Chapter four

SYLVIA POV

The next morning, Darian was waiting by the car when I came downstairs. He wore a charcoal coat over a dark shirt, his expression as calm and unreadable as it had been the night before. I had changed into one of the outfits that had been left in my closet—a simple cream blouse and a dark skirt. They fit well, but the unfamiliar softness of the fabric made me feel as if I were borrowing someone else’s life.

“Ready?” he asked.

I glanced at the car, then back at him. “You really don’t mind taking me shopping?”

“I offered, didn’t I?”

There was no impatience in his voice. No hint that I was being difficult or that he expected me to be grateful for every second of his time. Still, I hesitated.

The last time I’d gone shopping with a man, I’d been careful to choose only what I could justify. I’d learned to calculate the cost of every want before I admitted to having it. Even when Julian’s company had begun to flourish, I’d rarely bought anything for myself. There was always another investment, another opportunity, another expense that seemed more important.

I had told myself that was what partnership meant.

I had told myself a lot of things.

Darian opened the car door for me. “You can pick what you like, Sylvia. There’s no need to make it a test.”

A test.

I wondered if he could see the question in my face: whether his offer came with conditions, whether there was a price hidden beneath the kindness. I had spent a lifetime learning to look for the hook.

“I’ll try,” I said.

The ride to the mall passed in comfortable silence. Darian didn’t fill it with questions. He simply sat beside me, giving me room to look out the window and gather my thoughts.

The shopping center was all glass, polished stone, and bright displays. The kind of place I used to pass without going in—not because I couldn’t afford to browse, but because browsing had a way of turning into wanting. And wanting had always felt dangerous. Darian led me toward a row of clothing boutiques. A sales associate greeted us at the entrance of the first store, her smile sharpening slightly when she recognized him.

“Good morning, Mr. Darkmouth. Welcome back.”

“Good morning,” he replied. Then he turned toward me. “Take a look around. If you see anything you like, try it on.”

I nodded and stepped inside.

At first, I stayed close to the entrance, looking over the racks without touching anything. The clothes were beautiful—silk blouses in soft colors, tailored coats, dresses that flowed like water. Each one seemed designed for a woman who had never been told to make herself smaller.

*The red one, * a deep, rumbling voice purred in the back of my mind. *Our mate should wear the red one. It looks like the berries near the river.*

I glanced at Darian. He was staring at a ledger on his phone, his face perfectly blank. But the wolf inside him was pacing, his heavy paws padding against the floor of my consciousness.

"The cashmere, my lady?" the sales associate asked, holding up a sweater the color of winter berries. "It just arrived from Milan."

"It’s beautiful,” I murmured, my fingers brushing the impossibly soft fabric. I glanced at the price tag discreetly tucked into the sleeve. My breath hitched. It was more than my father had spent on me. "But perhaps something a bit more... practical."

*No!* the wolf growled, a sudden, sharp spike of frustration. *No practical. She is the Luna. She gets the good things. Tell her, you stone-faced idiot. Tell her to take it.*

Darian looked up from his phone and noticed the dress in my hand. “Do you like it?”

“It’s nice.”

“Then try it on.”

I looked at the price tag again. “It’s expensive.”

He followed my gaze. “That’s what the tag says.”

I couldn’t tell whether he was teasing me. His face didn’t give much away.

“I don’t need anything extravagant,” I shuttered.

“I didn’t say you did.” He reached into his coat, took out a sleek, matte black card, and offered it to the sales associate. “Please help her find anything she likes. Don’t let the prices limit her choices.”

The associate eyes widened before she accepted the card with a polite nod. “Of course, Mr. Darkmouth.”

I stared at the card in her hand, then at Darian.

“Is that really necessary?”

“No,” he said. “It’s just convenient.”

The answer caught me off guard. I’d expected some grand declaration, or perhaps the kind of casual generosity that came with an expectation of admiration. Instead, he spoke as if it were no more important than handing over the car keys.

He turned back to the clothes. “Choose what you want. Not what you think you’re supposed to want.”

Something inside me shifted.

I touched the sleeve of the navy dress. The fabric was smooth beneath my fingertips. I thought of all the years I’d spent measuring myself against what other people needed: what my parents could afford, what Julian’s business required, what would keep the peace. Somewhere along the way, I’d stopped asking myself what I liked.

“Then I’ll try it on,” I said, smiling.

*Yes, * the wolf purred, his mental tail giving a satisfied thump. *Buy the whole store. Wrap her in silk so she never feels the cold again.*

The dress fit beautifully. So did the next one: a soft green wrap dress that made my eyes look brighter. I tried on a tailored jacket, a pair of trousers, several blouses. The sales associate brought me things I would never have chosen for myself, and I found that I liked some of them.

While I was shopping, Darian stood a short distance away, speaking with the store manager. He didn’t comment on my body or tell me what I ought to wear. One by one, I began to set aside the pieces that felt like me. Not the version of me who had spent years hiding behind plain colors and careful choices. The woman I might have been if she hadn’t been so afraid of taking up space.

When we finally left, he carried three of the heaviest bags himself, despite the store manager’s frantic offers to have them delivered.

“You don’t have to carry those,” I said.

“I’ve got them.”

*Let him carry them, * his wolf grumbled. *She shouldn’t have to carry anything.*

I lowered my eyes, hiding the beginning of a smile. It was strange to hear the wolf’s thoughts so clearly, especially when Darian’s own remained beyond my reach.It sounded protective, possessive in a way that made me wary—and, embarrassingly, a little comforted.

“You’re carrying most of the bags,” I tried again.

“That’s all right.”

I looked at the bags. They weren’t heavy enough to trouble him, but the sight of him carrying them for me felt strangely intimate. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had carried something on my behalf without being asked.

The autumn air outside was crisp. We left the mall through a side entrance, where the pavement opened onto a row of small street stalls. The contrast was immediate: luxury storefronts behind us, simple folding tables and canvas awnings ahead. People browsed inexpensive accessories and snacks while vendors called out their prices.

A familiar voice drifted over from one of the stalls.

“Surely you can lower it a little. We’re buying two.”

I turned.

Evelyn stood beside a man I recognized from my past life: Julian Vance!

My blood froze.

He looked tall, brown hair and blue eyes like I remembered, holding a cheap, plastic coat hanger, looking hunched and tired while Evelyn argues with the vendor over the price of a synthetic scarf. She stopped mid-sentence when she saw us. Her eyes dropped immediately to the bags in Darian’s hands, then to the heavy wool coat draped over my shoulders.

Her smile appeared quickly.

“Sylvia. What a surprise.”

“Evelyn.”

She gestured to Julian. “You remember my husband.”

“Of course.” I nodded to him blankly. “Julian.”

Julian seemed to notice the coldness and there was this confusion in his eyes as he smiled tightly. “It’s good to meet you.” Then he glanced at the reputable man beside me and he bowed before looking away quickly.

Of course, everyone in the city knew Alpha Darian's powerful reputation and his status as the wealthiest man. Even Julian was embarrassed to stand before such a significant man.

Evelyn looked at the bags again. “You’ve been shopping?”

“Darian wanted to take me,” I said.

“How thoughtful,” she replied, in a tone that made it unclear whether she meant it. Her next words were light, almost playful. “I suppose some people enjoy the luxury life. Personally, I prefer something simple. I don’t think a woman needs to spend a fortune on clothes just to impress people. It’s easy to forget that it’s your husband’s money you’re wasting.”

I could hear Evelyn’s thoughts, bitter and resentful beneath her smile. *He never came shopping with me. Not once. He’d always say he was busy, or that I should just pick something with the maid and send the bill. Why is he personally carrying her bags? Why does Darian look at Sylvia like her choices matter?*

Her eyes lingered on Darian’s hands, where the shopping bags hung from his fingers.

*She hasn’t even been married to him for long. What’s so special about her?*

I kept my expression neutral. Evelyn’s jealousy didn’t surprise me. Her need to compare did. She had taken Julian from me because she thought she was taking my future. Now she was watching for signs that mine might be better than hers.

“You don’t have to worry about what I spend,” I said calmly. “Darian and I can decide that between us.”

Her smile tightened. “I was only saying that a simple life can be happier than a lavish one. Of course, everyone has different priorities. Some women enjoy spending their husbands’ money.”

The vendor looked up. A few people passing by turned their heads.

I felt the old familiar pull: the urge to defend myself, to prove that I hadn’t asked Darian for anything. Evelny had a skill for making me look like a gold-digger.

"I'm the one who asked her to come shopping with me,” Darian said before I could speak. His voice was perfectly level, devoid of the anger I felt rising in my own chest. "And I'm the one who wanted to buy these things for her. If my wife's comfort offends you, that seems like a personal failing on your part."

I blinked, feeling warmth spread through my chest.

Evelyn’s face turned a mottled, ugly red. "Alpha Darian, I was just saying—"

"I don't care what you were saying," Darian interrupted. He looked down at me, his expression softening just enough for me to see the wolf’s golden eyes beneath the grey. "The car is waiting."

I moved closer to Darian and took his arm. It tensed beneath my finger but he didn't pull away. The mate bond stirred, warm and unfamiliar.

*She chose to touch us, * his wolf said, suddenly bright with delight. *Good. Stay close to her boy.*

Darian’s ear turned slightly red, and I smiled at that. “Alright husband, let's go.”

Evelyn watched us.

*She’s doing that on purpose now, her thoughts snapped. She’s trying to make me jealous.*

Perhaps I was, I didn't care. Darian and I walked away together, leaving Evelyn and Julian by the cheap stall. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to see whether she watched us leave, or whether she would turn the moment into a story for the family chat.

For the first time, I understood that not every insult needed an answer. I didn’t have to prove that I was happy. In the car, Darian placed the shopping bags beside us.

“Did her comments bother you?” he asked.

“A little.” I watched the stalls slide past the window. “Mostly because she thinks she knows what’s going on.”

“Does she?”

“No.” I paused. “Not really.”

He didn’t ask me to explain. His silence made room for me to stop there. I rested my hands in my lap and looked down at my new sleeves, their cuffs smooth and whole. The clothes were only clothes. Still, wearing something chosen because I liked it felt like a small act of defiance against the life I’d lived before.

That evening, my phone buzzed with a new message in the Thorne family group chat.

Mother: It’s been a little while since I’ve seen you both. You and your husbands should come home for a visit soon. We’ll have dinner together.

A moment later, Evelyn posted several photographs; a neat arrangement of wrapped gifts sat on a table: a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates, and a glossy shopping bag from a well-known brand. The picture was carefully composed, each item turned so its label faced the camera.

Evelyn: Julian and I have already prepared a few things for everyone. Looking forward to seeing you all.

Then another message followed.

Evelyn: Don't worry about bringing anything, Sylvia. We know how things are. Just make sure you actually show up with your husband this time—we'd hate for you to look foolish.

I stared at the words.

There it was: a velvet-gloved reminder that she believed I had nothing to offer, nothing to show, nothing to bring into the room except my husband’s name.

My thumb hovered over the screen. I could have replied with a picture of the bags. I could have mentioned the card, the stores, Darian carrying everything himself.

I did none of those things. I locked my phone and set it facedown on the table.

Darian looked up from the book he was reading. “Something wrong?”

“My mother wants us to visit,” I said. “Evelyn has already started preparing for it.”

“Do you want to go?”

I thought about the old house. The rooms where my parents had told me I was useless. The sister who had taken my place once, then tried to take my future again. Then I thought of going back with my shoulders straight and no need to beg them to see my worth.

“Yes,” I said. “I want to go.”

Darian closed his book. “All right. We’ll go together.”

No promise to defend me. No grand show of power. Just a simple answer: *together.*

I wasn’t ready to trust him completely. I wasn’t sure I was ready to trust anyone. But I could accept that small certainty for what it was.

When the time came, I would walk into my parents’ house as Sylvia Thorne—no longer the daughter who had to earn a place at the table.

And if Evelyn wanted to make the visit a competition, she would have to do it without me.