𝐃𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨

Chapter 1

𝐚𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤

I step out of the Rolls Royce, knee-high Valentino boots clanking against the pavement. The valet quickly makes his way toward me and I eagerly toss him my keys so I can head inside of Kennedy's.

And yes, to my parents' dismay, I drive myself everywhere. It's their fault, really– a couple of years back I found out my chauffeur wasn't the most discreet of the lot. He preferred being on my parents' payroll for double the amount I was paying him. I can't really blame him.

With each step I take, I get closer to the white columned building before me. It's nerve wracking being back after leaving the way I did. Some say I was running away and to an extent– I was.

But I don't let my memories plague me, instead a certain rose colored Birkin has taken over my mind as of late. There must be some other ethical way to get this bag, however bidding for it is just way more exciting.

I feel a handful of glances from people I've frequented before and another handful who I've never met. Though, this certain group of people don't stop staring as I make my way past them. I continue my pace, letting the heaviness of my boots hit the ground in a soothing rhythm.

My right shoulder lifts a little to allow my black Celine shoulder bag to readjust. That's when I turn around and wink at the group, annoyed at how they were still staring when the moment was well over. They look away in a frenzy and I can't help but smile to myself– imagining the daunting look on my face.

My thoughts are interrupted as I hear someone call my name from behind, making me snap my head in their direction. A warm smile abides my lips when I realize it's Neysa Sachdev– the mother of one of my best friends– Ijaya.

"We missed you," she smiles, taking my hands in hers. I like to believe she's the most sane parent out of all of ours combined and well...she probably is.

"I doubt it," I respond, looking at all the emerald jewelry she's wearing. Miss Neysa– not Mrs. Sachdev because she's not just her husband's wife– lightly shakes my hands.

"Don't do that. Your Mother told me about your hiccup with him, but don't worry," she pauses– looking into my dark brown eyes with her hazel ones, "the both of you will figure it out."

She didn't even say his name, yet the pit of my stomach churned at the mention of him. This whole summer I tried ignoring my reality, but it's time to come to terms with everything that happened. Even if it was my own doing.

I brace her hands once more before I let go to flatten out my black dress of its invisible wrinkles. "There's nothing to figure out," I pierce my gaze into hers, "it's over."

Miss Neysa looks at me full of curiosity, but then her eyes make their way down to my left wrist. I suppose she realizes I'm no longer wearing my diamond Graff bracelet after so many years of use because her curiosity turns into caution. He gifted it to me as a sort of promise, so it only made sense for me to take it off.