The Rolls-Royce Phantom came to a silent, hydraulic halt outside the Elysian Vault, a name that whispered of myth and exclusivity. The boutique occupied a narrow, formidable slice of Fifth Avenue real estate. Its heavy, polished granite façade was punctuated by thick, armored security windows displaying minimalist arrangements: one window held a single, blinding yellow diamond the size of a pigeon's egg; another showcased a watch with more moving parts than a small engine. The air around the shop felt thin, reserved only for those whose net worth began with nine figures.
Winsten ushered his group toward the intimidating double doors. Lily, Rose, Gwen, and Sarah exchanged perplexed glances. Lily's excitement was a nervous fizz; for the other three, confusion was overlaid with profound awkwardness. This was not a store you entered by mistake.
They were met immediately by an attendant—a tall, impeccably dressed man whose suit likely cost more than Gwen's monthly salary. He bowed slightly, addressing Winsten with the practiced deference of someone accustomed to handling great fortunes.
"Welcome to the Elysian Vault, Mr. Stone. We were expecting you."
Expected. Another coordinated move by the unseen hand.
The interior was a study in hushed, opulent intimidation: dark wood and mirror-polished steel, with focused spotlights making every piece of jewelry seem to hover in its own radiant bubble. Attendants moved with silent, balletic grace, offering crystal glasses of sparkling water or artisanal juice. The luxury was crushing, designed to make the merely wealthy feel poor and the average person feel like an intruder.
Lily gripped Winsten's arm. "Winsten, why are we here? Are you picking up a watch for yourself?"
Winsten gave a subtle shake of his head, his gaze sweeping over the polished display cases filled with emeralds, flawless diamonds, and gold that looked ancient and powerful. He didn't need any more gold; he felt gilded enough.
"No, smart mouth," he said, his voice easy despite the underlying tension of the moment. "I'm buying you a gift. Pick something."
Lily's eyes went wide, and the nervous apprehension vanished, replaced by sheer, unadulterated joy. "You mean it?!"
"I mean it. Anything you want."
"Oh, Winsten! I love you so much, big brother!" Lily squealed, running off toward a case glittering with diamond necklaces, momentarily forgetting the world, the cost, and the three other women standing stock still in disbelief.
As the women began looking around, curiosity overriding their shock, the tension in the room shifted. Everyone—the attendants, the other two wealthy patrons browsing quietly—assumed this immense gesture of wealth was solely for the sister. They all watched Lily, who was bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, pointing excitedly at various pieces.
Gwen, Rose, and Sarah, meanwhile, began idly drifting along the cases, half to make time pass, and half because the sheer artistry of the jewelry was impossible to ignore. Here were watches that looked like miniature architectural masterpieces, rings that held stones capable of buying a small house, and necklaces that draped like molten light. Everything was beautiful, a silent testimony to the heights of human craft and excess.
After about twenty minutes, the senior store guide—an elegant woman in her fifties named Vivian, whose severe silver bob and kind eyes conveyed authority—approached Winsten.
"Mr. Stone, has the young lady decided?" Vivian asked, her voice low and respectful.
Winsten glanced across the room where Lily was still debating between two elaborate diamond pendants. Then his eyes drifted to the three women surrounding him: Rose, Sarah, and Gwen, all looking at the magnificent objects but making no move to engage with the sales process.
A sudden, sharp impulse struck him. It was a gesture of appreciation, perhaps, but also a gesture of control. He wanted to use his money to solve problems—and their worry was a problem.
"Did you all pick something?" Winsten asked, looking pointedly at Gwen, Rose, and Sarah. "Ready to go?"
The question hung in the air, heavy as the store's thick security glass. The three women reacted with a synchronized, confused blankness.
"Wait, what?" Rose asked, articulating the collective shock.
"What do you mean?" Gwen followed, her brow furrowed. "Lily is getting something. We were just helping her look."
Sarah, always the most grounded and least accustomed to this world, spoke with blunt honesty. "Mr. Stone, this place is kind of out of our budget. We don't have money to waste unnecessarily."
Rose and Gwen immediately agreed. "Yes, exactly," Rose affirmed. "This is extravagant."
Winsten frowned, genuinely confused by their resistance. His perception of money had been warped by the AI's endless deposits. Their fiscal responsibility seemed alien to him now.
"Out of your budget?" Winsten repeated, a trace of East New York irritation returning to his tone. "I'm paying! Hurry up and grab something. I asked you all to join me tonight for a reason."
The shock intensified. Rose and Sarah, while aware Winsten had immense wealth via Vance Corporation, still operated with a professional ceiling. This was far past it.
Sarah spoke first, carefully choosing her words. "Mr. Stone, I'm your driver. I get paid very well, and ensuring your schedule is met is my duty. You don't need to get me a gift, especially one this expensive. I'm just a driver."
Rose immediately backed her. "I agree completely. I'm a secretary. This isn't necessary for you to do. We appreciate the sentiment, but we can't accept something this costly."
Gwen then stepped in, her voice weighted by their history. "Winsten, I understand you might have come up on some money, but please don't spend it recklessly. As someone who used to work ten- to twelve-hour shifts driving, you know money doesn't come easy. So please don't waste it on us. This stuff is expensive and unnecessary, and you don't owe us a gift."
Winsten looked at the trio, seeing not employees or old friends, but three people rejecting his ability to care for them. His gratitude felt like a heavy, unwelcome burden.
"Gwen, you're one of my closest friends since childhood," Winsten stated, his voice softening slightly. "Rose helped me a lot in managing Lily and my whole life. And Sarah drives me everywhere and makes sure she's always on call when I need her. You're all important to me. I want to repay you all for being important."
They persisted, however, trying to gently change Winsten's mind, citing taxes, upkeep, and the principle of not accepting such monumental favors.
Seeing the negotiation going nowhere, Winsten employed his secret weapon: Lily.
"Lily!" Winsten called out sharply. Lily returned immediately, sensing the shift in mood. "If they don't get something, you can't buy anything either. You have to convince them."
Lily's eyes went wide in an expression of theatrical betrayal. "What? Nooo!" she overreacted, stomping her foot slightly. Lily was acutely aware Winsten had money now—he had told her he was a consultant for some rich company—so she felt zero guilt about accepting a gift. After all, she was his favorite and only sister.
Lily immediately turned to the three women, dramatically pleading. "Please! I need that necklace! It's so beautiful! Don't make me miss out!"
The other three women maintained blank, determined faces, though the store workers were now staring at Lily with the quiet awe one reserves for a royal princess of wealth.
Eventually, Winsten turned to the senior guide, Vivian, seeking a logistical solution to his human problem.
Vivian smiled patiently, sensing the scale of the impending transaction. "Well, Mr. Stone, we have four exquisite limited-edition gold sets that come complete with a necklace, earrings, ring, and bracelet. I can break the collection down for you, if that helps simplify the choice."
The women all looked at Winsten, their expressions a mix of disbelief and horror. Limited edition sets? For them? Lily, however, was ecstatic, clapping her hands.
"We recently received a collection of jewelry designed by our master goldsmith, using only 24-karat gold," Vivian began, her voice gaining a persuasive cadence, ensuring every luxurious detail was communicated without being tedious.
"This is the 24K Gold Luxury Jewelry Set — Limited Edition," Vivian continued, gesturing toward a pristine display case. "The design is a bold, geometric weave pattern worked across all pieces, expertly balanced with polished highlights against matte recessed areas. Each set contains substantial gold pieces: the necklace weighs 120 grams; the bracelet, 60 grams; the ring, 25 grams; and the earrings, 25 grams—a total of 230 grams of pure 24K gold per set.
"The necklace is a thick, 55-centimeter chain—a genuine statement piece. The bracelet matches the weave perfectly and features a hidden clasp. Both the ring and the earrings echo the motif. These are all handcrafted by master artisans, come with a numbered certificate of authenticity, and are presented in a luxury black lacquered box with velvet lining."
Vivian then offered the financial context. "The retail price for each of these limited edition sets is $80,000, Mr. Stone."
The women, who were standing right next to Winsten, were silently losing their minds, having now heard the staggering price detail. The thought that Winsten was even partaking in this level of luxury as a gift for them was absurd. $80,000 per set? Was he truly out of his mind?
Vivian then offered the financial sweetener. "However, we do offer a substantial discount if you purchase more than one."
"What if I buy four?" Winsten asked, his tone flat, signaling the negotiation was over.
Vivian's eyes widened slightly. "One moment, sir." She went to the back, and after two minutes, returned with the store owner—a man who looked ready to levitate from joy at the prospect of the large sale.
"Yes, I confirmed," the owner said, radiating cheer. "If you buy all four limited edition sets, we will be happy to provide a significant discount."
"Great," Winsten said, focused on the ethical transaction. "Just make sure that the employee over there gets the commission for the sale."
"Of course," the owner replied, beaming.
They retrieved the four black lacquered boxes. The women were taken aback by the incredible beauty of the sets, now seeing them up close. The weight of the gold was palpable, and the disbelief that Winsten was actually going to spend $80,000 per person was dizzying.
The owner personally handled the packing. The original price came out to $320,000. He added the mandatory New York tax, a staggering $32,000, bringing the pre-discount total to $352,000. The women looked at the tax amount alone—a ridiculous sum to pay on its own—and realized $352,000 wasn't just outside their world; it was a foreign currency.
The owner then announced the final price after the discount was applied:
> Total with tax: $352,000
Discount: $25,000
$352,000 − $25,000 = $327,000 is your new total.
Winsten pulled out his Obsidian Trust card. The payment process was slow, the card still loading the massive charge. Winsten's phone rang instantly—a call from his bank's high-security division. He picked up and confirmed his identity and the purchase. The payment was approved.
Winsten returned, holding four exquisitely heavy, lacquered bags. He handed the bags to Lily.
"Choose and keep one set for yourself, and give one to Gwen, one to Rose, and one to Sarah."
Sarah, Gwen, and Rose looked at the bags, their shock giving way to genuine, emotional turmoil. Winsten had spent $327,000 on them in under an hour. Gwen was happy she was getting free jewelry, but the question of where Winsten got this unbelievable, reckless wealth was louder than ever.
They accepted the gifts in a stunned silence. Sarah, still the driver, carefully placed the bags in the Rolls-Royce and drove everyone home, leaving Winsten Stone alone with the quiet, overwhelming realization that even when he tried to give from the heart, the machine made the gesture impossibly expensive.