Chapter 599 I Don't Sell
The middle-aged man gave Winona a once-over, his eyes narrowing. "Who are you? What if you mess it up? Can you even afford to pay for it?"
Rebecca hadn't dealt with such arrogance in ages. "If a piece of clothing is so delicate that touching it ruins it, the store wouldn't even stock it."
She glanced at the logo, unfamiliar to her. "What kind of no-name brand are you pushing here? This store sells high-end luxury, not second-hand junk."
Rebecca usually respected her elders, but this guy's attitude was too much to handle.
"It's a brand from overseas that specializes in handmade men's suits. It's pretty niche."
Winona chimed in.
Rebecca was taken aback. "You know about this?"
"Yeah, most of Zachary's clothes are from this brand."
Rebecca's eyes widened. She looked at the garment, then at Winona. "This piece?"
Could it be Zachary's?
No wonder Winona was interested in a second-hand men's suit. Zachary wasn't broke; he wouldn't need to wear someone else's clothes.
Winona clarified, "Zachary has one similar, but men's styles often look alike. It's probably just a coincidence."
Rebecca shook her head. "No way. If it's custom-made, there can't be an identical piece. Even if they look similar, the details would be different. Why don't you take a closer look?"
The middle-aged man had been eavesdropping. "What are you trying to do? Steal it? Just because you say a few words, do the clothes become yours? If I went to the bank and said all the money was mine, I'd be rich."
He blocked their view with his body and waved them off impatiently. "If you're not buying, don't interfere."
He then turned to the store clerk, eyes gleaming. "How much is this worth? Custom-made, it must be pricey, right?"
If he could sell it, how many bets could he place?
That girl had such expensive clothes but pretended to be poor in front of him. Who knows how far she's gotten with that man? Custom-made clothes, and if they get married, there'd be cars, houses, and wedding gifts worth millions of dollars.
He was going to strike it rich. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became, his wrinkles practically dancing.
The clerk started to respond, "It is quite expensive—"
Before he could finish, a petite figure stormed in from outside and snatched the clothes away. "Not for sale. This piece is not for sale."
The middle-aged man was the first to react. His face twisted, and he grabbed the other end of the clothes. "Let go. I raised you, sent you to college, and instead of studying hard to get a good job and make money for me, you learned from your mother to hook up with random men. Now you won't even let me sell a piece of clothing. You're worthless and shameless."
His insults were crude and vulgar, as if the person in front of him wasn't his daughter but a mortal enemy.
Maeve had been subjected to such abuse since she was young and had become numb to it. But at this moment, she felt unprecedented shame, as if she had been stripped naked and thrown onto the street.
She held onto the clothes tightly. "You can sell anything else, but not this piece."
"Fine," the middle-aged man agreed quickly. "This is your boyfriend's clothes, right? Bring him home to meet me, and I won't sell it."
Maeve knew his character too well. As soon as he made this demand, she knew what he was up to and refused. "No, and he's not my boyfriend."
"Not your man, but he gives you such expensive clothes? Do you think I'm stupid? If you don't bring him here, then get out of my way and let me make money."
"I'd rather die than let you touch this piece."
"You..."
The middle-aged man raised his hand to hit her, but the clerk intervened to stop the commotion. "Sorry, we can't accept this piece. Not just our store, but no store can accept it. Custom-made items, no matter how valuable when bought, can't be resold."
The man let go of Maeve and stepped toward the clerk. "What do you mean?"
Rebecca watched the scene with great interest, completely absorbed. Even the store owner calling her several times couldn't pull her attention away, so he ended up watching too.
Maeve gently smoothed the wrinkles on the clothes, planning to leave while her father argued with the clerk. Just as she turned, Winona called out to her. "Excuse me, may I ask who gave you this piece?"
Maeve's eyes were red, her voice trembling. "I can't tell you."
Seeing her resistance, Winona quickly added, "I don't mean any harm. I just think the clothes are beautiful and want to buy one for my husband. So I wanted to ask where he got it."
Maeve hugged the clothes and left without a word.
Rebecca asked, "Should we follow her and find out?"
Winona shook her head. "Did you buy the watch?"
If the other party didn't want to talk, she couldn't force them.
Rebecca waved the gift box in her hand, looking pained. "I bought it. Over a hundred thousand dollars. Howard is such a spendthrift. If he doesn't earn this money back, I'll make sure he regrets it."
Winona laughed. "Have Mr. Lewis mentor him. One case should do it."
"Forget it. I'm afraid the Davis family will end up childless."
"You don't have to curse your own family just because you have issues with Mr. Lewis."
"If he can't find a girlfriend, how can he have kids? Isn't that childless?"
"Mr. Lewis's girlfriend is you."
"I'm thinking of dumping him. Besides, how many people are foolish enough to get themselves into trouble like I did?"
Winona fell silent.
After leaving the second-hand luxury store, the two went their separate ways.
Zachary had a meeting today and hadn't returned yet. Winona went to the walk-in closet but couldn't find the piece of clothing after searching several times.
With nothing else to do and already in the closet, she decided to pack her luggage. She didn't bring many clothes, but a 30-inch suitcase was packed full. However, it wasn't nearly enough for her long stay abroad.
That's why she hated winter.
After packing, she took the suitcase downstairs. It was still early, and with nothing to do, Winona took out paper and pens to draw.
When Zachary returned, he saw her crouched by the coffee table. "Winona, what are you doing?"
"Drawing," Winona handed him the sketch. "Look, do you think this piece is nice?"
She had drawn the piece she saw at the second-hand store, the one that looked familiar.
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