Chapter 3
Sapphire did not like surprises.
She liked order. Predictability. Meetings that started on time, budgets that made sense, and parents who didn’t summon her to mysterious family dinners with zero context.
Yet here she was—seated in an absurdly lavish private dining room, picking at a too-perfectly plated appetizer, while her father, Spencer, smiled at her like a man with a punchline he wasn’t ready to deliver yet.
Sapphire narrowed her eyes. “So. We’re all here. At a random dinner. On a work day. With no explanation.”
Spencer chewed leisurely, exuding the energy of a man who had never known stress a day in his life. “You make it sound so dramatic.”
“It is dramatic,” Sapphire pointed out. “Dad, you’re the CEO of a billion-peso empire, but you do realize you can’t just pluck your daughter from her workload like some medieval king summoning his heir, right?”
“It’s past office hours.”
“By seven minutes.”
Ivory, perfectly composed and clearly in on the scheme, reached for her wine. “Darling, relax. Have a drink.”
Sapphire did not relax. Because experience told her that any dinner with her parents—especially one this suspicious—had an agenda.
And just as she was about to demand answers—
The doors swung open.
Jade entered mid-rant.
Not enter like a person who had just arrived, but entered like she had been talking since the elevator and had no plans to stop now.
“Pa,” Jade huffed, dragging her hands through her hair, “sabotage ito. Sabotage.”
Javier—CEO, eternal optimist, and unapologetic father of chaos—grinned. “It’s dinner, anak.”
“I was creating, Pa. May vision ako.”
“You were talking to the loose gemstones again,” Gemma said, taking her seat like this was a boardroom and not a setup. “Out loud.”
“That’s part of the process! ”
Then, finally, Jade turned—and saw Sapphire.
For exactly two seconds, they stared at each other.
Then, as expected—
Jade made a disgusted sound. “Oh, great. Nandito ka rin”
Sapphire, deliberately unbothered, swirled her wine. “Oh, fantastic. That makes two of us.”
Jade turned to her father. “Pa. Bakit?”
Sapphire turned to hers. “Dad. Why?”
Both men, grinning like this was their personal comedy show, gestured to the table. “Sit, anak. Eat.”
The women obeyed, because they were not idiots, and food this good should never be wasted.
But it was weird. Too normal. Too…coordinated.
Sapphire’s parents were making light conversation. Jade’s parents were matching the energy.
It was suspicious.
Jade, impatient as ever, dropped her fork. “Okay. What is this?”
Sapphire nodded, fingers drumming against the table. “Yes. What is this?”
Her mother smiled. “Well.”
Her father leaned forward.
Javier grinned.
And then—
“You two,” Spencer said, far too casually, “are getting married.”
…
Silence.
A solid, unmoving, I-know-you’re-lying-right-now silence.
Then—
"Ano?!"
Jade physically jerked back, like the audacity of the statement had knocked her off balance.
Sapphire, operating on pure logic and denial, calmly put down her wine. “I’m sorry, Father Dearest. Could you say that again?”
Spencer beamed. “You two are getting married.”
Jade turned to her mother, tone sharpening. “Ma. Pa. Joke ‘to, ‘no? ”
Gemma, without blinking, replied, “Nope.”
Sapphire, blinking aggressively, fought the urge to laugh. “No. Absolutely not. I am not, under any circumstances, marrying that grasshopper personified.”
Jade gasped. “Excuse you?!” She pointed her spoon at Sapphire. “Ikaw nga parang dragon na may pakpak ng langaw. Ano ka, dragonfly?”
Sapphire, offended to her core, narrowed her eyes. “Tipaklong!”
Jade slammed a palm on the table. “Tutubi!”
The parents, entirely unbothered, exchanged looks.
Spencer sighed. “See? Your mom and I are fine with the Robleses. Javier and Gemma are fine with us. Ilang dekada na kaming competitors, but we know how to be civil. We have dinners, we play golf, we drink wine. It’s just you two who have been at each other’s throats since you were kids.”
Sapphire huffed, arms crossing elegantly. “We have not.”
Jade rolled her eyes. “Yeah. We absolutely haven’t.”
Four parents raised their eyebrows at the exact same time.
Spencer tapped his chin, pretending to think. “Really?”
Javier grinned. “Remember the crayon incident?”
~
It all began with a single black crayon.
The prestigious, over-the-top, absolutely ridiculous private preschool where Sapphire and Jade first crossed paths was a place where toddlers wore tailored uniforms and snack time involved imported fruit platters. It was also one where resources were abundant—except, apparently, for black crayons.
Sapphire had been working on a masterpiece. Well, as much of a masterpiece as a four-year-old with impeccable focus and a keen eye for organization could produce. Her drawing—a neatly structured house with a perfectly proportioned sun—was going smoothly until she needed a black crayon to outline the roof. She reached for the crayon tray, only to find that the last black one was already in someone else’s hand.
Jade.
Jade, whose own drawing was an explosion of colors, swirls, and nonsense. Jade, who was pressing the black crayon so hard against the paper that it was in danger of snapping in half.
Sapphire pursed her lips. “I need that.”
Jade barely glanced up. “I’m using it.”
“You don’t need black,” Sapphire pointed out. “You’re just scribbling.”
“It’s not scribbling. It’s art.”
“It’s nonsense.”
Jade gasped, scandalized, as if Sapphire had personally insulted her ancestors. “You obviously don’t understand creativity.”
Sapphire narrowed her eyes. “And you obviously don’t understand sharing.”
At that, Jade protectively shielded the crayon with her whole hand. “Maybe you should have taken it first.”
Sapphire reached forward. Jade pulled away.
They stared each other down, neither willing to give in. A battle of wills, waged over a single black crayon.
Sapphire made a grab for it. Jade yanked it behind her back.
And then—pure betrayal—Jade bit the crayon in half and handed Sapphire the broken piece.
“There,” Jade said smugly. “Now we both have one.”
Sapphire was so horrified that she forgot how to speak.
Jade grinned and went back to her drawing.
Sapphire vowed, then and there, that she would get revenge.
(And, unfortunately for everyone involved, their parents would never let them forget it.)
~
Ivory sipped her wine. "How about your Math class?"
Jade groaned. “Oh, come on.”
Sapphire smirked.
~
Sapphire had never needed to be the best at Math. It was simply a fact of life—like gravity, or the certainty that Jade Robles would always be an absolute menace to her existence.
Their fifth-grade classroom was in the middle of a multiplication speed round when the teacher, Mrs. Rivera, decided to up the stakes.
“Sapphire and Jade,” she said, clapping her hands. “Since you two are so enthusiastic today, why don’t we have a little challenge?”
Jade smirked, leaning back in her chair like she had already won.
Sapphire crossed her arms. “Fine.”
Mrs. Rivera beamed, oblivious to the brewing storm between them. “Whoever answers the most questions correctly gets to choose which team gets five extra points for the next quiz!”
Sapphire raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t seem very fair.”
Jade was already rolling up her sleeves like a prizefighter. “I love it. Let’s go.”
The class erupted into cheers as Mrs. Rivera fired off equations.
“Seven times eight?”
Sapphire: “Fifty-six.”
Jade: “Fifty-s—ugh.”
“Eleven times twelve?”
Sapphire: “One hundred thirty-two.”
Jade: “One hundred twen—”
“Eighteen times four?”
Jade hesitated for half a second.
Sapphire pounced. “Seventy-two.”
The class whooped.
Jade groaned.
By the end of the round, Sapphire had won by a landslide.
Jade slumped dramatically onto her desk. “Math is rigged.”
Sapphire, victorious, allowed herself the smallest smile.
~
Javier smirked. "And that time during a field trip?"
Jade leaned back, a victorious grin forming. "Oh, I won that one."
Sapphire groaned. "You did not—"
"Oh, I did."
~
No one was entirely sure how the argument started.
One minute, the class was listening to a tour guide talk about a centuries-old painting. The next, Sapphire and Jade were hissing at each other like two rival politicians about to throw down on live television.
Jade had said something—probably about how “true art is subjective.”
Sapphire had countered with something else—probably about “historical significance and technical skill.”
And then, somehow, they were fully arguing in the middle of the museum, in front of an increasingly concerned group of teachers and tourists.
“You’re just obsessed with rules,” Jade accused.
Sapphire’s jaw tightened. “And you’re obsessed with pretending that standards don’t exist.”
“Oh my God, art isn’t about ‘standards.’”
“Oh my God, yes, it is.”
Jade threw up her hands. “What about emotional impact?”
Sapphire glared. “What about historical importance?”
It was at this point that a security guard started eyeing them like he was seriously considering escorting them out.
Jade smirked. “You know I won this argument.”
Sapphire narrowed her eyes. “No, you absolutely did not.”
Their classmates dragged them away before they could get banned from the museum.
~
Javier snapped his fingers, his eyes lighting up as if he had just remembered the juiciest chismis of the decade. “Oh! Eh ‘yung college festival?”
Beside him, Spencer exhaled a nostalgic sigh. “Now that,” he said, swirling his wine lazily, “was a spectacle.”
Gemma grinned. “That was Sapphire’s win, ‘no?”
Jade groaned dramatically, rubbing a hand down her face. “Ugh. Please don’t bring that up.”
Sapphire took a delicate sip of her drink. “Why not? It’s a wonderful memory.”
Jade shot her a look. “For you.”
~
University festivals were supposed to be fun.
Supposed to be.
Sapphire had prepared flawlessly for this. As the president of the Vanguard Business Society, she had planned the club’s booth weeks in advance. The execution was smooth, professional—exactly as expected from a Sevilleja.
Their booth? An elegant showcase of student-led business ventures, sleek branding, and a perfectly balanced financial planning workshop. It was organized, classy, and most importantly a testament to efficiency and intelligence.
And then.
There was Jade.
Specifically, there was Jade and the absolute circus that was The Visionary Guild’s booth.
Where Sapphire’s area was refined, structured, and sophisticated, Jade’s was chaotic brilliance at its peak. Their booth was a live art exhibit—paint splattered everywhere, sculptures in progress, canvases propped up in haphazard but weirdly artistic arrangements. There was even a guy in the corner body-painting people in neon colors for some abstract statement on self-expression.
The worst part? People were flocking to it.
Sapphire had spent months perfecting the logistics for their booth, and here was Jade’s group, literally throwing paint at each other, and somehow drawing the biggest crowd.
Sapphire approached the madness, her heels clicking against the pavement like a judge approaching a courtroom.
Jade was in the middle of leading an impromptu spray-painting activity when she caught sight of Sapphire. “Oh, look,” she said loudly, turning to her team. “Nandito na ang ating local capitalism enthusiast.”
Sapphire smiled, but only in the way one might before suing someone into oblivion.
“I see your definition of ‘art’ includes violating school regulations on fire hazard safety.” She pointed at the questionably legal use of open flames near spray paint cans.
Jade wiped her hands on her already ruined overalls. “It’s called passion, Miss Corporate Ladder.”
Sapphire arched a brow. “It’s called a suspension notice waiting to happen.”
And so the war began.
It started passive-aggressively enough.
Sapphire reported their fire hazard issue to festival organizers.
Jade responded by redirecting her booth’s overflow traffic right in front of Sapphire’s booth, making it impossible for people to see the financial planning presentations.
Sapphire countered by pulling some high-level PR strategy, arranging an exclusive guest speaker at her booth to attract foot traffic back to Vanguard.
Oh, Jade fought dirty.
She got a band to perform live at their booth. A full rock band.
Sapphire nearly lost her mind when the drummer’s bass kicks literally shook their presentation screen.
It escalated into an outright verbal showdown, with students gathering as if they were about to witness an academic debate turned soap opera fight scene.
By the end of the day?
Sapphire’s booth won the award for Best Educational Exhibit.
Jade, begrudgingly, had to accept defeat.
But did she do so gracefully?
Absolutely not.
“Nanalo ka lang because the committee is made of business professors,” Jade grumbled, arms crossed. “That’s biased.”
Sapphire merely beamed, looking every bit the victorious queen. “No, I won because I’m better at strategy.”
Jade pointed a paint-stained finger at her. “One day, I’m going to outmaneuver you, Sevilleja.”
Sapphire only shrugged. “Best of luck, Robles.”
She meant it.
And she knew Jade did, too.
~
Spencer, watching the two of them now, grinned like someone watching a long-running sports rivalry. “And then came your intern year.”
Ivory let out a long breath. “That was an exhausting time.”
Gemma smirked. “Oh, but it was also entertaining.”
~
Saphiré Royale’s conference room was state-of-the-art, designed to host meetings for the top executives of the luxury jewelry empire.
On this particular day, however, it might as well have been a boxing ring.
Interns from both Saphiré Royale and La Jadira had gathered for a joint project, meant to foster “collaboration” between the two luxury jewelry brands.
Or, more accurately, it was a setup for absolute destruction.
Because sitting at the same table were two known rivals representing their respective companies.
Their teams had been asked to propose marketing strategies for an upcoming campaign.
What should have been a simple brainstorming session quickly turned into a full-blown debate stage.
Sapphire outlined a meticulously crafted plan.
Jade came in with a vision.
Their discussion spiraled into an endless back-and-forth, both of them refusing to back down.
People started leaving.
At first, subtly. An intern from accounting excused themselves. Then, a marketing executive checked their watch and decided they had somewhere else to be.
By the time an hour had passed, the only ones left in the room were:
- A handful of silent senior executives, exchanging nervous glances.
- A couple of family members, who had stopped trying to intervene and were now just observing the chaos.
- And, of course, Sapphire and Jade, still going at it like they were debating national policy on live television.
By the time the last spectator exited, leaving the two of them alone?
Neither of them even noticed.
Because they were still arguing.
And no one actually knew who won.
Because at that point?
They were probably still arguing about it to this day.
~
Ivory folded her arms, giving her daughter a pointed look. “See? You’ve been at it since childhood.”
Jade opened her mouth—undoubtedly to argue about her arguing—but Ivory didn’t give her the chance.
“And let’s not forget the absolute mess you caused at the recent charity event.” Her gaze flicked between them, filled with the exhaustion of a mother who had raised a relentless debater and somehow ended up having to deal with a second one by association. “The President of the Philippines had to step in. The President.”
Spencer, meanwhile, swirled his wine, looking far too amused for someone whose daughter had allegedly disrupted a national fundraiser. “What a moment in history. Honestly, that’s the kind of passion I like to see.”
Sapphire pressed her lips together. “That’s… an exaggeration.”
Jade scoffed, arms crossed. “We weren’t that bad.”
Ivory let out a slow, measured breath. “You derailed an entire national fundraiser—”
Gemma waved a hand. “Anyway! They made the news. Great publicity.”
Sapphire and Jade exchanged a very rare look—one of joint disbelief.
Unfortunately, that brief alliance crumbled in record time. Because they made the terrible mistake of turning back to each other.
“Oh, please,” Sapphire said, exasperated. “You’re acting like I was the one screaming about—”
Jade narrowed her eyes. “Right, because God forbid anyone challenge the Sevilleja prince—”
Ivory pinched the bridge of her nose. “Diyos ko.”
And just like that, they were off again.
Spencer sighed and set down his glass, looking as though this was the exact moment he’d been waiting for. “Okay girls, stop.” He gestured vaguely at the luxurious setup around them. “Tayo ay nasa fine dining restaurant.”
Javier nodded. “Nasa sosyal na restaurant naman tayo. Makisama kayo, please.”
Sapphire exhaled through her nose. Jade dragged a hand down her face.
They mumbled their half-hearted apologies.
And then, in perfect sync, they turned back to their fathers.
“So,” Jade said, voice laced with sarcasm, “after years of watching us fight like this, you thought marriage was the answer?”
Sapphire scoffed, arms crossing. “What exactly made you think forcing us into something like that would fix anything?”
Spencer grinned. “Oh, this would answer that.”
Javier, thrilled, pulled out a contract.
Sapphire squinted.
Jade tilted her head.
It was a contract. A thick, legally binding contract detailing every obligation they were about to be shackled to, including:
🔸 Live together. Same house, same roof.
🔸 Attend all family and business events as a married couple. Smile for the cameras, darling.
🔸 No outside relationships. No fleeing to a conveniently placed rebound romance.
🔸 Legally change their surnames to Sevilleja-Robles. Because why not?
🔸 Be civil. No arguing at charity galas. Or in boardrooms. Or anywhere public, actually.
🔸 No divorce—until the year was up.
One year. Twelve months of forced proximity, mandatory civility, and the constant, looming presence of their parents making sure they were actually playing along.
And if, at the end of that miserable year, they still wanted out? Fine. They could divorce, no corporate consequences, no family drama.
But they had to prove they gave it an honest try.
Spencer grinned. “One year. That’s it. If you genuinely can’t make it work, you’re free to go.”
Jade snorted. “Oh, free to go—like we’re hostages—”
Sapphire pressed her fingers against her temple. “This is ridiculous.”
Ivory’s smile was dangerous. “It’s legally binding.”
Jade froze.
Sapphire turned. “Excuse me?”
Spencer shrugged. “You girls will be fine.”
Jade grabbed her clutch. “Absolutely not.”
Sapphire pushed back her chair. “No way.”
They turned for the exit, ready to leave their parents (and their unhinged scheme) behind.
But then—
“Sit down.”
Ivory’s voice rang out. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.
Sapphire stopped immediately, though she did not look pleased about it.
Jade hesitated—not because she intended to obey, but because her mother, Gemma, was watching her like a hunter assessing prey.
“Ladies,” Gemma said, her voice too sweet. “If you walk out that door, you walk out of your inheritance. And your titles.”
Silence.
Sapphire blinked.
Jade’s head snapped back toward the table. “Excuse me?”
Spencer sighed, casual as ever. “Simple lang, really. If you don’t take this arrangement seriously, we’ll have to reconsider your positions at the company.”
Sapphire’s nails dug into the strap of her purse. “You wouldn’t. We’re adults. We have autonomy.”
Javier beamed, like she had just said something adorable. “Sure you do, mija! Kaya nga binibigyan namin kayo ng choice.”
Ivory arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “We’re simply offering an alternative to VP roles. I hear project management is quite fulfilling.”
That landed like a gut punch.
Sapphire and Jade had fought for their positions—had earned them, regardless of family privilege. And now, their parents were dangling them like bargaining chips.
Jade crossed her arms. “Fine,” she said coolly. “I don’t need your money.”
Sapphire nodded, voice measured. “Neither do I.”
Spencer raised a lazy hand. “Hold on, hold on. Just so we’re clear—” He looked at Sapphire. “That means no more Chanel shopping sprees.”
Sapphire twitched.
Jade smirked.
“That’s fine. I don’t need Chanel.”
Javier sucked in a dramatic breath. “And no more art-collecting, anak.”
Jade froze.
Sapphire took one look at her and felt a tiny, petty spark of victory.
Jade recovered fast, but her voice was not as breezy as before. “Okay lang.”
Spencer took another sip of his wine and pounced. “No more rare jewelry auctions, Sapphire.”
Javier, eyes twinkling, added, “No more limited-edition palettes or one-of-a-kind sculptures, Jade.”
Sapphire exhaled through her nose. Jade pressed her lips together.
They were cracking.
Gemma, the executioner, delivered the final blow.
“Well, if that’s all fine,” she said, taking her sweet time refolding the contract, “then I suppose we’ll just have to pull funding from your little charities, too.”
And just like that—
The real stakes slammed into place.
Jade stiffened. Sapphire’s fingers curled.
Ivory exhaled, looking deeply sympathetic, like this was a tragedy beyond her control. “Sapphire, Care for Her has done remarkable work. I’d hate to see it struggle—”
“You wouldn’t.” Sapphire’s voice was ice-cold.
Javier sighed, shaking his head. “Jade, Creative Futures is such a passion project for you. A real shame—”
“You wouldn’t.” Jade’s words shot out like daggers.
And the worst part?
They wouldn’t.
Their parents weren’t monsters. As much as they played corporate chess with ruthless efficiency, they weren’t the type to actually sabotage something meaningful.
But Sapphire and Jade didn’t have to know that.
They only had to believe it.
And oh, did they believe it.
Sapphire thought of the clinics, the women seeking desperately needed care. Thought of the mobile missions that couldn’t operate without funding.
Jade thought of the kids—the ones who needed those scholarships, needed those materials, needed that chance.
This wasn’t just about money. It was about the future of everything they’d built.
Sapphire exhaled sharply. “Fine.”
Jade’s head snapped toward her. “Ano—”
Sapphire whipped hers back. “You heard me.”
Jade narrowed her eyes.
Oh, hell no . If Sapphire was doing this, then so was she.
She refused to be the one who backed down first.
Jade scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder with dramatic flair. “Fine.”
Gemma and Ivory exchanged a knowing look.
Spencer and Javier fist-bumped.
Jade leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “So, when will this thing happen?”
Sapphire didn’t even bother to disguise her disinterest. She barely lifted her eyes from her glass as she added, “Since we’re apparently doing this.”
Across the table, their parents shared a look.
Ivory smiled. Gemma smirked.
“Sometime next week,” Ivory said.
Sapphire nearly dropped her drink.
Jade did drop her fork. “What?”
“Excuse me?” Sapphire set down her glass, trying to maintain her dignity as if it was the only thing keeping her from an outright meltdown.
“Ikakasal na kami in a few days?” Jade demanded.
Spencer shrugged. “Well, nag-agree na kayo. No point in waiting.”
“Exactly,” Gemma added, looking far too pleased. “One year is just a countdown. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can both move on.”
Jade turned to Sapphire. “Sabi sa’yo we should’ve negotiated.”
Sapphire inhaled through her nose, very much resisting the urge to strangle her. “Oh, talaga? You think now is the time for ‘I told you so’?”
Javier, as enthusiastic as ever, leaned forward. “Come on, ladies! Hindi naman ‘yan gaano kasama! You’ll throw a gorgeous wedding, make history, and—”
Ivory, uninterested in further theatrics, pulled a stack of papers from her bag. “Speaking of which, let’s make it official.”
Copies of the contract landed on the table in front of them.
Sapphire stared.
Jade groaned. “Oh, come on.”
Spencer smiled. “Take your time.”
Sapphire, ever the perfectionist, immediately reached for one of the documents and started reading thoroughly, eyes scanning each clause, searching for loopholes.
Jade, on the other hand, flipped through hers efficiently—quick, but not careless. She may not have Sapphire’s freakish level of scrutiny, but she wasn’t about to sign herself into legal oblivion.
The room was silent, save for the rustle of paper and the occasional horrified exhale.
Finally, Sapphire lifted her pen.
She hesitated.
Jade glanced at her, then back at her own contract.
And—reluctantly, begrudgingly—signed.
One signature.
Another.
Then another, and another, until it was done.
The atmosphere shifted. Not in a romantic, meaningful way. No, this was the corporate type of shift—one where everything became locked in, unchangeable.
Sapphire capped her pen with finality.
Jade slumped back in her chair. “Well,” she muttered. “That was depressing.”
And then—because their mothers weren’t finished yet—Ivory and Gemma exchanged another one of those conspiratorial glances before reaching into their respective bags.
Jade immediately tensed. “Ano na naman?”
Their mothers, completely ignoring their suspicion, placed two velvet ring boxes on the table.
Four rings. Two per box.
Sapphire, against her better judgment, leaned forward.
Jade did the same.
The boxes snapped open.
And—
Oh.
Even they had to admit it.
The rings were stunning.
The engagement rings—identical—held a heart-shaped gemstone at the center, split into two halves. The left side? Kashmir sapphire, deep and rich. The right? Imperial jade, vibrant and bold. The band? White gold, sleek and accented with diamonds.
It was almost annoying how perfectly the stones complemented each other.
Sapphire tilted her head, examining the craftsmanship. “I never imagined sapphire and jade together.”
Jade exhaled through her nose. “Same.”
A rare moment of agreement.
The wedding bands were simpler. White gold bands, understated, but still elegant—with tiny sapphires and jade stones set into the metal.
Jade blinked. “You made these?”
“Of course,” Gemma said. “A collaboration between Saphiré Royale and La Jadira. We thought it was a nice touch.”
Sapphire’s gaze flickered to her mother. “You planned this entire thing.”
Ivory offered a polished smile. “Obviously.”
Jade let out a dry laugh. “Wow. You really went all in, huh?”
Javier grinned. “That’s not even the best part!”
Sapphire did not like the way he said that.
Gemma clasped her hands together. “If you carefully read the contract, you’ll see that you both have to start wearing your engagement rings immediately.”
Sapphire blinked.
Jade looked at the contract as if she could will that clause out of existence.
“And,” Ivory continued, “the wedding bands will follow at the wedding.”
Jade slowly turned to Sapphire. “Tell me we can sue them.”
Sapphire didn’t respond. She was too busy considering it.
“Also—”
Ivory and Gemma exchanged one more victorious glance.
Javier beamed.
Spencer stretched like this was the most fun he’s had in years.
“We bought you a house.”
The table fell into stunned silence.
Jade stared. “I’m sorry?”
Spencer smiled. “We have everything figured out. You just have to show up.”