When Veronica Lodge returned to the apartment that afternoon, her designer heels echoed like thunder down the hallway. The moment she stepped inside, she could tell something was… off. Archie was in the kitchen, suspiciously folding the same dish towel over and over again. His eyes darted like a dog who just chewed up a new pair of Louboutins.

Veronica narrowed her eyes.

"What are you hiding?" she asked immediately, not even removing her sunglasses.

Archie tried his best to look casual. "Nothing! I'm just… tidying. Folding. Very productive."

Veronica squinted harder.

"I'm not going to chase you down a rabbit hole, Archie, because I have actual wedding news," she said, tossing her purse on the counter. "Josie and the Pussycats are confirmed. They'll be in Paris. Live vocals. Absolute glam."

Archie smiled tightly. "Wow, that's… great news."

"Oh, and the DJ is booked too. I went with the black-owned company Tabitha recommended. Their work is perfect. Think Parisian chic with an edge of Beyoncé at the Met Gala."

Archie nodded. "Sounds amazing. And, just to reassure you… I'm not hiring any pop stars. No Taylor Swift. No Sabrina Carpenter. Definitely no Gracie Abrams. Sam Smith? Not a chance. And absolutely not Kim Petras." His voice cracked ever so slightly on the last name.

Veronica raised a brow. "You sound like you're listing your Spotify 'Do Not Disturb' playlist."

Archie gulped. "Just covering the bases."

Too smooth. Too specific. Suspicion filed—Veronica mentally bookmarked it.

But she was far too busy with her next mission: the Paris venue.

"Alright," she said, flipping open her wedding planning laptop like she was launching a space shuttle. "Next, we find the venue. It has to overlook the Eiffel Tower."

Archie sat down next to her on the couch, peeking over her shoulder as she began scrolling.

"The Shangri-La Paris. Les Ombres. Maison Blanche. Café de l'Homme. Paris Peninsula Rooftop Terrace. And a few others."

Archie leaned in. "Wait, what's the Shangri-La Paris?"

Veronica grinned like she was about to show him a piece of heaven. "Oh, sweet Archie, let me take you there." She clicked the link and pulled up the website:
https/paris/shangrila/weddings-celebrations/

As she clicked through the gallery, showcasing sprawling terraces, twinkling views of the Eiffel Tower, and interiors that looked like they were plucked from an 18th-century Parisian fairytale, Archie's eyes widened.

"This place looks like Versailles on a croissant," he said, stunned.

Veronica beamed. "It's Parisian royalty meets old-money glam. It's perfect. The view is iconic. And the ballroom? Ugh, it's begging for a dramatic veil moment."

Archie nodded, clearly impressed. "I love it. This place screams us."

And then… the big question.

Veronica began furiously researching the venue cost. "Okay, now let's see what the actual cost is. A deposit here, a floral package there, rooftop ceremony, champagne tower…"

She stopped mid-scroll.

Archie leaned closer. "What is it?"

Veronica slowly turned the laptop to him.

"Total: $100,000.87."

Archie almost dropped the dish towel he was still inexplicably holding. "That's… that's… Ronnie. That's a car. Two cars."

"I know," Veronica said, deep in calculation mode. "But I have a plan."

Archie sat up straighter. "That scares me."

Veronica turned toward him like a Bond villain, sipping water from a crystal wine glass. "I'm going to steal the money from my parents."

Archie's jaw dropped. "What?!"

Veronica lifted a finger. "Correction: I'm going to reallocate unused capital funds from Hiram and Hermione's dormant Riviera account. Think of it as… intergenerational reparations."

"Veronica. That's illegal."

"I grew up in a criminal empire, Archie. We invented illegal."

"But your dad? He'll go nuclear."

Veronica smirked. "Then I'll call in back-up."

Archie narrowed his eyes. "Please don't say—"

"Reggie."

"—Reggie," Archie groaned.

Veronica whipped out her phone and texted Reggie Mantle.

Veronica: Need your help. Time to pull the biggest job of your life. You in?

Reggie: Is it dangerous?

Veronica: Only if you consider embezzling Hiram Lodge's offshore accounts 'dangerous.'

Reggie: Say less. I've been training for this moment since I cheated off you in chem class.

Archie stood up and ran a hand through his hair. "Ronnie, you realize that if this blows up, it's going to really blow up."

Veronica closed her laptop with a dramatic click. "Then we better make sure it doesn't."

Just then, Archie's phone buzzed.

John B. had texted:

John B.: Yo, you still coming to Pop's for bro-day? Kevin's already eating mozzarella sticks like a divorced dad.

Archie sighed and opened the closet.

"I gotta get ready. It's bro-day."

"Tell Kevin to save me a milkshake."

Archie pulled on a denim jacket. "Don't plot too much chaos while I'm gone."

Veronica winked. "No promises."

As Archie headed out the door, Veronica turned back to her phone. Her fingers flew across the screen, sending another message to Reggie.

Veronica: Operation Eiffel Heist is go.

She sat back, crossed her legs, and smiled to herself.

Kim Petras? Josie and the Pussycats? The Shangri-La Paris?
Let the drama come.

Because Veronica Lodge was getting married—and she was going to do it her way.

Even if it meant a little light corporate theft on the side.