Charged for a Wife I Never Married Chapter 2

Hunter paused for a beat. "Client confidentiality protocols prevent us from disclosing third-party personal details."

I let out a cold laugh. "She’s supposedly my legal spouse, yet you can’t tell me her name?"

A few more shoppers drifted over, pretending to browse the adjacent display cases while hanging on every word. Luxury boutiques are quiet places; when a scandal breaks, nobody yells. They just stand around and peel your dignity away with their eyes.

Hunter lowered his voice just enough to create the illusion of intimacy, while ensuring every syllable carried across the sales floor. "Mr. Miller, we understand that men want to save face in front of company. But the merchandise is already locked in our international ledger. Denying it in front of this young lady doesn't absolve you of the boutique's operational costs."

Sadie suddenly spoke up, her voice sharp and steady. "Watch how you speak to him."

Hunter glanced at her, offering a condescending grimace. "Miss, we're only looking out for you. In these kinds of situations, it's better to see the truth early so you don't end up on the losing side."

A flare of white-hot anger surged against my ribs. But I didn't shout. I’ve worked in banking risk assessment for six years; I know better than anyone that rage never wins an audit. Paper trails and verifiable facts do.

I set my phone flat on the counter, keeping the camera pointed straight at Hunter.

"Mr. Hayes, let's establish the store's official position on record," I said calmly.

"Mrs. Miller reserved a limited-edition piece yesterday evening, with the agreement that you would clear the balance upon arrival today," Hunter replied smoothly.

"The exact amount?"

"A final balance of fifty-six thousand eight hundred dollars."

"And upon payment, what are you delivering?"

"The merchandise, of course."

"The physical item is on the premises right now?"

Hunter's eyes twitched slightly. "It is within our secure distribution network."

I smiled thinly. "Don't play semantic games with me. My question is simple: if I pay fifty-six thousand eight hundred dollars right now, do I walk out of this store with the bag today?"

He glanced at the growing crowd of wealthy patrons watching him. His pride clearly wouldn't let him back down. "Yes."

"And the full documentation—the itemized tax invoice, the third-party certificate of authenticity, the customs import declarations, and the purchase agreement—will all be handed over concurrently?"

Hunter let out an impatient sigh. "Mr. Miller, we have operated as an elite luxury concept store for years. Standard compliance documents are naturally part of every high-tier delivery."

"Then confirm it one more time."

"Confirm what?"

I enunciated every syllable: "Confirm that once I execute a payment of fifty-six thousand eight hundred dollars, this store will deliver the designated handbag and all associated provenance paperwork on the spot, today. Correct?"

Hunter stared at me. He was calculating, likely assuming I was backed into a corner, terrified of looking cheap or guilty in front of Sadie, and preparing to eat the loss to save face.

Gia gave him a subtle, encouraging nod from behind the register.

Hunter finally nodded. "Correct."

"Speak up, please. Make sure the microphone picks it up clearly."

His jaw tightened, but he projected his voice: "Upon payment of the remaining balance, this boutique will complete full physical delivery of the item today."

Sadie grabbed my sleeve, her voice trembling with anxiety. "Garrett, what are you doing? Stop."

I met her eyes. "Locking down the chain of custody."

I reached into my wallet and pulled out my primary credit card.

A visible wave of relief washed over both Hunter and Gia. In that fraction of a second, their triumphant smirks confirmed everything: they truly believed they had successfully bullied another mark into submission.

Gia immediately slid the wireless POS terminal across the marble. "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Miller."

I didn't tap the card right away. I leaned over and carefully read the registered merchant ID displayed on the terminal screen:

Merchant Name: Hyperion Consulting Group LLC.

I felt a dark humor settle in my chest. A boutique claiming to sell an ultra-rare European luxury piece was routing a fifty-thousand-dollar retail swipe through an obscure commercial consulting LLC. Quite the creative corporate structure.

I inserted the chip and entered my PIN.

Transaction Approved.

The machine whirred, spitting out a long, crisp paper receipt.

I picked up the slip, held it directly in front of my phone lens, and read the timestamp aloud. "It is currently 3:14 PM. Hyperion Consulting Group LLC has processed a charge of $56,800.00 to my account. Store Director Hunter Hayes has formally agreed on camera to deliver the specified goods and legal documentation immediately."

Hunter’s face shifted, the smugness beginning to crack.

I pressed the receipt flat against the glass counter. "The funds are cleared. Produce the bag."