Her face turned cold. "This is your fault. You just had to hesitate."
"You don't love me enough. This was a test. If you hadn't hesitated, you would have gotten it."
It was the first time Sophia had gotten mad since we got together. She left in a huff.
And honestly? What she said made sense. I'd overthought it and missed my chance.
I pulled out my phone and dialed.
"Has the limited-edition LV bag arrived? Pull out a black one for me."
That night, I brought the bag and asked her out.
In the coffee shop, we sat facing each other. She kept her head turned away, tear tracks still visible on her cheeks.
"John Weiss, do you think I'm with you for your family's savings?"
"I'm telling you—I, Sophia Finch, am not that desperate. I can afford that bag myself. I just wanted to see your attitude!"
"Someone like me—what kind of rich guy couldn't I get? Why would I be so devoted to you?"
She started crying again.
I quickly opened the gift box and pushed the bag toward her.
"Sophie, don't be upset. I got it."
She stared at the bag, eyes going wide.
She picked it up, and you could tell she loved it.
Then she smiled through her tears. "You can't even find this online anymore. How did you get one?"
"This bag is so rare—you definitely paid extra, right?"
Seeing that she'd forgiven me, I said something cheesy for once.
"You deserve the best."
That night, we talked for hours.
From the bag to houses. In everything she said, she was thinking of me.
She said if a new place was too expensive when we got married, we could start with a secondhand house.
Seeing her consider my situation like that, I felt genuinely happy.
We talked until eleven before I took her home.
But the next day, while I was at work, Sophia showed up downstairs.
I went down in a good mood—but her face was ice-cold.
Confused, I asked what was wrong.
"John Weiss, let's break up. I really can't stand you anymore!"
I was stunned. We'd been so happy last night. Why break up now?
My mind raced. Did she think the bag was fake? Given what she knew about my "status," maybe she doubted it was real.
Should I come clean? Tell her that getting this bag was nothing for someone like me?
I asked carefully: "Sophie, why break up? Is it the color of the bag? I can exchange it."
But she twisted my words.
"I bring up breaking up and you bring up the bag? Are you trying to get it back?"
"You're disgusting."
She stormed off without looking back. She never explained why.
I really liked her. After this, I couldn't focus on work at all.
I called in my assistant and asked him to look into whether Sophia had run into any trouble recently.
He worked fast. He didn't know about my relationship with her.
He said she hadn't run into any trouble—but her social circle abroad was extremely complicated.
