The next morning, Lydia sat silently in the small living room of Ethan's modest apartment.
She hadn't slept well.
The memory of last night's dinner still stung—the way her parents had looked at Ethan like he was trash, the cruel words they'd thrown, and the "test" they'd set for him.
Her father's voice echoed in her head:
"Bring Lydia something worthy to wear to the gala. If you can even afford a dress that costs more than the waiter's shoes, maybe you're not a complete failure."
---
She stared at her hands, her heart heavy.
"Ethan…" she said softly, not looking at him.
"You… you don't have to do this. My father only wants to humiliate you. We don't have to go."
---
Ethan calmly folded the newspaper he was reading and set it aside.
His expression was as calm as ever.
"We're going," he said simply.
Lydia blinked at him.
"But—"
He stood and took his keys.
"You need something to wear. Let's go."
---
They drove in silence to Elite Couture, one of Nairobi's most exclusive boutiques. The kind of place where even the cheapest dress cost more than most people's monthly salary.
The moment they stepped inside, Lydia felt the tension.
The shop was spacious and elegant, with crystal chandeliers and soft music playing in the background. A few wealthy women were browsing the racks, attended by sharply dressed saleswomen.
And instantly, all eyes turned to Ethan.
---
He didn't belong here.
His plain shirt, his worn shoes—they screamed outsider.
The nearest sales attendant, a tall woman with perfect makeup, glanced at him from head to toe and frowned faintly.
"Sir, this boutique specializes in high-end luxury. Perhaps you're looking for a different shop?"
Her tone was polite on the surface but carried a clear edge of contempt.
---
Lydia's face burned with shame.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Ethan just smiled faintly.
"I'm in the right place," he said calmly.
The saleswoman raised a brow, unconvinced.
"Very well," she said slowly. "Is there… a price range you'd like to stick to?"
---
Before Ethan could answer, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Well, well, look who it is."
Lydia froze.
Walking toward them was Melissa Kamau, Adrian's new bride, in a stunning designer dress that probably cost more than Lydia's entire wardrobe.
Melissa's lips curled into a mocking smile.
"Lydia. I didn't expect to see you here. Shopping? In Elite Couture? With…" She let her eyes flick to Ethan, her smile turning even more cruel. "…him?"
---
Beside Melissa was Adrian himself, casually flipping through a rack of suits.
He didn't even look at Lydia.
Melissa tilted her head.
"Oh, wait. Are you shopping for the gala? How… cute. But Lydia, do you really think you can show up in anything from here? Do you even know how much a single dress costs in this boutique?"
She glanced at Ethan deliberately.
"Does your husband know?"
---
The saleswoman caught on quickly and smirked faintly.
"Madam," she said to Melissa, "should I have the premium pieces prepared for you?"
"Yes," Melissa said sweetly. Then she turned back to Lydia.
"But for her…" Melissa paused for dramatic effect. "…show her the clearance rack. That's all she can afford now."
---
Lydia's cheeks burned hotter.
"Melissa, stop. We're just—"
But Ethan gently touched her hand.
"Which dress do you like?" he asked softly.
Lydia stared at him, unsure.
"I… I don't know. They're all…" She swallowed. "Too expensive."
---
Melissa chuckled.
"Of course they're too expensive. Lydia, why are you even pretending? Everyone knows you married a man who can't even buy you a decent meal, let alone a dress for a gala."
She looked at Ethan with open contempt.
"Do yourself a favor, son-in-law. Take her to the market instead. Maybe you can afford something second-hand."
---
The saleswoman laughed lightly and added, "If you can't afford anything here, please don't waste our time. This boutique serves serious customers."
The other women browsing nearby glanced over, amused.
Another poor man trying to act rich, they thought.
---
Ethan's eyes remained calm.
He turned his gaze to the mannequin at the center of the room.
It wore a breathtaking evening gown—pure silk, with delicate beadwork that shimmered under the light.
"That one," Ethan said quietly.
---
The saleswoman blinked.
"Sir… that dress is Valérie DuPont. Limited edition. It's the most expensive piece in this boutique."
Melissa smirked.
"Oh, really? He's picking that? Lydia, is he trying to bankrupt himself for one evening? Does he even know the price?"
---
Ethan didn't look at Melissa.
"How much?" he asked the saleswoman.
"Six hundred thousand shillings," she said slowly, expecting him to flinch.
But Ethan didn't.
He simply nodded.
"I'll take it."
---
The boutique went silent.
Melissa blinked in surprise, then laughed.
"Oh, please. You're joking. You can't afford that dress. Stop embarrassing yourself."
Adrian finally looked up, a faint sneer on his lips.
"Security should escort him out before he tries to touch anything he can't pay for."
---
But the saleswoman hesitated.
Ethan had already pulled out a black card.
The kind of card you didn't see every day.
Her eyes widened slightly. She recognized it instantly—an exclusive Centurion card, only issued to ultra-high-net-worth clients.
---
Melissa noticed the saleswoman's change in expression.
"W-what are you waiting for?" she snapped. "He's bluffing!"
But the saleswoman swallowed hard and bowed slightly.
"R-right away, sir. I'll prepare it for you immediately."
---
Lydia stared at Ethan, stunned.
Melissa's smile froze.
Adrian's eyes narrowed slightly.
---
Within minutes, the dress was carefully packed.
Ethan handed it to Lydia with the same calm expression.
"This will do."
Then he turned to Melissa.
"You should be careful with your words," he said quietly. "They have a way of coming back to you."
---
Melissa's face tightened.
But before she could respond, Ethan gently guided Lydia toward the exit.
---
As they left, Melissa turned to Adrian, her voice low and uncertain.
"Did you… see that card?"
Adrian frowned, his mind racing.
"…Impossible," he muttered. "It's probably fake."
But deep down, something told him it wasn't.
---
And in a hidden corner of the boutique, a discreet man in a black suit quietly made a call.
"Young Master Ethan just used the Centurion card," he reported.
On the other end, a powerful voice replied,
"Good. Let them wonder. But it's not time yet."