Chapter 2185

Inside the boutique’s soft lighting, Chelsea held up her phone, displaying a photo of the ruined jacket.
“Do you still have this piece in stock?” she asked the sales associate, her voice low with urgency.

The associate studied the image, then nodded. “We do. But that garment can’t be machine-washed. Why on earth did you wash it?”

Guilt prickled sharply at the back of Chelsea’s neck.

“I—I didn’t know,” she murmured.

The associate sighed. “It’s written clearly on the care label. Why didn’t you check? And this jacket costs over a hundred thousand. What a terrible waste.”

Chelsea’s eyes widened. “Over a hundred thousand?”

In the past, that number wouldn’t have fazed her. Her daily allowance alone easily exceeded it. But now, she had only a few tens of thousands left in her account, and every dollar suddenly felt precious.

Jason had pressed money into her hands, but she had poured most of it back into his business venture, unwilling to spend recklessly.

The associate nodded again. “Exactly. Such a pity. Shall I reserve a new one for you?”

Chelsea wanted to say yes—but her bank balance whispered a firm no. Besides, any purchase she made would ultimately come out of Jason’s pocket, and that didn’t sit right with her.

Even dinner had been paid for with his money. And now she had ruined his favorite suit—one he clearly valued. She was sure the loss hurt him more than he let on.

“Let me think about it,” she said, turning as if the matter were settled.

After only a few steps, she hesitated, then turned back, anxiety tugging at her chest.
“Could you please reserve the jacket for me first? I’ll come back later to buy it.”

Jason wasn’t someone who splurged casually. If he had invested in that suit, it meant he needed it for something important. Now she’d destroyed it, and the thought of disappointing him twisted painfully inside her.

Standing on the sidewalk, Chelsea wrestled with indecision before pulling out her phone and calling Cecilia.

“Cecilia, could you lend me a hundred thousand? Actually… make it two hundred thousand, just to be safe,” she said. If she borrowed only a hundred thousand, the little money she had left would still be gone anyway—so she might as well borrow more.

Cecilia sounded surprised, but she didn’t hesitate.
“Of course. I’ll transfer it right now.”

After sending the money, she couldn’t help asking, “What happened? Why are you borrowing money all of a sudden?”

“It’s a long story…” Chelsea said, her breath fogging in the cold night air. “My parents kicked me out, froze all my cards, and told me to fend for myself.”

Cecilia fell silent, the situation snapping into focus. She immediately understood—Kingston and Phoebe were trying to force their daughter to experience hardship so she’d come running back home.

“Did Jason not give you any money?” she asked, her tone gentle but probing.

Cecilia didn’t believe a boyfriend existed just to bankroll a girlfriend’s life. Still, in moments like this, she felt that a decent man should at least step up.

“He did,” Chelsea admitted.

Then she told Cecilia about the money Jason had given her—and how, in one careless moment, she had ruined the suit he cherished.

“I meant well, but I only made things worse,” Chelsea said quietly. “I want to replace it for him.”

Cecilia let out a long, sympathetic sigh. “Chelsea, you’ve chosen a hard road.”

“Maybe,” Chelsea replied lightly, despite the wind whipping around her. “But it’s just another chapter in life, right? Hardship doesn’t scare me. I just don’t want to become his burden.”

Hearing that, Cecilia felt a sudden surge of admiration. If I were a man, I’d marry her myself.

For an only child—especially a pampered heiress—this kind of thoughtfulness was rare.

“Don’t overthink it,” Cecilia said sincerely. “If he blows up over a single suit, then his feelings were never that deep to begin with—and you’d have dodged a bullet.”

Chelsea stood there in the biting wind, a smile lifting her cheeks, hope glowing warmer than any streetlight around her.

“I know,” she said softly. “And don’t worry, Cecilia. He isn’t mad. He’s even trying to hide it from me.”