The Chairman laughed.
“You’re really wearing that through Beverly Hills?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“My mother hates it.”
He smiled.
“Then she’ll love the necklace.”
“That is the strategy.”
The Billionaire Woman left forty minutes later.
No grand exit.
No photographers.
No entourage.
The young associate stood near the entrance.
The Boutique Manager was nowhere visible.
The associate stepped forward.
“Ma’am.”
The Billionaire Woman stopped.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I didn’t do enough.”
The Billionaire Woman looked at her.
Young.
Maybe twenty-six.
Nervous.
She recognized the kind of guilt that came after someone finally saw the difference between staying safe and staying silent.
“You tried to tell her to verify.”
“Yes.”
“You were afraid.”
The associate nodded.
The Billionaire Woman did not tell her fear excused everything.
It did not.
But neither did she demand heroism from someone with less power than everyone else involved.
“Next time.”
The employee looked up.
“Next time?”
“You will know what silence feels like afterward.”
The young woman swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Use that.”
The Billionaire Woman left.
Outside, Beverly Hills sunlight reflected off expensive cars.
Her driver waited half a block away because she had asked him not to park at the entrance.
She walked.
A few people stared at the hat.
Good.
She entered the car.
The driver glanced back.
“Successful?”
The Billionaire Woman leaned into the leather seat.
“Yes.”
“Found the necklace?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother will like it?”
“No.”
The driver stared.
She smiled.
“She’ll complain it costs too much.”
“Then cry.”
“Then tell everyone I’m irresponsible.”
The driver laughed.
“Sounds successful.”
She looked through the window.
The boutique disappeared behind traffic.
Her phone vibrated.
Her assistant.
She answered.
“How bad?”
The Billionaire Woman frowned.
“How do you know?”
“The Chairman called legal.”
“Of course.”
Her assistant continued:
“Do you want the background file on the manager?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Not yet.”
“You always want the file.”
“This isn’t my company.”
“Fair.”
The Billionaire Woman looked down at her bracelet.
Then:
“Find out whether my mother has any public commitments on her birthday.”
“That I can do.”
“And verify museum insurance requirements for the collar.”
Silence.
Her assistant whispered:
“You bought it.”
“Yes.”
“You actually bought it.”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
The Billionaire Woman smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
“Your mother is going to kill you.”
“Probably.”
That was the first problem that morning that made her genuinely nervous.
The jewelry house investigation began the same afternoon.
The Billionaire Woman knew none of the details initially.
She preferred it that way.
The Boutique Manager was placed on paid leave pending review.