Story code: ST-001188
Part 2: The Gold Standard
Claire looked down at the object that had landed against her fingers. It was a heavy, matte-black card with an embossed gold emblem at the top. Maeve, leaning slightly forward under the pretense of adjusting her monitor, recognized the distinctive crest of a Swiss watchmaker specializing in bespoke timepieces.
“Give that to me,” Arthur said. His voice lost its smooth, pleading tone, replaced by a sudden, harsh authority. He reached across the counter, his hand outstretched.
Claire did not hand it back. Instead, she flipped the card over. Her eyes scanned the printed text on the reverse side. She read the words aloud, her voice flat and completely devoid of inflection. “Patek Philippe Grand Complications. Chronograph in white gold. Date of purchase: October 14. Time: 9:15 AM. Registered owner: Arthur Vance.”
Maeve checked the digital clock on her clinic monitor. It was currently 1:45 PM. The purchase had been made less than five hours ago.
“It is a business asset,” Arthur said, his hand dropping back to his side. His shoulders squared, and he looked down his nose at his daughter. “At my level of negotiation, appearance is capital. If I attend the trust renegotiations wearing a mid-tier timepiece, the board will sense blood in the water. That watch is leverage. It ensures the trust is unfrozen.”
“Leverage,” Claire repeated. She held the card by its edges, her thumb tracing the embossed gold seal. “You told me you didn’t have the funds to pay for the vial. You told me the clinic would turn you away if I didn’t authorize this payment today. You sat in my office yesterday and wept, Dad. You wept and said you were terrified of aging.”
“I am facing a biological crisis,” Arthur snapped, his face reddening slightly under his smooth skin. He tapped his finger hard against the glass casing of Treatment Vial 90-A. “The watch was purchased on credit lines that cannot be used for medical services. It is entirely separate. You understand nothing of how these accounts are structured.”
Maeve quietly checked the clinic’s billing ledger. The system accepted all major lines of credit, including the exact corporate card Arthur used for his luxury lifestyle. She remained silent, keeping her hands flat on the desk, observing the physical space between the two family members grow wider.
“You had one hundred and twenty thousand dollars of credit this morning,” Claire said. She stood up straighter, her trembling hand suddenly steady. “But you chose to spend it on a watch, and then you came here to demand I put my studio at risk to cover your medical bills.”
“It is your duty,” Arthur said, his voice rising, his eyes flashing with anger. “I gave you everything. Without my name, you are nothing in this city. If you do not sign that authorization screen right now, do not expect to see a single cent of the legacy when the trust settles. I will write you out by tomorrow morning.”
Claire looked at the glowing green screen of the payment terminal, then back to the card in her hand.