The gss doors of Vault & Veil slid open with a hushed whisper, revealing a world of polished marble, soft ambient lighting, and boutiques whose names Britney had only ever seen in celebrity magazines. Her fingers trembled slightly at her sides as she stepped inside, fnked by Sara, Maya, and Alicia—three women who moved through this gilded byrinth like they owned it.
"Rex," Alicia murmured, her lips curling in amusement as she noticed Britney’s wide-eyed stare. "You look like a rabbit in a wolf den."
Maya chuckled, looping an arm through Britney’s with deceptive sweetness. "Don’t worry, darling. Tonight, you’re the wolf."
The boutique staff recognized Hez’s women instantly. Their postures straightened, their smiles sharpened—they knew a spending spree when they saw one.
A sleek, silver-cd consultant approached, her gaze flickering over Britney’s rented gym wear before settling on the trio beside her. "Ladies," she purred. "Shall we begin?"
Sara leaned in, her voice low. "Pick anything. Everything. Just remember—Hez doesn’t like wasted potential."
Britney’s breath hitched. Sixty thousand dolrs. In one night.
Her first stop was the racks of designer sportswear—shimmering leggings, bras that cost more than her old rent, jackets lined with some impossibly soft fabric she couldn’t name.
"This one," she said, fingers brushing a cropped hoodie with a trembling touch.
Maya plucked it off the rack and tossed it to an attendant without gncing at the price. "And the matching set. In every color."
Britney’s stomach flipped.
As they moved to handbags, Alicia lingered beside Britney, her voice a velvet warning. "Hez likes gratitude. But he loves ambition. The question is—what are you really after?"
Britney met her gaze, the fear in her chest hardening into something sharper. "The same thing you were, once."
Alicia’s smile was knife-edged. "Good answer."
By the time they reached the shoe salon, Britney’s nerves had burned away, repced by a heady rush of power. She pointed. "Those. And those. And—"
"All of them," Sara finished for her, waving a hand. "He’ll want to see you in heels, too."
Footwear – From Gym Floors to Gilded Halls
Indoor Sport Shoes:
1,200 – Nike x Louis Vuitton Air Force 1s (custom monogrammed)
950 – Balenciaga Speed 3.0 (for that sleek, high-tech look)
1,800 – Golden Goose "Destroyed" Sneakers (because even her gym shoes had to look expensive)
High Heels:
2,400 – Christian Louboutin So Kate (120mm, blood-red soles)
1,900 – Jimmy Choo Romy (for "casual" elegance)
3,000 – Manolo Bhnik Hangisi (the iconic jeweled buckle)
Sandals:
1,600 – Hermès Oran (because every kept woman owned a pair)
1,100 – Gucci Princetown (fur-lined, for lounging in Hez’s penthouse)
Total Footwear Damage: ~14,000
Clothing – From Gym Rat to Goddess
Indoor Gym Wear:
1,500 – Alo Yoga "Head-to-Toe" Set (cashmere-lined, because cotton was for peasants)
2,200 – Lululemon x Roksanda Colboration (limited-edition, architectural cuts)
Pajamas & Loungewear:
1,800 – La Per Silk PJ Set (because sleeping should feel like a luxury ad)
1,200 – Frette Robe (the same brand used in five-star hotels)
Casual Outdoor Attire:
2,500 – The Row Oversized Coat (effortless billionaire vibes)
1,600 – Acne Studios Jeans (the perfect "I woke up like this" fit)
Dresses:
3,500 – Saint Laurent LBD (for when Hez wanted to show her off)
4,200 – Versace Mini Dress (gold accents, because subtlety was overrated)
Office Attire (Just in Case):
2,800 – Prada Power Suit (because even mistresses needed paperwork sometimes)
Total Clothing Damage: ~21,300
Bags – The Ultimate Status Symbols
Indoor Gym Bag:
1,900 – Goyard St. Louis Tote (because even her sweaty clothes deserved designer transport)
Designer Bags:
12,000 – Chanel Cssic Fp (Medium, Caviar Leather)
8,500 – Bottega Veneta Cassette (for when she wanted to look "understated")
Total Bag Damage: ~22,400
Lingerie & Swimwear – The Secret Arsenal
Bikinis:
1,400 – Zimmermann Floral Bikini (for yacht trips she hadn’t been invited to yet)
1,800 – Eres Cut-Out One-Piece (because sometimes, less was more)
Bras & Underwear:
2,600 – La Per "Bck Label" Set (because even her underwear had to scream money)
1,200 – Agent Provocateur Lace Teddy (for when Hez wanted a "private training session")
Total Lingerie Damage: ~7,000
Toiletries – Even Her Toothpaste Was Luxury
200 – Marvis "Jasmine Mint" Toothpaste (because Colgate was beneath her now)
350 – La Mer The Moisturizing Soft Cream (if her skin wasn’t fwless, what was the point?)
450 – Byredo "Bal d’Afrique" Perfume (the scent of a woman who’d never scrub a toilet again)
180 – Aesop Shampoo & Conditioner (her hair would now smell like a high-end spa)
Total Toiletries Damage: ~1,180
The Final Tally – 59,880
As the attendants packed her purchases into sleek bck boxes, Britney’s hands trembled—not from guilt, but from the sheer high of it all.
Maya smirked, handing her a champagne flute. "Welcome to the good life, sweetheart."
Alicia checked her watch. "Now, let’s see if Hez thinks you’re worth it."
From the dim glow of his hospital room’s monitors, Hez watched the live feed Maya streamed directly to his phone. The numbers flickered, then settled—Familiarity: 5.
A slow smirk curled on his lips.
Perfect.
The moment the 60,000 transaction finalized, his phone buzzed—a notification from an untraceable account.
+120,000 (Refund: 2x Expenditure)
Current Money: 5,760,000
He exhaled, satisfied. Another fwless execution. The rules never failed:
Spend on a woman with Familiarity ≥ 1.
Get double back.
Profit.
And Britney? She had barely even met him yet.
As the shopping spree unfolded, Hez’s dashboard updated in real-time.
Familiarity: 5 → 35
Alicia’s voice crackled through the live feed, amused. "She’s picking out a La Per set now. Think she’s imagining you peeling it off her?"
Hez didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The numbers said everything.
Britney’s Familiarity had skyrocketed not because of him, but because of what he represented—money, power, a golden ticket. And that was fine.
The gss doors of Vault & Veil slid open, revealing a spectacle that made even the jaded elite shoppers pause—four Ferrari sports cars, gleaming under the valet lights like predatory beasts, each idling with a low, impatient growl.
A dozen uniformed attendants streamed out, arms den with glossy bck shopping bags, garment bags, and velvet-lined boxes—each containing a piece of Britney’s 60,000 transformation. The staff moved with practiced efficiency, loading the purchases into the trunks and passenger seats of the Ferraris as if handling sacred artifacts.
Maya, Lena, Alicia, and Sara stood beside their respective cars—four queens of Hez’s empire, each watching Britney with varying degrees of amusement and assessment.
Britney hesitated for only a second before striding toward Sara’s Ferrari. The choice wasn’t random—Sara had been the most reserved, the most unreadable during the shopping spree. If Britney wanted to climb, she needed to understand the hierarchy.
Sara arched a brow as Britney slid into the passenger seat, the buttery leather embracing her like a lover.
“Comfortable?” Sara asked, her tone cool.
Britney ran a hand over the dashboard, her heart pounding. “I could get used to this.”
Sara’s lips twitched—not quite a smile. “That’s the idea.”
The engine roared to life, vibrating through Britney’s bones.
As the Ferraris pulled away in formation, Britney’s initial shopping euphoria had faded—only to be repced by something sharper, more intoxicating.
She was in a Ferrari.
She was wearing 3,000 worth of new clothes.
And this was just the beginning.
She gnced at Sara’s profile, the woman’s grip rexed on the steering wheel, her gaze fixed ahead.
“So,” Britney ventured, “how long did it take for you to get your own Ferrari?”
Sara’s knuckles whitened imperceptibly. “Longer than a day.”
A loaded silence.
Then—Sara smirked. “But then again, I wasn’t just a gold digger.”
Britney’s pulse spiked. Was that a challenge? A warning?
She leaned back, feigning nonchance. “Guess I’ll have to prove I’m more, then.”
Sara’s only response was to press the accelerator harder.
Unseen by either woman, Hez’s screen flickered in the hospital room:
[Britney Ivanov - Familiarity: 35 → 38]
The Ferrari ride had triggered another bump.
He exhaled, satisfied.
