Chapter 2

I nodded and began packing my bags, intending to buy a couple of outfits when I discovered that the wardrobe was already stocked with clothes that perfectly suited me. There was even a bank card tucked inside. Vincent truly was a considerate and thoughtful person.

At this point, Vincent hadn't completely relinquished his shares in the West family, so my finances were looking quite comfortable. I decided to enroll in a painting class since I had always loved to paint.

In my past life, I had wanted to pursue Vincent, but Lydia had begged me to help her win over the gentle artist Vincent. Reluctantly, I had chosen to pursue the dark and brooding Dylan instead, and I'd regretted that decision countless nights.

The next day, I donned a simple pair of jeans and a T-shirt, took the card, and headed to the city's largest mall to buy some watercolor supplies.

To my surprise, I ran into Lydia, who was shopping with a posse of bodyguards. She was clad in an expensive dress, her hair recently styled—a complete transformation from the day before.

"Hey, Megan! Did you not recognize me? One day apart and you've already forgotten!" she said playfully before remembering something. "After you left yesterday, Mom took me for several spa treatments. Today, she even gave me a black card to shop for clothes.

"She said a president's wife needs to look the part," Lydia added, eyeing me up and down.

Then she continued, "Now that you're Vincent's wife, dressing like this isn't quite fitting. How about I help you pick out a few outfits?"

"Really? That would be fantastic!"

Expecting me to decline or blush in embarrassment, she was taken aback when I gladly accepted her offer and led her to the mall's high-end store.

"I want that bag." I pointed to a limited-edition handbag displayed on the top shelf. The sales associate looked me over with disdain. "Miss, that bag is out of stock. You might want to look at something else."

I knew that bag was a limited release—only five in existence worldwide.

Lydia flashed a proud smile and walked over, reciting a number to the sales associate. Immediately, the associate's demeanor changed to one of sycophantic eagerness, and she brought the bag to us while inviting us to the VIP lounge to relax.

I shook my head. "No thanks; I have things to do today. Just wrap the bag up for me."

Turning to Lydia, I said, "Let's use your card."

Lydia frowned, seeming displeased with my nonchalant attitude, "Megan, what's with your tone?"

Feigning innocence, I replied, "But you said I could buy whatever I wanted. After all, you are the president's wife—certainly, you can afford a bag, right?"

The staff, hearing she was the wife of West Group's president, suddenly looked at her with new interest.

Lydia raised her chin haughtily. "I can afford it, but with your attitude, I've changed my mind about treating you."

Oh, this was perfect. I quickly squeezed out a couple of tears. "Lydia, we're not just friends—I'm also the wife of your husband's brother! You can't treat me like this, especially after saying you'd buy it for me. Now you're backing out?

"You just want to see me embarrassed. You want me to beg you? Well, forget about it!"

With that, I rushed out, leaving Lydia surrounded by shocked onlookers.

In the world of the wealthy, information travelled fast, and this incident would undoubtedly reach Fiona's ears. She, who cared deeply about her reputation, wouldn't let Lydia get away with such a public display of shame.

I couldn't help but recall my past life where I had faced a lot of hardship at Fiona's hands.

I walked on, suddenly thinking, "When I first got that black card, I spent an entire day treating Lydia to whatever she wanted. Was she genuinely happy, or did she think I was just showing off?"