Chapter 230: Catherine Holloway Hadn't Gone Shopping in Ages

Catherine Holloway hadn't gone shopping in ages.

Today's exception was made when a boutique sales consultant called, informing her about newly arrived limited-edition handbags and custom couture. They'd reserved a private appointment slot just for her.

Unexpectedly, she ran into Paige Lawson at the store.

Since they'd crossed paths, they naturally browsed together.

This time Paige proved more considerate. She promptly swiped her card for several limited-edition bags Catherine fancied.

Though it was Grant Holloway's supplementary card, it still beat last time's measly scarf gift.

They wandered into a high-end couture boutique.

The sharp-eyed sales associate instantly recognized Catherine as a regular. "Madam, these just arrived. They'd complement your elegance perfectly."

Catherine wore a classic designer suit today, diamond necklace glinting at her throat, every gesture exuding aristocratic grace.

"Let me try these two."

Paige had just spent hundreds of thousands without flinching externally, though internally she bled. Normally she hesitated over buying a single bag.

Despite having Grant's supplementary card, to maintain her pure image she only used it for prenatal checkups. Even clothing purchases required deliberation.

Those designer bags in the villa's walk-in closet? Grant had explicitly forbidden her from touching them.

Catherine shot her a sidelong glance.

She saw right through the girl's act.

Petty.

Too timid to spend freely, coveting things yet pretending otherwise. What false purity.

Catherine couldn't be bothered. With a careless wave: "Pick whatever you like."

Paige feigned refusal: "No need, Auntie..."

"Suit yourself." Catherine's tone turned frosty.

Paige froze.

This wasn't how she'd imagined the interaction.

Just then, a salesgirl's delighted voice carried from the entrance: "Madam Bennett! We were about to deliver the new collection for your selection!"

Catherine's pulse jumped. She turned to see Miriam Caldwell.

Miriam wore a pale qipao with pearl shawl, bamboo-handled bag dangling from her wrist—an image of refined elegance.

Though past forty, meticulous upkeep made her appear barely thirty. Among Boston's elite socialites, Miriam always commanded attention.

Catherine particularly loathed sharing spaces with her.

"Madam Bennett, long time no see." Catherine forced a smile.

Miriam gave a faint nod, her gaze sliding past to beckon behind her: "Clara, come here."

Her voice instantly softened eight degrees.