Chapter 152:
“Of course,” Christina replied, unwavering. “Wherever you want to go, I’ll be right beside you.”
Whether her struggle was physical or emotional, Chloe had come to believe one thing above all: Hope was a kind of medicine. And joy—joy was power.
“Christina, you’re the best!” she said, her smile blooming like sunlight after a storm.
INQ was the crown jewel of Dorfield’s luxury scene—a sprawling haven where the world’s most coveted brands came to shine. Designer handbags, glittering jewelry, elegant timepieces—if it exuded opulence, INQ had it.
“Christina, choose anything you like. Today’s on me,” Chloe said cheerfully from her wheelchair, her voice bubbling with excitement. If she hadn’t abruptly lost her sight, she wouldn’t have needed the wheelchair or Christina’s steady hands guiding her. But she didn’t dwell on that. Not today.
“That’s quite generous,” Christina replied, flashing a playful grin.
“I am! And I won’t go back on my word!” Chloe replied, her tone bright and full of mischief.
Christina raised a brow dramatically. “You sure? I’ve got expensive taste. You might end up bankrupt by lunch.”
Chloe giggled, lowering her voice as if sharing a juicy secret. “Spend away. My fortune isn’t so easy to drain. And if you do manage it—well, I’ll just get Dylan to wire more. Besides, Dylan’s loaded. If you become his wife, we can burn through his bank account together.”
Christina burst out laughing. “Ah, matchmaking now, are we?”
Chloe stuck out her tongue playfully. “Let’s hit the bags first!”
“You got it,” Christina said, still chuckling, as she steered them toward the nearest boutique.
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Soon, they rolled into one of the most exclusive luxury bag boutiques within INQ—a place where the cheapest handbag could buy a car, and the priciest ones could fund a small villa.
Some rare editions didn’t even have tags. They were whispered about, not advertised.
As the glass doors slid open, a sales assistant strode toward them with a rehearsed cheer—until her eyes took in Chloe’s wheelchair and their understated clothes.
The gleam in the sales assistant’s smile dulled instantly, replaced by a thin veneer of politeness.
“Could you take that one down? I’d like a closer look,” Christina said without missing a beat. She lifted a finger toward a sleek, newly released bag perched under a spotlight—a bold piece worth over a million. She thought it would really complement Chloe’s style.
“I’m sorry, but that particular model is reserved for VIP members only. Do you have a VIP card?” The sales assistant’s tone was coated in sugar, but the condescension was impossible to miss.
Christina arched a brow, amused more than offended. Chloe, however, was less patient. She was just about to inform the sales assistant that not only was she a VIP, but an elite VIP—the kind whose loyalty tier required a yearly spend most people wouldn’t earn in a lifetime. If she wanted to, she could have the boutique emptied of customers with a single call. But before a single word left her lips, a voice chimed in from behind—light and smiling, yet drenched in mockery.
Though delivered with a grin, the tone had claws. It sliced through the air with grating smugness, instantly souring Chloe’s mood. Ugh. That voice again.
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