The card lay on the kitchen counter. It was black titanium.
Buy a dress. We see Lydia tonight.
The note was written in his sharp, angular handwriting.
She picked up the card. It was heavy. A Centurion card. She had heard of these. They were for billionaires.
"He's insane," she whispered. "This has to be a high-risk line of credit." Her mind raced, trying to fit this piece of data into the puzzle of the 'middle manager' he was pretending to be. It didn't fit.
She took the subway to Fifth Avenue. Campbell had texted her the address of a boutique. Not a department store. A maison.
She walked in. The air conditioning was set to a temperature that felt like money.
A sales assistant looked up from her phone. She saw her grey wool dress. She saw her canvas tote bag. She looked back at her phone.
She walked to the racks. She found a black dress. Simple. Elegant. She looked at the tag. $3,000.
She almost dropped it. She squinted. Maybe it was $300? No. Three zeros.
She tried it on. It fit like a second skin. It made her look... formidable.
She walked to the counter. The assistant sighed.
"We don't do layaway," she said.
She pulled out the black card.
Her eyes widened. She actually stopped breathing for a second. She looked from the card to her, then back to the card.
"Ms... Dunlap?" Her voice went up three octaves.
"Just run it," she whispered. "Before it declines."
She suppressed a laugh. "It won't decline, ma'am."
She swiped it. The machine beeped. Approved.
Suddenly, the manager was there. "Champagne? Truffles? We can close the store for you."
"No," she said. She grabbed the bag. "I have to go."
She ran out. They were too eager. It felt like a trap.
Back at the apartment, she Googled the card.
Centurion Card: Invite only. Initiation fee $10,000.
She stared at the screen.
This wasn't a scam. It was proof. He was lying about everything. She closed the laptop, her mind cold and clear. She would play along. For now.
Campbell came home an hour later. He looked tired.
"Did you get the dress?"
She held out the card. "Cam, you have to cut this up. These companies prey on people like you. The interest rates must be criminal."
He took the card. He looked at it. He looked at her.
For a moment, his face went blank. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched.
"You're right," he said gravely. "I... I got carried away. I wanted to impress you."
A terrible actor, she thought. But she nodded, playing the part of the concerned, naive wife. "I'll pay you back for the dress," she said. "Put it on my tab."
He looked at her with a softness that made her knees weak.
"Okay," he said. "But tonight, you have to wear it. And you have to act like you don't care about the price. We need to bluff Lydia."
"Act like a rich snob?"
"Exactly."
