Chapter 8

Vincent didn't come home until late that night. "Darling, look what I got you," he called out proudly the moment he walked in, holding up a bright orange shopping bag like it was something priceless. Inside was a set of Hermès dinnerware. "You've always loved cooking, and I love everything you make. So I got these just for you," he added. I smiled and thanked him, trying to sound touched. "It's way too expensive. Don't buy such things again, okay?" He reached out and gently ruffled my hair. "I don't care about the money. You've sacrificed so much for me, Ali. You deserve the best." For a moment, I almost believed he meant it. How could someone fake love so convincingly—even with eyes that held nothing? Seeing I wasn't angry anymore, Vincent let out a relieved sigh and kissed my forehead before heading off to change clothes. At the sight of the dinnerware set in front of me, a wave of nausea rose in my chest. This wasn't a romantic gift. He only bought this set to meet the purc