The Stranger I Married-Chapter 47: Who is he?

Clara turned slightly as she caught movement from the corner of her eye. A group of boutique staff walked swiftly past her, arms laden with an armory of luxurious gowns in protective garment bags, shoes boxed in sleek designer packaging, and a velvet tray displaying glittering jewelry. The collection wasn’t just exquisite—it was exclusive, the kind reserved for private showcases or red-carpet clients.

Her eyes narrowed.

One piece, in particular, caught her attention: an emerald necklace resting in the center of the tray like a crown jewel. The stones were deep green, cut in perfect symmetry, set in a delicate vine of platinum. It would match her gown perfectly—a strapless emerald silk creation fitted to her curves and already causing Adrian to take endless photos for her social feed.

Clara’s heels clicked across the marble floor as she approached the closest attendant. freewёbnoνel.com

"Excuse me," she said, voice calm but authoritative. "That necklace—bring it here. I want to see it up close."

The young staff member stopped, clearly startled. She glanced between Clara and the tray, hesitating.

"I’m sorry, ma’am, but that piece is reserved for a VIP appointment," the staffer said apologetically. "It’s not currently available for general browsing."

Clara blinked.

Then she laughed. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, stepping forward with a condescending smile. "I am the VIP. Bring me the necklace. I doubt anyone in this store ranks higher than Adrian and me."

The attendant gave a small bow. "My sincerest apologies, but this order was placed ahead of time by one of our most exclusive clients. We’ve been preparing for this visit for days. The items are strictly pre-selected."

Clara’s eyes narrowed. "Who is this client?"

"I’m afraid I can’t disclose that," the attendant replied politely, then turned to continue walking.

Clara reached out and caught her wrist—not hard, but enough to make her point. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

The attendant stiffened.

"My name is Clara Marquez. And my fiancé is Adrian Richards—the Adrian Richards" she added, voice rising slightly, "whose company holds stock in three of your suppliers. You’re telling me that necklace is off-limits to me?"

The woman looked genuinely uncomfortable now but kept her voice steady. "I understand, Miss Marquez. But we were given explicit instructions by the client’s team. I truly can’t override them."

Clara’s jaw clenched, humiliation burning beneath her skin.

She had walked into this boutique expecting service fit for royalty. Her family—the Marquez—had been part of high society for decades. Her fiancé’s wealth dwarfed that of most tech billionaires. And yet some invisible customer was being treated like they owned the entire place?

The staff member bowed slightly. "If you’ll excuse me, I need to deliver these."

And just like that, she turned and walked away.

Clara stood frozen, fuming.

Her friend finally looked up from her phone. "What’s going on?"

Clara spun on her heel. "They refused to show me the necklace."

Her friend blinked. "What?"

"They said it was for some VIP. Wouldn’t even tell me who. Like I’m some nobody off the street."

Her expression darkened slightly. "Do they know who you are?"

"Oh, they know," Clara snapped. "They just don’t care."

Fueled by indignation, Clara marched toward the front of the boutique, bypassing the makeup counters and the dressing rooms until she reached the reception desk. The manager—an older man with graying hair and a well-pressed suit—looked up the moment he saw her.

"Miss Marquez," he said, already smiling. "Is everything to your satisfaction today?"

"No," she said bluntly. "Your staff just insulted me. I asked to see a necklace—one that would go perfectly with my gown, mind you—and they refused. Apparently, it’s been ’reserved’ for someone else. Someone more important than me. Do you know who I am?"

The manager’s smile faltered. He exhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully. "I understand, Miss. And I deeply apologize for any offense caused. You are a valued client."

"But not as valued as your mystery VIP," Clara spat.

He gave a small bow of his head. "This particular client has a long-standing relationship with the brand. He... prefers discretion. But I can assure you, it is not meant as disrespect."

"Discretion?" Clara repeated, incredulous. "He won’t even show his face, and yet you’re bending over backwards for him?"

The manager remained calm. "We are under contractual obligation to meet his expectations. His team reached out weeks ago. Security protocols were issued. I’m afraid even I was given limited information."

Clara stared at him in disbelief. "So what—you just take orders blindly from someone you don’t even know?"

His expression hardened slightly. "What I can tell you is that the man currently in our VIP suite is someone we simply cannot afford to offend. I hope you understand. We would be happy to compensate you. A discount on any item of your choice, perhaps a complimentary pair of heels to match your gown?"

Clara bristled. "A pair of shoes?"

The idea that anyone could walk into a room and be granted more authority than her—her—felt like a slap to the face. She had been raised with wealth and power. She was raised to expect the world to bend.

Yet today, it hadn’t.

And it burned.

"...Who is he?" she asked again, quieter this time.

The manager merely offered a tight smile. "Confidential, ma’am."

Clara returned to her seat beside Adrian in a daze. Her mood soured, the excitement of her fitting now replaced with sharp annoyance and growing curiosity.

"What happened?" Her friend asked.

"They wouldn’t even tell me who it is," Clara muttered. "But they said they couldn’t afford to offend him."

Her eyes lit with curiosity. "Who the hell could be that important?"

Clara didn’t answer right away. She stared back down the hallway the staff had disappeared into.

Whoever this man was... he had her boutique wrapped around his finger. He had wealth, power, and secrecy. Even the manager spoke his name like a warning.

Clara wasn’t just angry now—she was intrigued.

Who was this man hiding behind velvet curtains and whispered orders?

And why did she get the feeling he was about to disrupt everything?