She wasn't sure when Valentina had become her unofficial guide to the upper world, but by midmorning, they were already back in a sleek black car, cruising through the heart of Philadelphia's high-end districts.
The driver — quiet and suited — pulled them into the circular entrance of a marble-front café before Gia could even catch the name. Valentina stepped out first, sunglasses on, smiling like she belonged everywhere.
Gia followed, feeling like a tourist at a luxury museum.
The café was bright and full of glass. People wore silk like it was denim. Laptops open. Sunglasses never removed. Conversations were soft, but the kind that held weight — stock portfolios, gallery showings, charity galas.
Valentina ordered for both of them.
"Don't worry, I know your palette by now," she said with a wink as she handed Gia a hibiscus and rose iced tea with honey pearls.
Gia smiled but stayed quiet. This world wasn't rude — it was just curated. Everyone smiled. Everyone sipped. Everyone saw everything without saying anything.
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Next stop: a riverside art gallery tucked behind ivy-covered stone.
"This one's mine," Valentina whispered, stopping in front of a large painting. "Well, technically my father's, but I begged him to let me have it in the house when I was sixteen."
Gia tilted her head. It was abstract — messy brushstrokes of black and deep red. Beautiful, but violent.
Valentina smiled at Gia's silence. "It made sense to me back then."
Gia said nothing. But in her head, she wondered how something so chaotic could feel like home to someone who always looked so perfect.
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Lunch was at a garden terrace restaurant where waiters wore white gloves and poured water from glass bottles that probably cost more than her jeans back home.
"You still with me?" Valentina asked, sipping champagne from a narrow flute.
Gia nodded, pushing grilled vegetables across her plate. "It's a lot."
"It is," Valentina admitted. "But you get used to it."
"I'm not sure I want to," Gia said, honest.
Valentina's smile didn't falter. "Then only keep the parts you like."
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By midafternoon, they'd stopped at a designer bookstore, a floral boutique, and a rooftop lounge just for dessert. Gia lost track of the time. The sun dipped lower behind skyscrapers, casting gold light across Valentina's sunglasses as they leaned on the terrace railing overlooking the river.
"You're different from what I expected," Valentina said suddenly.
Gia looked over. "What did you expect?"
"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "Less calm, maybe. Less observant. Most girls Adrian brings around are... noisy."
Gia didn't know if that was a compliment or not. But it didn't sound like an insult either.
"I don't feel calm," she admitted.
"You wear it well."
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As evening fell, Valentina dropped her back at the hotel — still graceful, still smiling.
"Same time tomorrow?" she teased.
Gia laughed lightly. "We'll see if I survive this one first."
Valentina leaned forward and touched her arm gently. "You're doing better than you think, Gia."
Then she was gone.
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Alone again in the hotel room, Gia toed off her shoes and sank onto the bed, bags and booklets and delicate boxes surrounding her.
She still didn't feel like she belonged in this world.
But she was no longer afraid of it either.