The year was 2080, and ninety percent of the world had been systematically divided into wealth classes. There were the wealthy, known as the Elites, who lived in palaces adorned with overpriced relics. Sometimes, Beau wondered if they ever thought to themselves, "I don't need this," but that wasn't any of his business, was it?

He heaved a sigh and focused on what was his business—serving tables—and hoped he wouldn't have to deal with an Elite snob tonight. As he strode into the ballroom, he was met by a fancy crowd, guests in brand-new tuxedos and gowns that would probably be forgotten after tonight. He wove his way through other busy waiters, a bottle of golden bubbles in one hand and flute glasses in the other. He headed straight to a table where two women and two men were chatting. One of the men, Lanet Hines, whom he recognized from tabloids, seemed uninterested in the conversation. Not that it surprised him. The Elites gathered at events like this, pretending to enjoy each other's company. But what they were really doing was flaunting who was the wealthiest and then going about their business.

When he reached the table, he put on a friendly smile and placed the expensive champagne bottle on the table.

It must be nice being an Elite, he thought. That bottle would have covered at least six months of rent where he was from. His smile almost faltered at the thought.

As he poured the champagne, Lanet Hines' eyes met his, and he gave a sly, dimpled smile that almost made him drop the bottle in his hand.

"Finally, some drinks," one of the women said, wrapping her jeweled hand around the flute and sipping her champagne with the most practiced grace Beau had ever seen.

"Can I get you anything else?" He smiled.

"Do you know when this auction will start? I'm getting tired of waiting," the other man asked his friends, completely ignoring his question.

Beau lingered around the ballroom for a while before heading back into the kitchen.

"How long do I have to keep rubbing shoulders with these people?" he muttered, standing in a corner and pretending to keep busy.

"Just until the auction starts. Can you believe the kind of hand soap they have in this bathroom?" The excited voice of his little sister and partner in crime, Ariel, chimed in from the hidden audio piece in his ear.

"Ariel, you're supposed to be in the ballroom," Beau gritted through his teeth.

"I needed a break. These damned shoes are killing me," Ariel's voice came through his earpiece, and Beau couldn't help but imagine his tomboyish sister, in her fancy evening dress, struggling with high heels. He sniffled a laugh.

From the kitchen, he heard the host announce that the auction was about to begin.

"They're moving to the auction room. I'm going to change into something more fitting," he said into his earpiece, making sure Ariel knew to get her ass back to the ballroom.

Beau quickly slipped into the kitchen supply closet and changed out of his disguise as a waiter. He donned his tux—black slim-fit pants, a simple white shirt, and a black jacket that hugged his body perfectly. He knew he looked good because, damn it, he felt good.

With confident strides, he made his way to the dim auction room and took a seat at the back, where nobody could bother him.

"Remember, keep your eyes open for the Graff Pink," he whispered, tilting his head to the side where his earpiece was.

He had waited weeks for this day. His team had set a plan in motion, even finding a way into the mansion of the famous billionaire, Ronald Hue. Hue owned the company responsible for one of the major environmental issues Beau's hometown faced. They had filed countless complaints against his company over the past six years, yet it still dumped its waste near their water supply.

Beau's train of thought was interrupted by a loud throat clearing beside him. He looked up and froze.

Fuck! Of all the seats, he chose this one. He quickly turned away from the man.

"Is this seat taken?" Lanet asked.

"No," Beau responded, not even sparing him a glance.

"Great, do you mind if I sit here then?" Lanet smiled. A smile intended to charm Beau, but it didn't work. 

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "It's a free country, sir," he said, though the words felt like acid in his mouth. For the rich, of course, was what he wished he could say out loud.

"My name is Lanet," the man introduced himself, as if the whole world didn't already know who he was.

Beau felt a brief moment of relief when the auctioneer stepped onto the podium. At least now, he'd have a reason to ignore Lanet.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I will be your host for this evening. Without further ado, let's get started."

He focused on the host, mostly because he didn't want to converse with Lanet.

"First up, we have the Napoleon Gold Encrusted Sword that Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte..."

Beau scoffed under his breath. "You don't even need to market it. Rich folks will take anything to adorn their already adorned homes and up their stats."

Lanet snorted a laugh beside him. "No lie there, but I bet you my life most of them here are waiting for something more expensive."

His eyes widened, and heat crept up his face. "I was just thinking out loud. Didn't mean anything by it."

Lanet smirked. "I'm curious, though. If you're a waiter, how did you afford a ticket to this auction?"

He looked at Lanet and put on the most confused face he could muster. "A waiter?"

"Yes, you served my table. It's hard to forget a handsome face like yours."

He forced a smile, trying to hide his annoyance. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else, but thank you for the compliment."

"Maybe I've mistaken you... maybe not," Lanet smirked.

And maybe if I can ignore him or change the subject, he'll shut up.

"What's your deal anyway?" he asked, his patience thinning.

Lanet cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, people who are here to buy stuff are focused on the auction, and you're chatting with me."

"Maybe I find you more interesting than the items they're bringing out."

A sly grin formed on his lips. "Are you flirting with me, Lanet?"

"What if I am?"

"Then I would advise you don't. You've reached the top of the cliff."

Lanet chuckled, mischief dancing in his eyes. "I'm not afraid to fall... or jump."

"The next item is The Graff Pink diamond." His attention snapped back to the auctioneer's voice, eyes locking onto the stunning pink diamond being carried in, encased in a sleek glass box.

There it is—the prize we've been waiting for. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Beau, heads up, our big money is here." Ariel's voice crackled in his earpiece, filled with excitement.

Now whose lucky palace are we stealing this from? Beau smirked to himself, his pulse humming with impatient excitement as he waited for the bidding to begin. The next mission was moments away, and he could already feel the thrill crawling under his skin.

Sure, he did it for the good of his district—that was what he told himself, at least. But deep down, he knew the truth. Beau was a kleptomaniac, addicted to the rush of it all. He loved the game. The thrill of stealing just enough to sting the Elite. The satisfaction of mocking their overpriced security systems. Of laughing at their fragile egos as they lost their minds over a shadow they couldn't catch.