desk turns. Finnian faces me. His expression is fierce, dark eyes are sharp, and jaw clenched like he’s been waiting. The room suddenly feels smaller and heavier.
“Aaron gave you a bag,” he says coolly, voice cutting through the silence. “That thing didn’t even reach the price of one of those surrounding you now.”
My brows knit together. “What…?”
“Unwrap them all,” he continues, unfazed. “And take everything home.”
For a second, I honestly think I misheard him.
“…What?” I finally ask, my voice flat with disbelief.
Finnian stands. The sound of his chair scraping softly against the floor sends a chill down my spine. He walks toward me slowly, deliberately, and every step is calculated. My feet refuse to move and my hands tighten around the bags.
He stops just an arm’s length away.
“I want to show you something,” he says quietly and dangerously. “I want you to understand how rich I am.”
My heart slams violently against my ribs.
“And how far above that Aaron guy I stand,” he adds, eyes never leaving mine.
"Mr. Stewheinz, what is this supposed to—” My throat goes dry.
“I can buy every luxurious bag in the world,” he interrupts, voice is low and sharp. “If he gives you one piece of it.”
The words hit like a slap. Anger, shock, and something twisted coil inside my chest.
“This isn’t funny,” I say, finally finding my voice. “This is... this is inappropriate.”
He holds my gaze for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he turns away, just like that. He walks back to his desk, sits down, and faces his screen as if nothing happened.
“Dismissed, Engr. Viancé,” he says calmly. “Take the bags.”
I remain standing there, frozen, arms heavy, heart racing, and mind spinning.
What just happened?
I look at the bags again, at the absurdity of it all, and at the man who thinks wealth is a weapon and jealousy is a language I should understand.
My fingers curl tighter around the handles.
“This is not a game,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
But as I walk out of that office carrying things I never asked for, one truth settles painfully clear in my chest. Finnian Matthew Stewheinz isn’t just messing with me anymore, he’s declaring something, and I’m standing right in the middle of it.