They left the clothing boutique with several large paper bags in hand.
Wilder carried most of them without complaint, walking a step ahead of her through the bright corridor of the mall.
Nyxia watched the bags swing at his side and decided she would not let the day end so easily.
“Why do we need to buy so many new clothes?” she asked.
Wilder glanced at her.
“So my wife can look beautiful.”
Nyxia let out a short laugh and tilted her head.
“You buy this much as if I have no clothes at home.” Her smile turned sharp at the edges.
“Strange, isn’t it?”
Wilder kept walking.
“You got angry and threw your things away.
I already told you that.”
“I guessed you would say that again.” Nyxia folded her arms and matched his pace.
“Even if I was angry, it’s impossible to get rid of everything.
One or two pieces should still be left.
A bag.
A pair of shoes.
Something.”
She stopped walking on purpose, forcing him to slow down.
Her smile stayed polite, but her eyes challenged him.
“Everything in that house looks as if I never lived there,” she said.
“No photos.
No clothes.
No trace of me at all.”
Wilder turned to face her fully.
For a second he said nothing.
Then he spoke in a calm voice.
“You have amnesia.
You can’t remember your own things.
There are clothes in the closet.
Bags.
Shoes.
Even your favorite plate.
You just don’t remember them.” He adjusted his grip on the paper bags.
“Fine.
If that’s the case, we’ll buy everything new.
That way you’ll remember you once chose them yourself.
Come on.”
He reached for her wrist and pulled her forward again.
Nyxia clicked her tongue under her breath.
He had escaped once more.
The same man who always found a way to twist facts in business meetings had done it again in front of her.
She hated how smooth he was.
That was why he had always been a difficult enemy to defeat.
If he wanted to keep this act going, she would make him pay for it.
Her eyes landed on a luxury bag store across the corridor.
A slow smile spread across her face.
“I want to look at bags,” she said.
Wilder followed without protest.
Inside the store, Nyxia took her time.
She ran her fingers over the leather, checked the stitching, and studied the price tags with open interest.
One bag was priced at five thousand eight hundred dollars.
Another sat at six thousand two hundred.
She picked both.
Then she added three more, each above five thousand dollars.
Five bags in total.
The final amount reached twenty-eight thousand dollars.
She turned to Wilder with a bright, almost arrogant expression and pointed at the pile.
“Carry them.”
Wilder looked at the bags, then at her.
He said nothing.
He simply took all five paper bags from the staff and held them in one hand as if they weighed nothing.
Nyxia’s mood lifted at once.
She walked ahead of him, chin high, enjoying the sight of the Reed family’s money leaving the store.
The more he spent, the better.
A makeup store came into view.
The glass walls showed rows of elegant packaging and soft lighting.
Nyxia’s steps quickened.
She had dreamed of those products for years.
She had always postponed buying them because every extra amount of money went to support Magnus.
His rent.
His company shortfalls.
His lifestyle.
She had told herself it was temporary.
It never was.
Today she had no wallet with her.
She didn’t need one.
She entered the store with light steps.
Wilder followed and sat on the waiting sofa near the entrance, already pulling out his phone for a business call.
Nyxia grabbed a basket and began filling it.
A rare foundation priced at three hundred eighty dollars.
A limited eyeshadow palette at two hundred ninety.
High-end serums, creams, lipsticks, and brushes, she took every item she had once stared at through shop windows and then walked away from.
When the basket grew heavy, she carried it to Wilder.
He was still on the phone, listening with a serious face.
The moment he noticed her, he lowered the phone.
“Done?”
Nyxia nodded with open cheer.
Wilder ended the call, stood up, and walked to the cashier.
He handed over his card without checking the total.
He did not flinch.
Outside the store, Nyxia felt a strange rush of happiness.
She had bought everything she wanted and had not spent a single cent of her own.
The paper bags in Wilder’s hands looked almost satisfying.
For the first time she realized how different this felt.
Magnus had never bought her things like this.
He said he preferred women who looked natural.
He said expensive makeup was unnecessary.
Meanwhile she had covered his bills every month without complaint.
Today she carried no wallet, and still she walked out with full hands.
She looked up at Wilder and softened her expression on purpose.
“Can we go to the shoe store too?”
Wilder glanced at her.
“Let’s go.”
The shoe store was even better.
Nyxia tried on several pairs she had wanted for a long time.
Heel after heel.
Different colors.
Different styles.
She chose four pairs, each priced between one thousand four hundred and one thousand nine hundred dollars.
When the staff packed them, she stood beside Wilder and quietly added the numbers in her head.
The shoes alone passed six thousand eight hundred dollars.
Still he paid without a word of protest.
They walked out into the wide mall corridor again.
Wilder’s steps were long and steady.
Nyxia had to quicken her pace to stay behind him.
From this angle she could see the broad line of his shoulders and the easy way he carried every bag she had forced on him.
The man she hated most turned out to be generous.
He provided without making her feel small for asking.
He complained about nothing.
Without thinking, Nyxia adjusted her steps to stay closer to him.
The movement felt natural.
Feminine, even.
She had never acted this way in front of Magnus.
She had never needed to.
With Wilder, the act of being taken care of somehow pulled the behavior out of her on its own.
Pretending to be his wife no longer felt like a pure loss.
Wilder suddenly turned right.
Nyxia slowed, confused, and watched him walk toward a dessert counter.
He spoke to the staff, pointed at one of the displays, and waited.
A moment later he returned with a small paper bag and held it out to her.
“Your favorite.”
Nyxia took the bag and opened it.
The scent of cheesecake rose at once.
She stared at it, then at him.
The enemy she had cursed for years had remembered her favorite dessert, paid for every expensive item she grabbed out of spite, and still looked as if none of it mattered.
How long could she keep treating this as a game before the line between act and reality started to blur?