CHAPTER 386: CHAPTER 386: WEDDING GIFTS

[Edward POV]

"Umm..."

The lazy groan of the girl lying beside me stirred me awake.

I blinked a few times, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. The weight on my arm reminded me—both of them had used my biceps as a pillow last night, leaving my limbs numb but not unpleasantly so.

"Mornin’," I murmured to my girlfriend as her eyes fluttered open reluctantly, her gaze rising to meet mine.

"So, last night was interesting," I said with a knowing smile.

Vanessa pouted, burying her face into my chest and hugging me tighter. Her eyes flicked sideways toward the girl on my left.

"Abby! Wake up!"

Abby groaned at Vanessa’s voice and stretched out languidly, her bare chest pressing lightly against my abdomen under the blanket.

Last night revealed a few... interesting truths. Vanessa’s motivations had layers, and Abby—knowingly or not—had been a catalyst.

For one, Abby always acted like she had the moral high ground when speaking to Vanessa. So, to level the playing field, Vanessa had invited her into bed. Now Abby was an accomplice. No more pedestal.

Also—Vanessa’s own logic—Abby lived across the country, was focused on her studies, and posed the least threat to her status among the other girls.

Her words. Not mine.

I had to admit, it was a cunning move. Even Abby had complimented her on the sheer craftiness of it all.

"Oh. Hi," Abby said casually, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. "Good morning."

We got ready together in silence—familiar, comfortable, chaotic. But as we stepped outside the cabin, Alex saw us.

She froze on the spot, went bright red, then turned on her heel and bolted away without a word.

"Abby, when’s your flight?" Vanessa asked as we walked. "I don’t want you missing your very important job now that the wedding’s over."

Her tone was light, but I caught the subtle hint—an effort to get Abby moving along.

Abby, however, only smirked and leaned in closer to Vanessa, making her immediately fluster.

"Wh–What?"

"Nothing," Abby teased. "You just look so cute, cupcake."

She cupped Vanessa’s chin and kissed her on the cheek.

Vanessa went stiff as a board.

"Hey," I cut in. "Only I get to call her cupcake."

Abby grinned and turned toward me, placing a kiss on my cheek as well.

"I’m flying back this afternoon with my mom," she said cheerfully. "Guess we won’t have a chance to do that again. But if you’re ever in New York, hit me up."

With a playful skip, she trotted off.

"That girl’s an enigma," Vanessa said, shaking her head. She puffed out her cheek in mock annoyance and turned to me.

"What?"

"So, who’s better in bed? Me or Abby?"

I blinked.

"We’re not doing that. Ever. Besides, last night, you were even more excited than I was. So don’t try to pin whatever it is you’re feeling on me."

Vanessa sulked, refusing to answer. Eventually, she nodded slightly and murmured, "Well, I gotta give you credit. You didn’t go full beast mode and get all overly excited, that’s for sure. I guess... you still love me even after all that, huh?"

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I mean, my... performance might’ve been slightly under my usual standard, but it was more than enough to satisfy both of them. Thankfully, there were only two.

My side effects were completely gone this morning. So if this situation repeats itself, it would’ve been a different story.

...

"There’s a lot of wedding gifts, despite us not registering for the wedding," Frankie commented, staring at the mountain of wrapped packages stacked like some colorful fortress.

She sank into the couch beside Dad and the others while I stood with Vanessa off to the side.

Most of the guests had gone home. Only family and a few close friends remained at the ranch. I needed to fly back to California today to resume filming Now You See Me.

It was frustrating. I only had two full days left to shoot before I had to fly to Cuba... with the President. Even though I was on a break, I still had a lot of things to do.

"Here. This one’s from me," I said, handing Frankie a slim envelope.

"What’s this, Edward? If you gave us money to buy our own gift, we’d be so disappointed in you," Dad said with mock disapproval.

"Why? What if it’s a ten-million-dollar check? Would you still be disappointed?" I asked with a deadpan expression.

Phil, Claire, Dad, and Aunt May stared at me, speechless. Frankie, thankfully, had the sense to open the envelope before reacting.

"An ownership certificate... for an island in the Bahamas?" she said, her voice rising in disbelief as she looked up at me.

I pursed my lips, a little unsatisfied. I glanced toward Vanessa.

"I could only buy a small one. I wanted the sale to go through faster. I did want to give you something else, but Ness stopped me."

All eyes turned to Vanessa, who immediately threw her hands up.

"Because the other thing was ridiculous, that’s why!" she protested. Then she turned to Frankie.

"He wanted to bury a hundred million dollars’ worth of gold and give your husband a treasure map. It would’ve taken him three months to find everything—if he could even solve the absurdly complex riddles Edward was planning!"

The room went dead silent.

Then Dad stood up and placed a firm hand on my shoulder, his eyes sparkling like a kid hearing about pirate treasure for the first time.

"Treasure map? Seriously?"

"Yeah. Would’ve been awesome, right? I even planned it out like the final Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Hidden clues, ancient keys, fake trails..."

Dad nodded, completely on board.

Frankie and Ness could only gape at us, their faces frozen in identical expressions of disbelief.

"You two really are father and son," Aunt May muttered, exasperated. "Frankie is pregnant! You can’t just leave her behind to go gallivanting across the globe digging random holes!"

Frankie surprised everyone when she casually replied, "Well, the pregnancy won’t be that bad in the first trimester. I haven’t had much morning sickness or food aversion. Honestly, I could go with him."

"That’s exactly what I planned!" I snapped my fingers and grinned. "A honeymoon. Digging up treasure—sun, sand, mystery!"

"NO!!!" Ness, Maggie, Amy, and Aunt May all barked in perfect sync, shutting the idea down instantly.

Frankie hugged me after the laughter died down. "Thank you for the wedding gift, Edward. But you didn’t have to give us anything. Honestly, you’ve already done more than enough for us—for me. A lifetime of favors, really."

I hugged her back, patting her shoulder with a sly grin. "Well, we’re family. And besides, a wedding gift is an obligatory social convention. Don’t blame me for giving it—blame society for conditioning me into it."

Amy, hovering near the pile of gifts, picked up the island certificate and asked, "So Edward, if I get married, will I get an island too?"

"You want one? I can buy you one right next to theirs—"

"No!" Aunt May interrupted, practically lunging to cut me off. She glared at Amy before turning her attention to me. "Edward, I think it’s time for a hard reset. This kind of lavish, money-burning lifestyle of yours can’t be sustainable."

Ness let out a quiet chuckle and whispered, "If only she knew how much money he actually has now."

"She’s not wrong," I admitted, nodding to Aunt May. That earned me a few confused looks around the room. "If I don’t have an anchor, it’s really easy to lose touch with reality. And I hate those kinds of people—the ones who forget what it means to be grounded. So honestly, please, feel free to call me out on my shit. I’ll be grateful."

"Awww... that’s sickening," Amy commented with a shiver.

"Yeah, him being all emotionally mature is creeping me out," Maggie added.

I just shrugged, unfazed. We moved on to opening the rest of the gifts, but soon it was time for me to head out. The chopper was waiting.

Frankie gave me another hug just before I climbed aboard.

"Hey, Edward," she said softly. "I have a question about the ring. I think I saw it glow for a second when I took it off before my shower..."

I smiled, leaning closer to whisper, "Well, you know what I can do. The ring’s enchanted."

Frankie’s eyes widened. "What kind of enchantments? You cast another spell? Won’t there be backlash again?"

"Nah, this one’s light. No backlash. Just a few protective wards. Increased health—mind and body—resistance to mind control, poison, fire, stuff like that."

"What—why? Why would you give me a ring with all that on it?" She looked stunned again. Then a spark lit behind her eyes as her voice dropped. "Wait. Is this because you have enemies? Like... shadow magicians trying to destroy the world, and you’re the only one standing in their way?"

I beamed, unable to contain my amusement. "Frankie! You’ve finally watched enough TV!"

She didn’t laugh. She was still waiting for a real answer.

I waved her off. "Don’t worry. There’s no shadow magicians... I think. Never met one, anyway. It’s just a normal enchantment. Most of the jewelry I make has those effects."

Frankie’s jaw dropped. "But you told me to auction those!"

"Yep," I said, nodding. "Sell ’em off. I don’t need them anymore. Just check with the girls first—see if they want to buy any. Then use the money to fund the college sponsorships and inner-city outreach programs."

"But... they’re enchanted."

"Sure, but they’re obsolete compared to what I can do now. I could whip up better ones in my sleep."

Frankie stared at me, stunned speechless again. It felt oddly nice being able to talk about this stuff out in the open now.

As I boarded the plane, Sage joined me for the ride back. Dad, my cousins, and both moms decided to stay at the ranch a bit longer to relax. I briefly considered building a proper landing strip on the property to make flights easier.

"Wait... That’s the broken money sense again," I muttered, snapping myself out of it. Grandpa would definitely kill me if I tore up his ranch just to land a jet.

Once we were airborne, Ness curled up in her seat and fell asleep almost instantly, trying to stave off jet lag. That left me alone with Sage.

She gave me that look, that judgy look.

I poured myself a glass of grape juice. Not wine. Just juice.

"Edward, You know I don’t usually stick my nose in your business."

I blinked at her, feigning innocence. "What did I do?"

She stared. "You know what you did."

"I really don’t," I insisted.

She narrowed her eyes, "You’re not... doing anything stupid, are you? Like... I don’t know... messing around with an esper serum?"

I kept my smile perfectly intact. "You mean, finding ways to turn normal humans into super powered individuals and using them as experimental data to see if they’ll retain their humanity or turn into villains? Nope. Not at all."

"Really? Because I know for a fact you’re definitely messing with an esper serum."

"Well, not for that reason. Besides, have I ever done something irreversible?"

She didn’t miss a beat. "Your night with your ex and your current girlfriend comes to mind."

My posture straightened instantly. "Wait, I thought that was fine? Besides, it was her idea."

"Yeah, in hindsight, maybe that one’s not fully on you." Sage leaned back, folding her arms. "But that girl’s gonna have a rough couple of weeks. Poor girl."

I went quiet.

Sage studied me for a second longer, then softened her voice.

"Or... it could be a lot easier if you just show her how much she means to you. She’s so insecure about being with you that she even planned last night to prove she’s fun, she’s open minded, she’s a girl you need to keep around. That’s not about fun, that’s about fear."

"I... never thought about it like that."

Sage sighed. "It’s not entirely your fault. Maybe...15% your fault. But it’s more her ex boyfriend’s fault rather than yours."

I rubbed my chin, really taking it in. "So if she brings up the idea again... I shouldn’t say yes?"

Sage raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to do it again?"

I chuckled awkwardly, waving it off. "Just an example. What should I do if she brings it up?"

"Sit down with her. Talk. If you say you don’t want to, she’ll think you’ve caught feelings for Abby. If you say you do want to, she’ll think she’s not enough. Either way, you’re screwed."

I stared at her in silence.

Sage sipped my juice and said, "It’s better to be screwed now than when it’s completely irreversible. So, don’t wait too long."

—

As soon as we landed in California, Ness and I sat down to talk. We almost broke up.

But in the end... we decided to give it another shot.

When I boarded the flight to Cuba with the President of the United States, I looked like death with a boarding pass. The bags under my eyes even shocked Vader.

He looked at me, visibly concerned. "What’s wrong with you? Didn’t get any sleep?"

I exhaled slowly. "Something like that."

We talked—for two days straight—all while I was filming. My brain was fried. If I had to choose between fighting supersoldiers again or having that conversation, I’d pick the supersoldiers.

Abed finished editing the documentary just before Air Force One took off. I kept my promise and brought Troy to meet the president.

The trip—along with me—was heavily publicized by the global media. The Cuban press remained skeptical of the President’s intentions, but I was warmly welcomed.

They called it a Cuban son coming home.

"Is it going to a streaming platform or theaters?" the President asked, making small talk as we sat across from each other.

"Theater. I want some money back. Insurance doesn’t exactly cover attacks from rogue, superpowered ex-intelligence agents," I said with a touch of sarcasm.

He chuckled. "Well, be sure to include that in your next report. That guy’s still out there."

"I’m wearing my insurance." He said as he knocked on his chest, producing a metalling clanging. "Maybe you should have one too—just in case."

He smiled, adjusting his tie slightly, hinting at the metal armor hidden beneath his suit.

"No thanks. I can grab anything around me to be used as a weapon and I’m good to go." I said dismissively.

"I’ve seen the video," he said. "You should teach me some of your moves. I don’t think any of my instructors can fight the way you do."

"My instructors? You’ll die if you train with her. I’ll introduce you to someone else when we get back to the US." I said urgently.

...

The arrival of the President of the United States wasn’t met with fanfare as we landed in Cuba.

No cheering crowds. No waving flags. No forced celebrations.

In fact, the Cuban people didn’t seem particularly concerned with the visit at all. They were focused on something more important—their future.

After the revolution, they had already crowned their hero. Sado—once a quiet economics professor, now the chosen leader of a new republic.

Elected by a weary, wounded population not because he promised miracles, but because he told the truth about the situation of the country. Because he stayed.

When others fled, when the regime fell, he remained behind to help the country rebuild—brick by brick, law by law. With the help of some of Denmark’s finest, the new government had finished the restructuring.

And now Sado had to walk the razor’s edge. Luckily, he’s an android.

Sado greeted the U.S. president with quiet dignity. A firm handshake. A nod. No theater. No performance. Just two men walking toward the Palacio de la Revolución.

"I’m going to skip the diplomatic theater," I told them, subtly recusing myself. "Thought I’d see the city."

The two leaders shared a glance. Neither stopped me. They had their own show to perform behind closed doors—one of impossible contradictions.

Because here was the truth;

Cuba needed the embargo lifted. It was choking them. Foreign investment had stalled. Tourism was fragile. Imports of food and medicine, even with black market networks, weren’t enough. Legally opening trade routes could give them breathing room—actual, tangible relief.

But lifting the embargo meant dealing with the United States, and the United States did not deal without strings. Even if Barack wanted to, he’s not the only voice in Washington.

They would demand transparency. "Security cooperation." Access to ports. Influence over customs laws. And worst of all—military compliance. They are like insecure girlfriends, traumatized by the Cold War boyfriend, and now carrying the baggage in every new relationship.

Sado knew the game. He wasn’t naïve. I didn’t need to help him.

If he publicly agreed to keep Cuba demilitarized, the old revolutionaries—many still holding seats in local assemblies—would call him a traitor. A comprador. A servant in Washington’s kitchen.

But if he didn’t play along, the embargo would stay. And Cuba, still fragile, still healing, would suffer. Not from war, but from lack of food, lack of medicine, lack of dignity. Suffering, slow and silent, is the more effective colonizer.

I helped to smuggle food and medicine into the country, but it would be much more efficient if we could do it the right way.

So what was the play?

Sado didn’t posture. He didn’t threaten. He didn’t beg.

Instead, in those closed-door talks, he’d lay out something shrewd.

Cuba would remain neutral. They would not join military alliances, nor sign bilateral defense pacts. Their forces would remain defensive only. They would accept UN observers, but not U.S. military "advisors."

In return, they asked only for trade. No aid. No loans. No advisors. Just open sea lanes, fair tariffs, and respect.

Sado was clear: "Cuba will not sell sovereignty for survival. But we will trade, fairly, with anyone who treats us as an equal."

The Cuban people listened closely—not to the U.S. President, but to their own. Sado had been completely transparent in his plans.

"We’ll skip the boring stuff. Bring me somewhere fun, Isabella." I told the tour guide/government official responsible for my trip here.