“Of course. Now, surely you know my friends here—Pascal Pang and Isabel Wu of Hong Kong?”

Astrid greeted the chic couple. Pascal wore an immaculately tailored suit that had a slight iridescence, while Isabel was elegantly clad in a strapless black Christian Dior dress with a flared, knee-length skirt. Her hair was swept up into a Grecian chignon, and around her neck was a striking Michele Oka Doner gold necklace in the shape of palm fronds. Suddenly Astrid had a realization that the two of them weren’t a couple. Could this Isabel Wu standing in front of her be Charlie’s wife?

The lady caught Astrid’s flash of recognition, and said simply, “I know who you are.”

Grégoire chuckled. “See, it’s always such a small world when you’re around!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” Astrid said to Isabel, adding, “Charlie told me all about your fund-raising efforts for M+ museum. I think it’s terrific what you’re doing. It’s high time Hong Kong has a world-class contemporary art space.”

“Thank you. Yes, I believe you saw Charlie recently, didn’t you?” Isabel asked.

“Yes. I am sorry you weren’t able to join us on our California road trip.”

Isabel paused, taken aback. California? She knew that Charlie had bumped into Astrid at the Pinnacle Ball, but she knew nothing about a road trip. “So, you had a nice time then?”

“Oh yes. We were planning on going to Sausalito, but then we decided on the spur of the moment to drive down the coast to Monterey and Big Sur.”

“Let me guess…did he take you to Post Ranch Inn for dinner?” she continued breezily.

“We went for lunch, actually. Heavenly there, isn’t it?”

“Yes, you could say that. Well, it was good to meet you at last, Astrid Leong.” Isabel turned to reenter the ballroom with Pascal, while Astrid remained on the balcony with Domiella and Grégoire. The summer heat still lingered in the soft evening breeze, and in the distance, the bells of the Basilica di San Marco began to peal.

Pascal suddenly reappeared on the balcony and said hurriedly to Grégoire, “Isabel needs to leave this instant. Are you staying or coming?”

“Is everything okay?” Astrid asked.

Pascal gave Astrid a glacial stare. “So nice of you to rub it in Isabel’s face like that.”

“I’m sorry?” Astrid said, confused.

Pascal inhaled deeply, trying to contain his rage. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’ve never seen anyone as brazen as you. Did you have to make it so apparent to Isabel that you’ve been fucking her husband up and down the California coast?”

Domiella gasped and gripped Astrid’s shoulder.

Astrid shook her head wildly. “No, no, there’s been a big misunderstanding. Charlie and I are just old friends—”

“Old friends? Ha! Until tonight, Isabel wasn’t even sure you were still alive.”

* A rattan cane popularly used by generations of Singaporean fathers, school principals, and after-school Chinese tutors for corporal punishment. (Mrs. Chan, I still hate you.)