This was money Locke had earned.
Since Locke had no intention of bragging about it, Gwen wasn't the type to be a big mouth either. There was no need to go around making a scene. They were just boyfriend and girlfriend, not husband and wife.
Even if they were married, Gwen would be even less likely to talk. Her mother, Helen, had always said that one's life is their own; there's no need to care about what others say.
Just like Helen's relatives, who always thought their apartment was too small and shabby—Helen and Gwen had discussed it: if you keep comparing yourself to others, where does it end? We don't ask for much—just to be a bit wealthier and happier than average. Let others say what they want.
Helen always felt the small apartment was quite nice. Gwen agreed. Only when it's a bit smaller does it truly feel like home.
Take the apartment in the Star Building that Locke bought, for example. It was huge, but every time Gwen video-called him and saw him walking through that pitch-black living room, it felt like watching a horror movie. It had zero "homely" vibe.
Listening to Gwen, Cindy nodded. "True. My dad says every time he eats with his boss, the pressure is immense. Eating with those top billionaires isn't half as good as a burger from a roadside stand."
Gwen and Locke shared a smile.
Actually, there were burgers upstairs. Specifically flown in, supposedly from Tony Stark's favorite joint.
Locke scanned the room. "Wait, where are Robert and the others?"
Kahn pointed toward the upper floors. "Up there."
Locke chuckled. "Still at the card tables?"
Kahn nodded. "They were already there when Cindy and I came down. Along with that friend of yours—what was his name? Dylan?"
Locke raised an eyebrow.
Gwen asked Cindy, "What about Jennifer and Christian?"
"Haven't seen them yet," Cindy said, looking around. "We did a lap when we got here and didn't spot them."
"Then let's ignore them and eat," Locke said, looking at Gwen. "Sitting there for hours actually made me hungry."
Gwen teased, "There's no free expensive booze here."
Locke shrugged. "I can eat thousand-dollar Wagyu, but I can also drink fifty-dollar Bourbon. I'm not picky."
If he were the one buying, he'd go for the most expensive. But Locke really wasn't that fastidious about food and drink. He wouldn't feel obligated to eat only luxury items just because of his bank balance.
...
A short while later, just as Locke ordered hot chocolates for Gwen and Cindy, Jennifer—who had changed into a dress—descended the stairs with Christian.
"Gwen! Cindy!"
Jennifer walked over and invited them. "Christian and I are heading to the ballroom. Are you coming? I heard they have a big New Year's event there."
Cindy and Kahn exchanged a look, clearly interested. "Gwen, you coming?"
"Maybe in a bit," Gwen said, thinking about the hot chocolate that was about to be served. "You two go ahead; we'll find you later."
Besides, she wanted to stay and hear the Captain's New Year speech. It was a good learning opportunity for her.
Cindy nodded. "Alright then. We'll head out. The ballroom should be jumping."
Jennifer made an exaggerated face. "It's packed!"
Cindy grabbed Kahn and stood up. "Gwen, we're going. Make sure you come find us soon—we have to do the countdown together!"
Gwen smiled and nodded. But before she could say anything else, the four of them had bolted like rabbits.
Gwen turned back to the table as the drinks arrived, pushing Cindy's intended hot chocolate toward Locke. "Are we going over later?"
Locke was honest. "Frankly, I don't want to."
Ballrooms were too noisy. They were a favorite location for assassins because the chaos and loud music could easily mask the sound of a gunshot, even without a silencer.
His sixth sense was still humming slightly, reminding him of a lurking threat. He still hadn't identified the source, so he preferred to stay away from high-risk, crowded areas. He wasn't worried about himself, but he was worried about Gwen.
Holding the warm cup to heat her hands, Gwen smiled. "Then let's stay here. I heard the Captain's speech is coming up, followed by a performance by a former A-list singer."
Locke nodded. His original plan was to hunker down in his room, but this was acceptable too. He kept his peripheral vision scanning in all directions.
Then, he spotted Dylan at the foot of the stairs, hitting it off with a beautiful woman. She looked like a widow—or perhaps a "sea queen"—given she had a son with her but didn't seem to mind Dylan's advances.
A moment later, Dylan walked over with a grin, clutching his winnings. Locke called out to him.
"What's the situation?" Locke asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
Dylan straightened his expression. "If you want to know, tell me how much you made at Stark's table first."
"Fair enough," Locke agreed. "You first."
"Maggie. And her son, Connor," Dylan said.
"Married?"
"Divorced."
"Classic you."
Dylan's lip twitched as he ignored the "praise." "Your turn."
Locke smiled. "Not much. Made a small profit of fifty-five million."
Dylan's eyes bugged out. "How much?"
Locke smirked. "I told you that you could have come with me, but you chose not to."
Dylan scanned Locke up and down. "Something's wrong. You walked away with nearly sixty million and you're still alive?"
If this were the Bellagio in Vegas, walking out with ten million—let alone sixty—would likely put you on the "missing persons" list within the hour.
Locke laughed and shrugged. "Like I said, I warned you. So, how much did you pull in?"
Dylan shook his head, looking at his chips. "Not much. About two million."
Two million was respectable, especially considering that was likely the figure *after* Dylan had deducted the cost of the cruise. Spotting something in the distance, Dylan's eyes lit up, and he excused himself.
Locke watched him go, shaking his head. Ever since Vegas, Dylan had shown an unusual enthusiasm for young mothers, especially divorcees.
'Ex-military guys... they all have issues,' Locke mused.
Beside him, Gwen was listening to their conversation. She looked at Locke thoughtfully. "I used to think money was worth a lot, but listening to you and Dylan, I've realized that money isn't worth anything at all."
George's annual salary was only $100,000. Not counting the fact that Locke had just made 600 years' worth of George's salary in an hour, even Dylan's "small" harvest was equivalent to 20 years of George's work.
No wonder her dad said that once she grew up, she'd realize how easily money flows for certain people. She felt a sudden pang of sympathy for George.
Locke smiled and took her hands. "I won't sign a prenuptial agreement."
Gwen rolled her eyes. "I haven't agreed to marry you yet." 'Does he think he can lure me away just by skipping the prenup? Not that easy.'
...
The restaurant gradually fell quiet. The Captain took the stage for his New Year's address.
"The ocean has always been the cradle of life!" he began with an impassioned tone. "Since mankind first emerged from these salt-filled depths, we have viewed water as a chance for rebirth."
"Poseidon! The God of the Sea! He dwells in the depths, in a palace of coral and gems!"
The Captain gestured dramatically. "So, what better way to celebrate the birth of a new year than by riding right on top of that old man's head?"
Raising his glass, he looked out at the guests. "May the new year bring you smooth sailing, and may it stay that way. Cheers!"
"Cheers!"
Applause erupted. Guests throughout the hall raised their champagne, shouting toasts to those beside them.
Locke raised his hot chocolate and looked at Gwen with a smile. "To the new year. And I was serious about what I said."
Gwen's eyes sparkled. She clinked her cup against his. "I hope you remember that vow in five years. To those who keep their promises."
In five years, she and Locke would be twenty-two. By then... they could truly be together.
*Clink.* The two cups met.
The countdown began to swell in volume.
"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!"
Locke leaned in and hugged Gwen, kissing those lips that always tasted different yet perfect. Gwen kissed him back.
"Three! Two! One!"
Happy New Year!
As the sound of confetti cannons echoed from the ballroom, the year officially became 2005.
Locke and Gwen pulled apart.
Caught up in the moment, they embraced, perfectly blending into the New Year's revelry.
Just then—
Locke's Sixth Sense screamed in absolute terror!!!!
***
Read 30 Chapters early on P-atreon.com/Redestro666