Luxury Spite

The sun was already high, warm, and practically daring me to storm out and make someone miserable. Perfect. I left the mansion with one goal: coffee first, chaos later.

The breakfast café was small but cozy, the kind of place that served proper coffee and toast without any judgment. I slid into a corner seat, pulled out my phone, and let myself relax for the first time all morning. The barista brought my cappuccino with a delicate swirl of foam and a slice of toast with butter melting just so. I savored every bite, feeling the caffeine and carbs resurrect me from the wedding-day hangover of etiquette and forced smiles.

By the time I was done, I was buzzing with energy, the kind of energy that comes when you realize you’re about to do exactly what you want, consequences be damned. I slipped my shades on and made my way to the mall, where my best friend was waiting, practically bouncing in place.

“Finally!” she cried. “I thought I’d have to come storm the mansion and drag you out myself.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I said, smirking. “But don’t worry. I’ve already got a plan for teaching a few people exactly who they married.”

Her eyes widened. “You're not about to..." She trails off make punching gestures.

“Relax,” I interrupted, “I’m only going to spite a few people.”

"Oh something juicy happened, didn't it?"

We entered the first store, a sea of luxury handbags, shoes, and perfume. My friend darts to the racks like a kid on Christmas morning, tossing me items she thought I’d love. I let her, calmly recounting the highlights of my very dramatic very eventful morning well, technically, and the previous night as well. The wedding, the palace confrontation, the breakfast incident with Jade… all of it.

“Can you believe they didn't have cereal or noodles or bread,” I said, leaning in conspiratorially as she tried on a sparkling cocktail dress,

“You're kidding right?" She says whipping her head around so fast I worried it might come off.

"Does he think he leaves type of billionaire w******l?"

"My point exactly."

"By the way you have to get that dress"

Once we're done we make our way to the counter to pay.

I pull out a card to pay and her jaw dropped.

“Wait—since when do you have a black card?”

I flashed her a grin, flipping it in my hands. “Oh, did I say I was paying? Technically, yes I am paying. Just… not with my money.”

At this her grin widens.

Swipe. A few million dollars evaporated into designer bliss. My friend’s eyes nearly popped out.

“You’re insane!” she whispered, still clutching a velvet clutch.

“Absolutely insane!”

“Do you think I care?” I said, grinning like a cat.

“Do you think I care?”

Bag after bag, perfume after perfume, the spree continued. I was narrating every little absurdity of my morning with exaggerated details between swipes.

“So there I was, standing in the parlor, staring at Jade like she had the audacity to think she owned the place, and she—”

“Stop! That’s perfect,” my friend interrupted, practically bouncing.

“Do it. Teach these assholes a lesson. Show them who’s boss.”

We moved from store to store, a parade of purchases and playful commentary.

Meanwhile, somewhere back at the mansion, Zions phone buzzed. A notification. Then another. And another.

Jade picked it up Incase it was an important client texting but what she sees almost has her leaping out of her skin.

Her scream of disbelief echoed across the marble halls.

“Gerald! Andrew! Come quick! Someone stop her!”

Back in the mall, I didn’t even flinch. I knew exactly what was happening at home. The audacity, the panic, the humiliation, I could practically taste it.

By the time we finished our spree, bags swinging, receipts piling up, I noticed the grand finale: Jade herself storming the mall, phone in hand, face red, yelling, waving her arms.

“How dare you use my man’s card?!” she screeched, stomping toward me like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

I raised an eyebrow, leaned back in the chair I’d claimed for maximum visibility, and slowly pulled my wedding card from my purse. I flipped it open, angled it perfectly so she could see, and held it up like a trophy.

“Since when,” I asked sweetly, eyes glinting with sarcasm, “is being a leeching mistress something to be proud of?”

Her mouth opened, probably to sputter another shrill complaint, but all I did was smirk and tilt my head toward the bag mountain at my feet. Gucci, Prada, Chanel… enough to buy an entire boutique if you had the nerve.

“Oh, and one more thing,” I added, mock-polite, “all of this? Technically, it’s My husband’s contribution to my shopping spree. You’re welcome.”

People in the surrounding shops were staring now, cameras clicking, some filming. My friend nudged me, practically vibrating with glee. “You’re… you’re insane. Absolutely brilliant!”

“Insane? No,” I said, leaning back, swishing a designer scarf in the air like a sword. “Strategic. Tactical. Educational.”

Jade’s face twisted further, and she stomped toward me like she could erase the receipts with sheer rage. I laughed softly, pulling out another bag and setting it in her path.

“Careful,” I said, voice dripping with mock menace. “One more step and you’ll learn why they call me the Mountain Tiger. And trust me, I don’t do gentle.”

Her fingers ball into fists and tighten as she gets flashbacks on the slap Zion had received the previous night. She sputtered, she waved her phone, she probably wanted to scream some more but the mall crowd was now invested. They stared, whispered, pointed, some clearly recording the spectacle.

In the end she could only screech

"Zion won't let you get away with this" before stomping away.

I leaned back, eyes scanning the chaos, the thrill of victory coursing through me. My friend nudged me again. “Best. Day. Ever.”

I smirked, satisfied.

“Oh, darling. This is just the warm-up. Let’s see how the rest of the day unfolds.”

And with that, I settled into my throne of shopping bags, knowing exactly how deliciously scandalous this little shopping spree had turned out to be.