When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2081

Nathaniel took in the way little Jonathan stepped forward to shield the nervous clerk and decided to let the matter drop, choosing mercy over further inquiry.

“I trust nothing like this will ever happen again,” Nathaniel said, his voice quiet yet carrying the weight of judgment through the boutique's high-ceilinged hush.

“Y-Yes, absolutely,” Elodie blurted, nodding so hard the tight bun at the back of her head trembled.

Only once Nathaniel turned away did Elodie finally breathe. Relief spread through her limbs like warm water, leaving her almost dizzy.

A moment ago, her fate had dangled on someone else's whim. Grateful, she offered a quick, thankful glance first to Jonathan and then to Ivy.

If Ivy hadn't stepped between danger and the child, the day would have ended in chaos or worse.

Ivy turned to Jonathan, her posture unexpectedly shy. “Thank you,” she murmured, sincerity softening every line of her face.

Jonathan answered with a small, practiced smile—courteous, almost grown-up, impossibly composed for a boy his size.

“Ms. Ivy, I should be the one thanking you,” he replied, voice clear as a bell.

With that, Jonathan slipped a hand into the miniature pocket of his blazer and drew out a sleek matte card. Holding it up, he added, “Every outfit you brought me earlier, I'll take them all.”

The announcement hit the staff like a clap of thunder. Jaws dropped, eyes widened, and the boutique fell into stunned silence.

They all knew each ensemble Ivy had chosen started at well over ten thousand, yet this child intended to buy the lot without blinking.

Ivy's fingers hovered around the card, uncertainty flickering across her eyes as she sought Nathaniel's approval.

Jonathan was still a minor. A purchase of this scale required his guardian's word.

Nathaniel gave a single, calm nod. “Wrap them.”

He still did not understand why Jonathan wanted an entire rack of adult clothing, yet he trusted the boy's reasons.

Joy flared in Ivy's expression. “Of course,” she said, nearly breathless with excitement.

She hurried off, sweeping the garments from velvet hangers into satin-lined bags with practiced speed.

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