Page 187 of The Billionaires

As her mother rushes away, Angela stays behind for some reason.

Oh, no. Am I about to get another lecture on my unsuitability for her brother? Maybe this time I’ll be compared to a lowly donut hole and he to a champagne cake?

“I’d better run too. I take even longer to get ready than Mom,” Angela says but doesn’t move.

I sigh. “What is it now?”

She almost imperceptibly shifts from one high heel onto the other. “Thank you. I appreciate your help with this party.”

Leaving me gaping, she clickity-clacks away.

“What was that about?” I ask Colossus.

He cocks his head.

If I were that good at understanding humans, I’d get you all to hand me cookies every second of every day.

Dressed in my Yennefer outfit, I arrive at the ballroom a few minutes early. Colossus is with me, looking like the smallest pony in the history of equines.

Johnny greets us at the entrance, dressed like a bard.

I smile at him. “It’s like your mustache has waited its entire existence for this night.”

With a pleased blush, Johnny twirls said mustache expertly. “These are for you.” He hands me a pair of earbuds.

In order to expose my ears, I have to push back the jet-black locks of my wig. Once the buds are in, I hear soft lute music, just like I would in a tavern in Novigrad, my favorite city in the game.

Nice.

I look around.

The decorations are spot on; I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Theodora and Angela hired a set designer. The ballroom reminds me of Kaer Morhen, the ancient castle where all the Witchers train.

Spotting Bruce’s father at what must be a no-Bruce food station, I head over and check the selection.

Wow. Even the hors d'oeuvres are on theme, with labels like “mutton slider” and “wyvern tartar.” As I fix myself a plate of different cheeses and fruits, I grab some cucumber for Colossus—who gobbles it desperately despite the fact that he ate his dinner on the way here.

Ambrose accidentally bangs his scabbard on the side of the table. “You think Bruce will like all this?”

“I’m as big a fan of this world as he is,” I say. “And I love it.”

After quickly finishing my food in the designated area, I come out to check the gathering crowd.

Everyone is dressed in appropriate outfits, and I recognize Bob the chef, Prudence the housekeeper, the gardener whatever-his-name-is, and some security guards. Then a crowd of familiar folks walks in, also dressed up, and it takes me a second to remember that they’re from that nearby branch of Bruce’s bank—the very ones who helped in Colossus’s socialization.

Recognizing the smell of his human acquaintances, Colossus runs off to greet them—or check if they have treats.

Angela, Angela’s boyfriend, and Theodora walk in. Both women make excellent fellow sorceresses, while Champ looks like a Nilfgaardian court jester. They join Ambrose, who’s dressed as a king, most likely Radovid V the Stern.

“He’s coming,” Johnny says and nervously twirls his mustache. “Get ready.”

I watch the entrance curiously.

Bruce steps in, looking like an anachronism in his modern clothes.

“Surprise!” we all shout. “Happy birthday!”

Eye widening, Bruce looks around, a bit shell-shocked.

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