Are Cadeau Retro Items A Good Investment?

After I marry Yannick Harker, I become the laughingstock of Grisport. They call me the "Voucher Wife". Whether it is doctor's visits, meals, or even a pack of sanitary pads… I can only pay for them with vouchers that are only redeemable at designated stores. The Harkers impose an unwritten rule—every expense I incur must be approved by the female butler, Tracy Swain. The vouchers bearing her personal seal become my only source of money. On our wedding anniversary, I'm injured in a car accident and end up covered in cuts and bruises. But when I try to pay my medical bill, I'm told that every medical voucher I have is invalid. With nowhere else to turn, I ask Yannick for help, only to be met with his impatient refusal. He sneers, "You need money? Isn't the 200 thousand dollars in vouchers you get every month enough for you? Or is one of your relatives waiting in the operating room waiting to undergo surgery again? "Colette Skelton, you once put a price tag on yourself and sold yourself into the Harker family. But now, you're not even worth that much anymore." I know Yannick hates me. He hates me for demanding an extra one million dollars at our wedding. That has made him the laughingstock of the entire city for marrying a gold digger. So, Yannick cancels all my bank cards and cuts off every job opportunity I have. With those vouchers, he humiliates me openly without the slightest attempt to hide his overbearing ways. The glaring lights of the emergency room make my eyes sting until tears form. With the last valid voucher I have left, I exchange it for an abortion procedure. Later, Yannick finds me like a man possessed. With bloodshot eyes, he demands to know why. I calmly slide the remaining vouchers across the table to him. "Here's your 200 thousand dollars in vouchers. Yannick, I've settled my debt to you. From now on, we owe each other nothing."

I go to the boutique my son has invested in to pick up the gown I've ordered for a banquet. Just as I'm about to leave, the manager, Wendy Reed, stops me and says that I still owe them money. She pulls out the bill. I look down at it and see that the boutique is charging me 300 thousand dollars for their creativity, 500 thousand dollars for fabric therapy, and one million dollars for their chief designer's mental wellness. On top of other expenses, the price totals up to two million dollars. I laugh incredulously and send a message to my secretary. "Withdraw our funding from my son's company and this boutique!"

I ditched a shot at studying abroad to help my boyfriend, Gavin Censori, launch his startup. Stuck it out with him through seven brutal years. Then boom—success hit, and so did the ghosting. On Valentine's Day, he hit me with the classic "work's crazy" excuse. Instead of showing up, he had some random delivery dude drop off a box of cosmetic samples. Samples. Later that night, his secretary Rebecca popped up on my feed, flexing hard. Caption: [With a boss like this, why go home early?] Pic: A box of high-end makeup. Same brand. Hers weren't samples. I dropped a comment: [You're doing great at your sidechick job. Gold star.] Gavin called instantly, losing it. "What's your problem? She's just an employee! I bust my ass making money for you, and you're always jealous!" I laughed. Didn't even yell. Just dumped him. Seven years, and I'd never touched a dime of his. Joke's on him—his precious startup? Secretly bankrolled by me. Fast-forward three years. Business summit. He rolled in wearing a tailored suit. The second he spotted me with a bag of bottles, his smirk kicked in. "Didn't like those cosmetics I gave you, huh? Now look at you—reduced to bottle collecting?"

At the company's annual dinner, I win a three-day trip to the Marosa worth 50 thousand dollars. But when I go to claim the prize, the person in charge stuffs a cheap stuffed toy into my hands instead. The price tag shows that it is worth five dollars. At the same time, the intern, Katie Thorpe, suddenly cries out in surprise, "A three-day trip to Marosa? I'm so incredibly lucky!" I step forward to question them, but the organizer blocks my way. "Katie is Mr. Cosby's girlfriend. This prize has already been decided in advance. I suggest you do not make trouble." She looks me up and down mockingly and says, "If you anger Mr. Cosby, you better watch out. You'll lose your job in this company." Not only am I not afraid, I am even tempted to laugh in her face. I immediately make a phone call. "Grandpa, I have made up my mind. I do not want to keep struggling alongside Vincent Cosby anymore. The wedding is canceled. Withdraw your investment from his company."

While picking up my parcel from the mailroom, I run into Ivan Judd, an underprivileged student from my grade who is working part-time there. While we chat, he finds out that I'd spent 128 thousand dollars during the Black Friday sales. Dumbfounded, Ivan cries, "I've never even seen that kind of money in my entire life! And you're spending it so casually? Did your mom send you to college to study or to blow money like this?" He yanks the parcel out of my hands and physically blocks the exit. "Return it immediately! Kids like you never understand how hard it is for adults to earn money! If you're this wasteful now, what man can afford to marry you in the future?" I can't help but laugh angrily at Ivan's ridiculous attitude. I retort, "What does me spending my mom's money have anything to do with you?" "How does it not?" He looks completely justified when he says, "I'm dating your mom. Every cent you spend counts as our future marital assets!" I am shocked. Isn't Mom a lesbian? Since when did she start liking men?

My fiancee, Winona Ziegler, moves her childhood sweetheart, Caeden Gardner, who has just come back from abroad, into our future marital home. When ordering takeout, I add an eight-dollar omelette and a five-dollar caramelized onion soup to the order, but Winona deletes them all in disgust. "Caeden can't stand the smell of onions. Do you want to make him throw up? Can't you just have some plain water?" Moments later, she orders a seafood feast worth a thousand dollars for him, complete with king crabs and a premium seafood boil. Holding a glass of plain water, I watch her fuss over Caeden with endless concern. Then, my phone vibrates. My bank account has just been charged 1,000 dollars. She uses my money to spoil her childhood sweetheart, yet refuses to even buy me an omelette that costs eight dollars. Five years of love completely fall apart in that moment. This time, I don't argue or beg like I used to. I simply pick up my phone and press "Freeze Authorized User Card".