Harmony Mall glowed like a palace of glass and chrome, its lights reflecting in slick ribbons across the polished floors.
Eleanor walked with unhurried elegance, her heels tapping a confident rhythm that echoed down the corridor.
Mateo trailed behind her.
Eleanor stopped at the entrance of a luxury bag boutique.
The interior was a quiet kingdom of velvet displays and spotlit shelves, each handbag perched like a prize.
She glided inside, gaze drifting from one piece to another, and her lips tilted with a private smile.
In the original "wife-chasing" arc, Mateo bought anything I glanced at. One look and... poof... paid in full.
'Let's see if the script still obeys me.'
She "accidentally" lingered on a structured leather tote.
Then, as if bored, she looked away. She peeked at a second bag, a luminous taupe satchel, and then at a third, a limited edition crossbody with a rare finish. Each time she drifted on, as though indifferent.
