So with everything that was going on, it really was no small wonder that a few things on the business side got neglected.

I arrived at the Pink Sapphires office a little earlier than I normally did. There was a fair bit to catch up on, after all. I’d taken some time off work to deal with the whirlwind that was our engagement, but I had no doubt that Lakshi and Danushka would be able to handle things without an issue.

Which is why I was surprised when I was going through this quarter’s financial summary.

My family might’ve lacked warmth and compassion, but one thing I was taught to do from a young age was to follow the numbers. My father taught me about balance sheets when I was ten years old. I barely needed a calculator to make sure things added up just right. And I know I might sound flippant with my spending, but I’m usually certain of exactly how much is in my bank account. There’s a reason why the rich stay rich, you know.

And so I knew the moment I started flipping through the report that something was wrong. I checked the last page and saw the head of finance’s stamp and signature. This document had already been checked and approved. That was weird. My dad insisted that all Pink Sapphire’s profit and loss accounts (well, there’s really no profit—we are a charity after all) be run through his main finance team, and that was headed by Mr. Ananda. I sent him a text right away.

Mr. Ananda, good morning. I need to meet you re: last month’s p&l. When can I stop by your office?

—

Mr. Ananda’s office was on the same floor as my dad’s, at the very top of the building. I’d tried to get the floor for myself—the light up there was truly stunning for shooting content—but my father had flatly refused. I think Tehani might have had something to do with that, which was a bitch move on her part. I have a feeling she’s been eyeing that floor for when she finally gets it together and launches that clothing line she won’t shut up about, but she’ll have to fight me for it, if it ever comes to that.

“Hi, Thaththa,” I called out, hoping to make it directly to Mr. Ananda’s cubicle without any distractions, but my father waved me in.

“Good news, Duwa! The Mount Lavinia Hotel said they can block out the whole place for us,” he called out, a little louder than I would have liked. My father never did know the meaning of the word “tact.” I just gave him a small smile, tucked my chin down, and mumbled loudly that it really wasn’t necessary. I couldn’t have our staff thinking I was some kind of spoiled brat, could I?

“Have you met Chamara? He’s helping us out with the interior for the new outlet.”

“How do you do, Chamara?” I said, dutifully, to the young man who turned beet red and didn’t meet my eye. I hoped he wasn’t giving us some ridiculous quote or something. My father was really going over the top for this new showroom, probably because he wanted to show off to Spencer.