Ethan strolled through the mall, hands in his pockets, just killing time. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular—maybe a snack, maybe a new game—but he certainly wasn’t expecting his entire life to change.
Near one of the high-end boutiques, a group of girls stood chatting, their arms heavy with shopping bags from luxury brands. They were dressed in designer outfits, their nails perfectly manicured, their hair styled in flawless waves. Their laughter was high-pitched and unmistakably smug.
One of them, a blonde girl in a pink minidress, noticed him. She nudged her friend, a brunette with oversized sunglasses, and whispered something. Before Ethan could react, they were walking toward him, their heels clicking against the polished mall floor.
“Ugh, like, who even are you?” the blonde sneered, crossing her arms.
Ethan blinked. “Uh… just walking around?”
The brunette smirked. “You’re, like, so plain. That’s kinda tragic.”
The third girl, a redhead in diamond-studded heels, giggled. “Yeah, babe, like, you totally need an upgrade.”
Ethan wanted to roll his eyes and walk away, but something stopped him. A strange dizziness washed over him. His clothes suddenly felt wrong—too loose, too… cheap? He frowned, touching his hair, which felt longer, smoother. His arms, which had been strong and broad, now felt slender and delicate.
“Oh-em-gee, Brittany, your highlights are, like, so perfect today,” the blonde gushed.
Ethan—no, Brittany—flipped her silky blonde hair over her shoulder and giggled. “Ugh, I know, right? My stylist is literally a genius.”
She didn’t question why she had said that. Why would she? She had always been this way—rich, spoiled, effortlessly perfect.
“Babe, we, like, totally need to get more shoes,” the brunette said, looping her arm through Brittany’s. “Gucci just got their new collection in!”
Brittany squealed. “Shut up! We have to go!”
And just like that, she strutted off with her besties, her designer handbag swinging at her side.
Nothing seemed strange.
She had always been Brittany—wealthy, fabulous, and completely obsessed with shopping.
And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Brittany strutted through the mall with her besties, her designer heels clicking against the marble floors. The thought of ever being anyone other than the rich, spoiled, and fabulous girl she was never even crossed her mind. Why would it? She had always been this way.
The girls made their way to Gucci, where a private sales associate immediately greeted them with a warm smile.
“Welcome back, Miss Brittany. The new arrivals are in, just as you requested,” the associate said, leading them to a private shopping lounge.
Brittany tossed her long blonde hair and gave a smug smirk. “Ugh, finally. I need something fresh for the party this weekend.”
The sales associate began presenting an array of handbags and shoes, and Brittany gasped in delight at a pink crocodile-skin purse. “O-M-G, this is literally perfect for my outfit!”
Her best friend, Tiffany, giggled. “Babe, that bag was made for you.”
Brittany barely glanced at the price tag—after all, Daddy’s credit card had no limit. With a flick of her manicured nails, she handed the card over.
As they continued shopping, Brittany’s life felt so natural, so right. She wasn’t some boring guy walking around the mall—ew, no. She was Brittany Hastings, the it girl, the queen of luxury.
After hours of shopping, the girls decided to stop at the most exclusive café in the mall. Brittany sipped her oat milk latte and scrolled through her phone, admiring her latest Instagram post—Flawless as always. Don’t be jealous, babes. The likes were rolling in.
She looked up at her friends. “Ugh, like, we so need to plan our next shopping trip. Paris next weekend?”
Tiffany gasped. “Babe, yes! We can totally take the private jet.”
Brittany grinned, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Obvi. I literally can’t imagine flying commercial.”
Nothing seemed strange.
She had always been this way.
And life was perfect.
Later that evening, Brittany lounged on a plush, velvet chaise in her pink and gold bedroom, surrounded by shopping bags from Chanel, Gucci, and Louis Vuitton. The scent of her expensive vanilla-scented candles filled the air as she lazily scrolled through her phone.
A soft knock came at the door, and before she could even respond, the maid, Isabella, stepped inside with a tray of macarons and a sparkling glass of rosé.
“Miss Brittany, your father is on the phone,” Isabella said gently, placing the tray on the marble vanity.
Brittany rolled her eyes but took the phone anyway, twirling a strand of her perfectly styled blonde hair. “Daddy! O-M-G, I literally missed you so much! Are you finally back from your business trip?”
Her father chuckled on the other end. “Not yet, sweetheart, but I’ll be home this weekend. Did you get the allowance I sent you?”
Brittany scoffed. “Ugh, Daddy, obviously I did, but it was so not enough. I needed way more for today’s shopping spree. I had to use two of my credit cards!”
Her father sighed, amused. “Brittany, you know I always make sure you have whatever you want. How much do you need, princess?”
Brittany grinned, kicking her feet up. “Mmm, let’s say… another fifty thousand? I literally need the new diamond-studded Jimmy Choos, and my Chanel bags are, like, so last season.”
There was a pause, then a chuckle. “Alright, sweetheart, I’ll have my assistant transfer it to you in the morning.”
Brittany squealed. “O-M-G, Daddy! You are literally the best! Love you so much, mwah mwah!”
As she hung up, she turned to Isabella. “Ugh, finally, some real money. And, like, be a dear and book me a facial for tomorrow. I literally can’t walk around with anything less than perfect skin.”
Isabella bowed her head slightly. “Of course, Miss Brittany.”
Brittany flopped back on her bed, completely at ease.
Her daddy always made sure she had whatever she wanted.
Life was perfect.
The next morning, Brittany woke up to the soft chime of her custom diamond-encrusted alarm clock. She stretched, letting out a dramatic yawn, before checking her phone. Twenty new messages—all from her besties, gushing about their plans for the day.
Tiffany: Babe, brunch at The Ritz? I need avocado toast and gossip.
Ashley: O-M-G, did you see Kayla’s Insta? She got a new Porsche. We need to up our game.
Chloe: Shopping spree after brunch? Daddy just sent me another 100K. Let’s wreck Rodeo Drive.
Brittany giggled, tossing her phone onto her silk sheets. "Ugh, these girls are literally my soulmates."
Sliding into her fluffy designer slippers, she made her way to her massive walk-in closet—bigger than most apartments—lined with endless racks of couture dresses, sky-high heels, and handbags worth more than some people’s houses.
"Hmm," she muttered, tapping a manicured nail against her chin. "What vibe am I going for today? Rich but effortless? No, wait. Devastatingly rich."
She finally settled on a fitted white Chanel mini dress, gold Valentino heels, and, of course, oversized sunglasses to shield her eyes from the peasants.
By the time she strutted into The Ritz, her besties were already waiting at their usual VIP table. The second she sat down, Tiffany flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Spill, Brit. What did your dad buy you this time?"
Brittany smirked, sipping her sparkling mimosa. "Ugh, just the usual. A fresh fifty K in my account, but like, whatever."
Ashley gasped. "Babe. Same. Our daddies love us."
Chloe nodded seriously. "Honestly, it’s just so hard being us. We’re, like, so rich and so gorgeous, but people just don’t get it."
Brittany sighed dramatically. "Literally. Yesterday? I asked Isabella to get me Evian water and she brought me Fiji. Like, do I look like I drink Fiji?"
Her friends gasped in horror.
Tiffany reached over, squeezing Brittany’s hand. "Babe, that must have been so traumatic for you."
Brittany nodded solemnly. "It really was."
Just then, their waiter arrived, but Brittany didn’t even bother looking at him. Instead, she glanced down at her fresh diamond-encrusted nails and sighed.
This was the life she had always known.
Daddy’s little princess. Rich, fabulous, and completely untouchable.