From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 81: Retail Therapy

The polished marble floors gleamed like glass, reflecting the dazzling crystal chandeliers overhead.

In the past, whenever Riley had come here with Anthea or other members of the Ashford family, she'd always faded quietly into the background—helping them pick out the most flattering styles, making sure they looked their best, while letting her own preferences go unnoticed.

But today, she was unquestionably the center of attention.

"Riley, look—the new collection! This quilted bag seems like it was made for you!" Lydia pulled her into one of the luxury boutiques, her eyes sparkling brighter than diamonds.

Riley barely glanced at it before turning to the attentive sales associate. "I'll take this one, the gold-trimmed clutch over there, and the white tweed jacket displayed in the window. Please wrap them up."

She didn't ask about the price—didn't even look at the tags.

The associate was taken aback at first, but the moment she saw the sleek black unlimited card in Riley's hand, her smile warmed into one of genuine courtesy, and her service instantly shifted to VIP treatment.

"Right away, Mrs. Ashford."

That title—Mrs. Ashford—made both Riley and Lydia pause for a moment.

Lydia leaned in, whispering under her breath, "Talk about attitude shift. When you used to come with Lucas, they never acted this welcoming."

Riley responded with a knowing smile.

It was true—back then, she'd dressed neatly but quietly, never drawing attention to herself, always polite and composed. To those discerning salespeople, she must have seemed little more than a placeholder wife, the Mrs. Ashford in name only.

Now, holding a card that could buy out the entire store if she wished, making her spending power clear in the most direct way possible—now the title suddenly carried weight.

How ironic.

For the next few hours, the two of them swept through the mall's most exclusive boutiques like a well-dressed storm.

Tailored suits, limited-edition handbags, imported leather shoes, statement jewelry—if Lydia admired something, or if Riley herself was drawn to a piece, out came the black card without a second thought.

Lydia had started out thrilled, but by the end, she felt almost numb.

Watching Riley's calm, detached expression with each transaction, she no longer felt the excitement of a shopping spree—instead, a tangled mix of emotions settled in, tinged with sympathy.

She understood: every swipe of that card was Riley's way of reclaiming a little piece of all those years she'd been overlooked.

Meanwhile, in the Ashford Group's executive conference room, Lucas sat at the head of the table, his expression tense as department heads delivered their updates.

On the polished table in front of him, his personal phone screen kept lighting up. He'd muted the vibrations, but notification after notification flashed across the display.

At first, he'd brushed it off, mildly annoyed but unsurprised—women shopped, after all. He'd given her the card expecting she'd use it.

But as the alerts continued, each amount larger than the last, flashing in rapid succession, he found it harder to ignore.

Five figures, then six...

The numbers kept coming.

This wasn't the Riley he thought he knew.

Since when had she spent like this—recklessly, almost defiantly?

A vague, unsettled feeling crept over him, a sense of losing hold on something he'd assumed was steady.

In his mind, even when upset, Riley was measured and self-possessed. She wouldn't burn through money like this—not unless she was trying to make a point.

"Mr. Ashford?"

The project manager's voice pulled him back to the moment.

Lucas looked up, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room. He pushed down the irritation tightening in his chest and replied coolly, "Continue."

But his focus was already fractured.

By noon, after a full morning of intense shopping, Riley and Lydia finally settled into a quiet corner of an upscale restaurant.

Lydia collapsed into her chair, exhausted. "I can't feel my legs anymore," she sighed, glancing across at Riley, who was calmly sipping ice water. "How are you still so energized?"

Riley set down her glass with a faint smile. "This is nothing, really."

After lunch, they strolled through the mall's spacious atrium to walk off the meal. As they passed a tech and gaming store, Riley slowed to a stop.

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "Since when are you into gaming gear?"

Riley's eyes lingered on a high-end smart controller displayed in the window, a soft, almost playful smile touching her lips.

"It's not for me. I'm getting it as a gift."

"A gift?" Lydia's mind raced—the kind of person who'd appreciate pro-grade gaming equipment was usually a young guy, energetic and probably into competitive play.

She nudged Riley lightly, grinning. "Look at you—barely out of Lucas' shadow and already buying gifts for someone new?"

Riley laughed quietly and shook her head, a mischievous gleam flashing in her clear eyes.

She stepped into the store, asked the associate to bring out the latest model of the smart controller, tested its weight and responsiveness, and—without hesitation—completed the purchase.