Gabriel’s POV
While headed home, I tried to steady my thoughts. Frustration gnawed at me, but one thing was clear—I couldn’t risk showing up without the bag her ladyship at home demanded.
I turned into a fashion store, the bright lights doing nothing to ease the weight pressing on my chest like a boulder chained to my soul, dragging me deeper into the abyss of my own despair.
“Can I help you?” the salesperson asked, their smile overly practiced.
“I need a designer bag,” I replied curtly.
“This one costs 10 grand, sir,” they said, holding up a sleek, branded piece.
My stomach churned. Ten thousand dollars—for a bag. I’d already scoured the entire store, and this was the cheapest option that fit the profile. There was no escaping it.
“I’ll take it,” I said, the words tasting bitter in
