Sugar sugar baby

[52] A casual dinner

The private chef had outdone himself. We were sitting at Vanessa's long dining table, surrounded by pristine white walls and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Beverly Hills skyline. The soft hum of the city in the distance provided a calming backdrop, and the table was set with fine china and silverware that probably cost more than my car.

The chef had prepared a five-course meal, and we were just finishing the second course—some kind of lobster dish that was so delicately plated it felt like a crime to eat it. Vanessa, Alessa, and Bella were laughing and chatting away, reminiscing about their childhood as though the chef and I weren't even there. I was listening, trying to keep up, but I couldn't shake the feeling that their memories came from a world I couldn't fully understand.

"So, do you remember that summer in Monaco?" Alessa asked, leaning back in her chair with a glass of wine in hand, her sharp eyes twinkling with nostalgia.

Bella nearly choked on her drink, laughing. "Oh God, how could I forget? The one where Dad rented that private island because the resorts were all booked?"

Vanessa smirked, twirling her wine glass. "Yeah, and we ended up having that whole week to ourselves, just the three of us and a staff of, what, fifty?"

"Fifty-six," Alessa corrected with a grin. "I counted."

They all burst out laughing, as if this was a completely normal thing to remember.

I, on the other hand, sat there, trying not to let my face show the disbelief that was creeping in. A private island? Fifty-six staff? The closest I had ever come to something like that was watching reruns of "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous." These memories they were sharing seemed so casual to them, but to me, they might as well have been talking about another planet.

Bella leaned forward, still giggling. "Oh, and remember how we got bored and decided to hold a little 'fashion show' with all the designer clothes Mom had shipped in? We had the staff be the audience."

Alessa nodded, smirking. "Right, and Mom was so mad when she found out we'd accidentally ripped that one Chanel dress. What did she do? Just bought another one like it was no big deal."

Vanessa smiled, her eyes soft with the memory. "She didn't just buy another one. She had Chanel send a whole new collection so we could 'pick replacements.' It was ridiculous."

They all laughed again, and I chuckled along, even though I felt completely out of my depth. Who the hell just orders a whole new collection from Chanel? I mean, I knew Vanessa came from money, but hearing these stories firsthand was something else entirely. It wasn't just wealth—it was crazy wealth. The kind that made even the most lavish Hollywood lifestyles look modest in comparison.

And though they didn't mean to sound condescending, every story they told felt like a reminder that I wasn't part of this world. They were trying to be casual, to reminisce in a way that included me, but no matter how hard they tried, the difference in our experiences couldn't have been clearer.

Alessa glanced at me, noticing my silence. She smiled, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. "What about you, Tristan? Any fun childhood memories?"

I swallowed hard, trying to think of something that wouldn't sound completely underwhelming compared to their insane stories of private islands and designer clothes.

"Uh, well," I began awkwardly, "my family didn't really do... that. But I remember we used to take road trips every summer. My dad would pack up the car, and we'd drive up to the mountains or sometimes the beach. It was always a good time. Simple, but, you know... fun."

Bella gave me a sympathetic smile, but I could tell she didn't really get it. "That sounds nice. Nothing like getting away from it all."

I nodded, trying to force a smile. "Yeah, it was."