Chapter 12: The Will

Harrison folded his arms, watching me with interest.

He leaned back, gaze unreadable. I sensed his approval, hidden behind a mask of indifference.

“We’re all friends—betting cash is lame. Let’s play for fun.”

The man in white flashed his Rolex, grinning. The others nodded, eager for a show.

He slipped off his Rolex and set it down. “What’s your stake?”

He tapped the table, daring me to match him. I smiled, unfazed.

“Rolex!”

The word rippled through the crowd, whispers rising. I reached into my purse, fingers brushing the silk handkerchief.

“That’s worth over a hundred grand!”

Someone gasped. The pressure was on, but I didn’t blink.

“She’s really going all in.”

I met the man’s eyes, steady and unblinking. The room held its breath.

The crowd buzzed. The man sneered at Harrison: “Or, Harrison, why not put something up yourself?”

He tried to drag Harrison in, but Harrison just shrugged, deferring to me.

“I’m the one playing—I’ll put up the stake.”

I took out a silk handkerchief from my purse and placed it on the table.

The handkerchief was embroidered with bluebirds, the stitches fine and delicate. I smoothed it out, letting the crowd admire it.

“You’re betting a hundred grand against a rag?” the man scoffed.

His voice was sharp, incredulous. I smiled, unbothered.

A few snickered. Only Harrison’s eyes darkened when he saw the handkerchief.

He recognized it instantly. Our eyes met, something unspoken passing between us.

“Savannah!” Harper shrieked, “Even if you’re from the sticks, don’t embarrass the Callahan family like some hick!”

Her voice was shrill, desperate to claw back dignity. I ignored her, eyes on the game.

“Well said.”

Harrison clapped, came over, picked up the handkerchief and shook it out. “Handmade, limited edition—this handkerchief is worth at least as much as that watch, probably more.”

He spoke with authority, silencing the doubters. The crowd murmured, impressed.

An inch of this silk is worth an inch of gold.

I caught a few approving nods, the tide turning my way.

And this was a limited edition from the rising luxury brand, Bluebird.

The name carried weight, and I saw recognition dawn on a few faces. The stakes had just jumped.

“Silk? It’s just a handkerchief—how could it be worth that much?” Harper protested.