Chapter 5 Digging Deeper
The shop fell silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
The other staff cast sympathetic glances at the clerk, whose face had turned an ugly shade of red. But then the manager stepped in, shooting her a pointed look—urging her to play along. After all, the price tag on that gown wasn't something to scoff at.
Mason Reed stood unfazed, his sharp features betraying no warmth, the faint smirk on his lips never reaching his eyes.
Clara Bennett instinctively tightened her grip on his hand.
"Forget it, let's not buy it," she whispered to him. "It's so expensive, and we won't even use it later..."
"Swipe the card," Mason Reed said, his voice cold and firm. "No PIN needed."
In the end, it took both the manager and the designer stepping in to smooth things over.
Mason Reed lingered outside, smoking a cigarette, while Clara Bennett stayed inside to be measured.
This time, no one dared sneer or mock her.
The clerk from earlier stood off to the side, chastised by the manager, barely moving a muscle.
The designer showered her with compliments about her figure, and even the manager treated her like royalty, fetching tea and hovering attentively.
By the time they finally left the shop, Clara Bennett was quiet and subdued on the ride back.
That dress had cost over thirty thousand dollars...
She bit her lip, glancing at the man beside her. He, on the other hand, seemed utterly unaffected—calm as an iceberg.
"Mason," she said after holding it in for a while, unable to keep silent any longer, "I think we need to talk."
Mason Reed paused, turning to face her.
The petite woman stared up at him earnestly, her dark, grape-like eyes flickering, her lips pressed into a determined line.
"Back there... you were too impulsive."
He frowned. "What?"
"At the dress shop," she explained. "It didn't have to escalate like that... Why did you insist on proving a point and buying that gown? Thirty thousand dollars—do you know how long that could last us?"
He genuinely didn't know. In his past life, that amount wouldn't have covered a single meal.
Clara Bennett stole a glance at him, but his chiseled face remained expressionless.
"I... I'm not blaming you," she softened her tone. "I just mean, we're married now. We have to think about our future. I know you wanted to stand up for me, but sometimes you've got to let things slide. There are so many places we'll need money at home..."
Home?
For some reason, that word made the corner of Mason Reed's mouth twitch upward.
"And my dowry hasn't come through yet," she continued. "When it does, we'll need it for other things. We can't just throw money around like that."
Her voice trailed off, worry creasing her brow as she thought of her mother in the hospital and her brother waiting for living expenses. But she couldn't let Mason Reed know about that—in his eyes, she was supposed to be Evelyn Bennett.
"Throw money around?" he echoed, a hint of amusement coloring his low voice. "Aren't you a Bennett heiress? Why do you act like you're afraid to spend a dime?"
Clara Bennett's eyes widened, her heart pounding like a drum. She quickly changed the subject. "Are you thirsty? I'll grab us some iced tea."
With that, she darted off toward a nearby café.
Mason Reed watched her small, flustered figure retreat, a soft chuckle escaping him. Then his phone buzzed. Seeing the number on the screen, the smile vanished, his expression hardening.
"How's it going?" he answered.
"Third Master," the voice on the other end whispered, "we've dug up most of it. The day your private plane went down, someone tampered with it. We're short on hard evidence, but it lines up with the person you suspected."
"Good," Mason Reed said, his tone cutting like ice. "Keep digging."
"Yes, sir. But... Third Master, how long are you planning to stay in that Willow Creek village? Sure you don't want to head back to Central City?"