Page 95 of Trust Fund Baby

“I do,” I admitted, almost breathless. “It’s perfect. Whoever came up with this deserves every award in the book. We should interview the owner.”

Hallie hesitated, her wineglass pausing mid-air. “He isn’t here tonight,” she told me. “But he invited us to the gala next weekend. We should get to meet him there.”

I studied her for a beat. Something wasn’t adding up with Hallie’s vagueness tonight, but the magic of the place was too strong to press her just yet. But The East Side Table was unlike anything I’d ever seen, and for the first time in months, I felt the spark of inspiration catch fire inside me. So I let myself enjoy the evening without questioning Hallie.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the atmosphere soak into my bones. “Fine,” I said, smiling faintly. “But whoever the guy is, I can’t wait to meet him.”

Hallie just lifted her glass once more, her grin a shade too triumphant. “Trust me, Rox. You won’t be disappointed.”

36

Seb

My tux felt like a straitjacket with its tailored lines, starched cuffs, and the faint gleam coming from the polished cufflinks I hadn’t worn since the Christmas Eve party at the Kings’—and the last time I had seen Roxie. Over the past few months working hard on the food bank and the expansion of the philanthropic arm of Whittaker Holdings, my daily uniform had turned from dress pants and tailored shirts to jeans and button-downs, finding them easier to work in than anything I’d worn before.

But for today’s event, putting on the old uniform that said Whittaker before I even opened my mouth was necessary. Today wasn’t about the pomp and circumstance. It was for the families who now relied on the food bank.

The gala was taking place in the ballroom at The Nest, one of New York’s more exclusive private clubs that my family were long-time members of. The ballroom shimmered under a canopy of crystal chandeliers, the low hum of polite conversation swelling as more guests arrived. Photographers hovered near the entrance, lenses snapping at every sequin, silk tie, and diamond bracelet that drifted through the doors. Those pictures were sure to end up splashed across Page Six, which was fine in my mind. The more people aware of the food bank, the better.

I slipped past them without a smile, the practiced aloofness of my father’s son still second nature despite the months since I’d last attended an event like this. My father was already in the thick of it, it seemed. He was shaking hands with donors; his charm as polished as the marble floor beneath us. When his eyes found mine across the room, he gave a sharp nod. This one full of approval I wasn’t used to.

When he mentioned the opportunity for me to build up the vision for the company that I wanted, I took it with both hands and didn’t look back. I’d never felt more excited to wake up every day to go to work and really do something that fulfilled my life while changing those of others.

I took a glass of champagne from a waiter passing with a tray. I still hadn’t had a sip of alcohol in months but wanted to keep up appearances for the evening. The East Side Food Bank wasn’t just a headline project or bullet point for Whittaker Holdings. It had become the thing that kept me tethered when everything else had felt so uncertain in my life.

Following my father’s lead, I made the rounds—thanking donors, answering questions, letting the photographs happen when they needed to. Every conversation echoed the next.

You’ve really surprised us, Sebastian. Never thought I’d see you leading a cause like this.

I knew they all meant it as a compliment. So instead of taking offense, I simply smiled and nodded, letting their surprise fuel me. Many of these people had witnessed me as a rambunctious child who grew into a reckless teenager and then a trust fund playboy. But I didn’t view tonight as some sort of redemption arc for the old versions of me. Tonight’s focus was on the work alone.

A tap on my shoulder pulled me out of the noise.

“Sebastian.”

I turned. Kirsten King stood in front of me, elegant as ever in a floor-length gown the color of midnight. She gave me a quick, measured smile and leaned in, lowering her voice so only I could hear.

“You’ve really outdone yourself tonight, Sebastian,” she said, her eyes scanning the room with a kind of appraisal only someone like her could pull off. “It’s quite impressive. The East Side Food Bank is an exceptional venture.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral, though the faintest edge of pride tugged at my chest. “Thank you, Mrs. King. I just wanted tonight to show everyone how far the food bank has come and how many lives it has already touched. That’s all that matters.”

She hummed softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not just that it’s touched lives, Sebastian. It’s how it’s touched them. You’ve made something meaningful, and people notice that. Trust me, they’re seeing what you can do, the impact you’ve made, and they’re impressed.”

Before I could respond, she tilted her head toward the far side of the room, her expression softening. “Speaking of noticing, it appears your friends are here.”

I followed her gaze. James and Hallie were standing near one of the towering floral arrangements, their heads bent in conversation. Hallie’s hand was resting lightly on James’s arm, her posture animated as they took in the result and hard work of Hallie’s imagination for this event.

“I will let you make your rounds,” Kirsten spoke once more. “I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of you, Sebastian, truly.”

Then Kirsten faded into the crowd, only to be replaced a few seconds later by James and Hallie, who had made their way across the room to me.

James’s smile was bright as he clapped a hand on my shoulder. “This place looks amazing, Seb.”

“I think we owe all of that to your girlfriend, she’s the one with the eye for aesthetics,” I told him, sending a grateful wink in Hallie’s direction. She blushed a deep crimson as she looked around the room with satisfaction in her eyes. James pulled her in closer to his side, squeezing her tightly.

“We made a good team, the three of us,” Hallie said with a grin. “This place looks like a dream, and everyone’s talking about it.”

I let out a low laugh, some of the tightness in my chest easing. “I just wrote the checks, Hallie.”