Chapter 8 Which Hand Did You Use to Hit My Daughter?

The next day, on the third floor of Monte Plaza, at the Chanel boutique, the fitting room door slowly opened.

"Honey… is this a little too revealing?" Serena stepped out, tugging awkwardly at the hem of her dress.

It was a black evening gown, exquisitely tailored, hugging her figure and perfectly outlining the curves of her waist and hips. Even after giving birth, she was still in good shape. In fact, she carried a maturity and grace no young girl could match.

A few elegantly dressed women browsing handbags nearby instinctively paused, their eyes drifting toward her—some impressed, others quietly envious.

When Caelan looked up, he was momentarily stunned.

After years of marriage, Serena had always lived frugally. Most of her clothes were cheap online bargains, rarely costing more than a dozen dollars.

This hidden gem had been buried under dust for far too long.

"Sir, your wife's figure is like a model's!"

The sales associate, sharp-eyed and quick to act, hurried over, her tone brimming with admiration.

"This dress is one of our featured pieces this season. Many socialites couldn't pull it off, but on your wife, it looks even better than on the model!"

Serena's cheeks flushed slightly as she turned in front of the mirror.

What woman doesn't love beauty?

A flicker of fondness appeared in her eyes until her gaze dropped to the small price tag.

Five thousand?!

"No, no, no—this is way too expensive!"

She shook her head immediately and turned to head back into the fitting room. "There's barely any fabric—why don't they just rob people outright? Honey, let's go. We'll check the mall next door—they have discounts."

The sales associate's smile froze for a moment. Her eyes flicked over Caelan's plain casual outfit, and she quickly sized him up.

So, just another guy pretending to be rich. What a shame for such a beautiful woman.

"Serena, wait." Caelan stood and stopped her. "Do you like it?"

"That's not the point…" Serena whispered urgently, nearly stomping her foot in frustration. "Five thousand! That's enough to cover our family's food for four months! And where would I even wear something like this? It'll just sit in the closet collecting dust."

Even though she knew Caelan had access to ten million, her deeply ingrained frugality made this kind of luxury spending unbearable.

"Who says you won't have occasions to wear it?"

Caelan smiled gently, his tone calm but firm. "There will be plenty in the future. You're my wife. I won't let anyone look down on you."

He turned to the sales associate. "We'll take this one."

The associate blinked, momentarily stunned.

"And the white trench coat she tried earlier, that beige business outfit, and those heels." Caelan pointed casually. "Pack them all. I'll pay."

A black card rested between his fingers as he handed it over.

The associate took it. She didn't recognize the card, but its texture alone spoke of something far from ordinary.

"Yes, sir! Please give me a moment!"

Her attitude flipped instantly, excitement creeping into her voice.

A big sale! This commission alone could equal three months of her salary!

"Caelan, have you lost your mind?"

Serena grabbed his sleeve, her eyes reddening with anxiety. "That's over fifty thousand total! We didn't earn that money—it doesn't feel right spending it!"

"Sweetheart, think bigger." Caelan leaned closer, whispering with a mischievous grin, "If we don't spend it, who will? That fake heir Julian? Or that stepmother buying handbags? Every cent we spend is me getting a little revenge."

Serena froze.

That… actually made sense. Using your enemy's money to make yourself look good—there was no flaw in that logic.

"Then… just this once?" she asked cautiously.

"Deal." Caelan nodded.

…

Ten minutes later, Caelan walked out of Chanel carrying seven or eight elegant shopping bags.

Serena, now dressed in her new trench coat and heels, looked completely transformed. Her presence turned heads everywhere she went—easily drawing triple the attention.

"Daddy, I need to pee…"

Little Mira, who had been quietly sucking on a lollipop, tugged at his pant leg, her legs pressed together as she fidgeted.

"Alright, have your mom take you."

Caelan placed the shopping bags on a nearby bench. "Serena, take Mira to the restroom. I'll watch our things."

"Okay, we'll be right back."

Serena took Mira's hand and hurried off toward the restroom.

Caelan sat on the bench, watching their retreating figures, a rare sense of contentment filling his chest.

This was the life he wanted.

Simple. Comfortable. Free from scheming and conflict.

If the Vesper family knew their place and stayed out of his life, he wouldn't mind continuing as a carefree "slacker."

But if they insisted on stirring trouble…

He pulled out his phone.

On the screen was an encrypted file from Robin.

[Preliminary Investigation Report: The Death of Jenny Paulsen, Late Wife of Orion Vesper]

He hadn't even tapped it open when a sharp slap rang out, followed by a woman's shrill scream from the direction of the restroom.

"Watch where you're going! Where did this little brat come from?!"

Caelan's head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat.

"Waaah… Mommy, I'm scared…"

That was Mira's voice!

A surge of fury exploded from deep within him.

Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Caelan didn't even glance at the shopping bags as he sprinted toward the restroom.

A crowd had already gathered at the entrance.

"Waaah… Mommy, I'm scared…"

Mira clung to Serena, her small body trembling. One side of her face was swollen red, a clear handprint etched across her cheek.

Serena crouched low, shielding her daughter, refusing to let the woman in front of them come any closer.

"Hey! How can you hit a child?" she demanded, her voice shaking with anger.

Standing opposite them was a young woman in a glittering spaghetti-strap dress, her face heavily altered by cosmetic procedures.

She carried a Hermès Birkin bag and pointed aggressively at Serena, shouting, "Do you even know how much this dress costs? It's Dior haute couture—limited edition! That brat splashed water all over it while washing her hands. This silk is ruined the moment it gets wet!"

"How much is it? We'll pay!" Serena said through clenched teeth.

"Pay? With what? You look like you can barely afford your own clothes!"

The woman sneered, scanning Serena from head to toe. "That outfit's brand new, isn't it? Did you even cut the tags yet? Probably came here just to take photos before returning it!

She raised a manicured finger, nearly jabbing it into Serena's face. "Ten thousand! Not a cent less! And your daughter gets on her knees and apologizes to me. Otherwise, this isn't over!"

The surrounding crowd whispered among themselves, but no one dared step forward.

The woman practically radiated wealth and power—trouble no one wanted.

"Ten thousand…"

Serena's anger boiled.

This was extortion.

And making Mira kneel? Impossible!

"We can discuss compensation, but that demand is too much—"

"Too much?" The woman let out a cold laugh, raising her hand again to strike. "You think you can reason with me? Who do you think you are?!"

The woman's hand froze midair as a steel-like grip clamped around her wrist.

"Ah!"

The woman cried out as pain shot through her arm, her wrist feeling like it might snap.

She whipped her head around and met a pair of blazing, furious eyes.

Caelan stared at her, his voice icy enough to freeze the air.

"Which hand… did you use to hit my daughter?"