What would a business tycoon do when a rising film star doesn’t just reject him, but chooses a disabled veteran over him? If that tycoon discovered the boyfriend was about to propose, would it be enough to make him decide to “erase” the competition?
Trevor and Spion traded theories over lunch with the staff. The logic was cold but clear: if they could prove Jack Goblinez knew about Hector’s engagement ring, the motive for foul play became undeniable. With that target in mind, their next stop that afternoon was Goblinez’s boutique chocolate shop: Jack’s Sweetland.
Located on a high-traffic stretch of Fifth Avenue, the store was a small but opulent sanctuary. Brown and gold counters gleamed against white marble floors, and the air was thick with the intoxicating, heavy aroma of dark cocoa. A young clerk with a bright smile and warm complexion greeted them.
“Welcome to Sweetland! I’m Charlie. How can I help you today?”
“Hi, Charlie,” Trevor said, keeping his tone light and casual despite his hours of prep. “We’re here to ask about your proposal service. We heard you can hide an engagement ring inside a chocolate for a surprise?”
Charlie beamed at them. Both men were tall, dressed in stylish coats and leather boots—a pair of high-end customers if he’d ever seen one. “Which one of you is the lucky groom? Proposing to a girlfriend or a boyfriend?”
“He is,” Trevor said instantly, jerking a thumb toward Spion. “To his boyfriend.”
Spion froze for a microsecond before forcing a shy, bashful smile. “Yeah. Big step.”
“That’s wonderful!” Charlie led them to a counter and pulled out a burgundy leather-bound brochure. “Have you picked the ring yet? If not, we have several jewelry partners who offer a discount when paired with our chocolates.”
As Spion pretended to browse the diamond settings, Trevor leaned against the glass display. “How does the process work? Logistically, I mean. How do you get the ring inside without ruining the chocolate?”
“It’s a specialized process,” Charlie explained, his voice smooth from repetition. “You choose a chocolate from the case—or we can custom-mold one. Once you have the ring, you can watch us set it on-site to ensure its safety. We repackage it, and you can either take it with you or have it delivered via our white-glove courier.”
Trevor took a few photos of the display. “Mind if I send these to my girlfriend? She’s a bit of a chocolate fanatic.”
“Go right ahead,” Charlie chirped.
Trevor sent the photos to Alisa. She replied almost instantly: “Oh! Is that a chocolate frog? Tell me it’s enchanted.”
Spion looked up from the brochure. “These rings are great, but can I hide something else in there? Like a JackToy? Since the toy king owns the place?”
Charlie’s expression shifted to a firm, professional mask. “That’s an unusual request. Unfortunately, the boss hasn’t authorized that. It’s a hygiene and safety concern. Toys aren’t rated for oral contact, and there’s a choking risk. We stick strictly to jewelry.”
“Does the boss come in often to check on things?” Trevor asked.
“Surely,” Charlie shrugged. “We only opened two weeks ago. He’s here a lot, sometimes with friends. His main office is in the building across the street, so he’ll drop by after his workday to check the revenue figures. He’s obsessed with the sales performance leading up to Valentine’s Day.”
“Whoa, that sounds incredibly creepy,” Spion muttered. “I’d hate having my boss breathing down my neck and checking my work every single day.”
“What’s he like?” Trevor added. “I always imagined a toy king would be a pretty approachable guy.”
“He’s… alright,” Charlie said carefully. “Not too strict, but he’s focused. This is my first real job, so I try not to get in his way.”
“I heard he’s still a bachelor,” Spion teased. “Why doesn’t he use his own magic to find someone?”
Charlie gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “I try to stay out of the boss’s personal business.”
A new pair of customers—a woman and her young daughter—entered the shop, the chime above the door breaking the quiet. As Charlie stepped away to greet them and show them the display cases, Spion seized the moment. He loudly remarked that the rings were a bit out of his price range and that they should look elsewhere before coming back for the sweets. It was the perfect excuse to exit. However, before they reached the door, Trevor paused to buy a chocolate frog for Alisa.
“It’s not enchanted, I’m afraid—magic food requires a special permit we don’t have,” Charlie joked as he ribbon-wrapped the box. “But there might be a different kind of surprise inside. We’ve hidden ten golden tickets for our brand’s ‘Sweet Night’ Gala in random boxes. Good luck, I hope you’re a winner.”
By the time they stepped out of the boutique, the sun was dipping below the skyline, painting the city in shades of amber. They headed straight to the Dressrious Salon for dinner, with Trevor shooting a quick text to Alisa to meet them there. The party hall was already buzzing with a crowd when they arrived. Finding no open tables, they grabbed a spot at the bar and ordered a spread of crispy beef tacos, tamales, wings, and a side salad.
“Do you guys have time tomorrow?” Alisa asked between bites of a tamale. “The Messengers’ Donation Center is officially opening. You should stop by.”
“I’ll be there,” Trevor said. “I’ve got a stack of old clothes I can donate.”
“I’m a broke student,” Spion joked. “I’ll go, but I might be the one asking for donations.”
“I just want to show some support for Patric,” Alisa said. “I’ll probably swing by there after I finish work.”
After finishing their meal, they shifted their focus to the drink menu. Since it was Aztec Night at the Salon, they leaned into the theme with a round of tequila cocktails: a Tequila Sunrise for Trevor, a Vampiro for Spion, and a refreshing Paloma for Alisa.
They were settling in, enjoying the music, when simultaneous pings echoed from Trevor’s and Spion’s phones. James Style had finally replied to the team.
“Sorry for the radio silence,” the email read. “I’ve been off-grid with friends in a remote area, searching for rare medicinal herbs without a lick of cell service. I’ll be back in New Athens next Monday. See you then. BTW—congratulations on closing the case! It sounded even grimmer than I imagined.”
“At least we don’t have to hunt him down too,” Spion laughed.
“So,” Alisa leaned in, “how is the actual missing person case going?”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Trevor said, reaching for the shopping bag beside his stool. “I picked up a chocolate frog from our suspect’s store.” He set the box on the bar and slid it toward Alisa. “Our investigation led us straight to the owner, so I figured I’d pick this up while we were doing some reconnaissance.”
Alisa opened the box, her eyes widening. The chocolate frog was incredibly lifelike, its skin shimmering with a dark cocoa glaze. “It’s beautiful! Let’s share it, I can’t handle all these calories alone.”
Trevor flagged down Bob the bartender for a dessert knife. “Who wants the head?”
“I’ll take the head,” Alisa decided. “It’s the smallest piece, and you two need to help me finish the rest of these calories anyway.”
Trevor carefully decollated the frog with a dessert knife. Alisa claimed her piece, and Trevor sliced the body down the middle. As Spion reached for his half, a sliver of shimmering gold was revealed, tucked neatly against the base of the box.
Alisa pulled it out, her eyes widening. “No way. It’s a ticket for the ‘Sweet Night’ gala, next Thursday at seven p.m., right here at the Dressrious Salon.”
“That’s incredible luck,” Trevor said, a grin spreading across his face.
“You two should go,” Alisa said, her expression falling slightly. “The ticket is for two, and I’m stuck working overtime all next week because of the situation in Persia and new tariff wars with allies.”
“It’s a perfect opportunity,” Spion said, glancing at the gold card, “We can finally get close to Jack Goblinez on his own turf.”
“Exactly,” Trevor agreed, taking a slow sip of his drink.