Chapter 67: Spending Money

I sit in that uncomfortable chair by the window for maybe twenty minutes, staring at my phone, at Feifei’s name on that guest list, before I realize I’m going to lose my mind if I stay here.

The walls feel too close, the estate feels too big and too small at the same time.

I need to move, to get out, to do literally anything except sit here and spiral about Saturday and Feifei and Bael’s "don’t come to my office" and the fact that I’m apparently just an investment he’s managing.

I grab my phone and head downstairs.

Liang Feng is near the entrance, probably stationed there specifically to keep an eye on me because heaven forbid the pregnant omega go anywhere unsupervised.

"I’m going out," I announce.

He straightens immediately. "Where to, Young Master?"

"Shopping."

He doesn’t say more, he just nods and pulls out his phone to call Qiao Jun, and within five minutes we’re in the car heading toward the shopping district.

I don’t have a plan, I don’t have a list, I just need to be somewhere that isn’t the estate, doing something that isn’t thinking.

We pull up to the same luxury shopping area I went to before, the one with stores that have individual appointments and sales associates who remember your name.

I step out and immediately start walking.

The first store I hit is one I’ve never been to before, all glass and minimalist design, clothing displayed like art pieces.

A woman approaches with that professional smile. "Welcome Sir. Is there anything specific you’re looking for today?"

"No."

"Ah, just browsing then?"

"Sure."

I move through the racks without really seeing them, my hands touching fabrics automatically.

Silk, cashmere, something that feels like water.

"That piece just arrived yesterday," the woman says, appearing beside me. "It’s from the autumn collection. Very limited."

I don’t care about the autumn collection, I don’t care if it’s limited.

"I’ll take it."

"Wonderful! What size—"

"Whatever fits."

She blinks but recovers quickly, already moving to gather options.

I buy the piece without trying it on.

Then another.

Then three more from a different section that I don’t even look at properly.

The transaction happens smoothly, the black card sliding through without question, and I’m walking out with bags I don’t need containing clothes I’ll probably never wear.

Next store.

This one sells accessories.

Watches, cufflinks, leather goods that cost more than cars.

I buy a watch.

Then another one.

Then a wallet I don’t need because I already have one.

The sales associate is practically glowing. "Excellent choices, Young Master Wuchen. Will there be anything else?"

"The bag in the window."

"The briefcase?"

"Yes."

"Of course!"

I don’t need a briefcase.

I’m not doing business.

I’m not doing anything except spending money and moving and trying very hard not to think.

But it doesn’t work.

Because even while I’m signing receipts and watching things get wrapped in tissue paper, my brain won’t shut up.

*Four days until Feifei.*

*Four days until I have to face her.*

*Four days until she looks at me and sees the person who ruined her life.*

I move to the next store.

And the next.

Buying things I don’t want, don’t need, can’t justify.

A coat that costs fifteen million yuan.

Shoes I’ll never wear.

A scarf that feels nice against my skin but serves no actual purpose.

Liang Feng and Qiao Jun follow behind me carrying an increasing number of bags, their expressions perfectly neutral, like this is completely normal behavior.

Maybe it is for the people they usually guard, maybe this is just what rich people do when they’re having a breakdown.

Spend money until they feel something.

Except I don’t feel anything.

Just the same tight knot in my chest that won’t loosen no matter how many transactions I make.

I’m in the seventh store, staring at a display of evening wear, when it finally hits me.

What the hell am I doing?

I already have an outfit for the gala, I bought it specifically for this event. I don’t need more clothes, I don’t need more accessories, I don’t need any of this.

I’m just... running.

Trying to outpace thoughts I can’t escape.

I set down the jacket I was holding and step back from the rack.

The sales associate hovering nearby looks disappointed but hides it quickly.

"Not quite right?" she asks gently.

"No."

"Perhaps something else—"

"I’m fine. Thank you."

I walk out before she can offer more options, Liang Feng and Qiao Jun adjusting immediately to follow.

Outside, the late morning sun is too bright, the street too loud, people moving around me with purpose while I stand here loaded down with bags full of things I bought to feel less empty.

It didn’t work.

Obviously it didn’t work.

Because the problem isn’t that I don’t have enough stuff.

The problem is Saturday.

The problem is Feifei.

The problem is—

Wait.

I stop walking.

Liang Feng nearly runs into me. "Young Master?"

Why am I scared of Feifei?

The thought lands strange and obvious at the same time.

I didn’t choose this.

I didn’t ask to wake up in this body, in this life, in the middle of a situation that was already completely fucked.

The original Runze seduced Bael while blackout drunk.

The original Runze got pregnant.

The original Runze created this entire mess.

I just... inherited it.

I woke up mid-disaster and have been trying to survive ever since.

None of this was my choice.

Not the transmigration, not the pregnancy, not the marriage, not destroying Feifei’s engagement.

If anyone wants to be mad about it, they should be mad at whatever cosmic force decided to throw me into this chaos.

Not me.

I start walking again, slower this time, my brain turning over this realization.

I didn’t steal her fiance.

Not really.

Not on purpose.

I got dropped into a body that had already done the stealing.

So why am I carrying guilt for something I didn’t choose to do?

"Young Master, should we head back?"

I glance at Liang Feng.

He’s looking at me with concern that’s barely hidden under professional neutrality, probably wondering if I’m about to have some kind of emotional breakdown in the middle of the shopping district.

"Yeah," I say quietly. "We can go back."

The drive home is quiet. I stare out the window, bags piled around me, watching the city pass by.

Except.

The thought creeps in unwanted.

Except I do care about Feifei.

That’s the part that makes this complicated.

I never had family in my previous life.

No siblings, no parents who gave a shit, no one who looked at me like I mattered.

And then I woke up here and Feifei was the first person to show me what that felt like.

Real care.

Real concern.

Someone who actually wanted me to be okay.

I don’t want to lose that.

I don’t want to lose her.

But it’s not up to me.

She already made her choice when she blocked my number, when she cut me off completely, when she decided I wasn’t worth forgiving.

And I can’t control that.

I can’t force her to understand that I didn’t choose this, I can’t make her see me as anything other than the person who ruined her life.

All I can do is show up on Saturday and deal with whatever happens.

The car pulls through the estate gates.

We stop in front of the main entrance and I get out, leaving Liang Feng and Qiao Jun to deal with all the bags.

Inside, the house is quiet.

Grandmother is probably in her sitting room, Mrs. Wen is probably in the kitchen, Bael is at the office where I’m not allowed to visit on a whim.

I head upstairs to the bedroom and close the door behind me.

Four days until the gala, four days until I face Feifei. I can’t control whether she forgives me, I can’t undo what happened, I can’t change the fact that I’m living a life that was supposed to be partially hers.

But I can show up, I can face it, I can stop running from something I didn’t choose but have to live with anyway.

The guilt isn’t gone. I don’t think it’ll ever be completely gone.

But the paralyzing fear that’s been sitting in my chest since I saw her name on that list?

That’s starting to fade, replaced by something steadier, something that feels almost like resolve.

Saturday is coming whether I’m ready or not.

So I might as well be ready.