My Husband Is a Gary Stu

Armand cleared his throat. “Granddad, I'm not a petty person.”

“Pfft! I've seen through you since a long time ago.” Herbert snorted and stuffed a credit card into Genevieve's hand. “Genev, go and get yourself some more nice clothes. Swipe my card, okay?”

Feeling amused by Herbert's authoritative tone, Genevieve giggled. She then leaned over and kissed the old man's cheek before holding Armand's arm and stepping out of the residence.

Once they were out of the Zeigler residence, Armand suddenly bent over and leaned closer to her.

“What's wrong with you? Why are you getting jealous of my granddad?” Genevieve was utterly speechless. Holding Armand's face, she gave him a huge kiss, too. “Is this enough?”

“Yep.” Satisfied, Armand held her hand as they headed toward the open-air parking lot.

Damian, Herbert's driver, was assigned to give them a ride. “Ms. Genevieve, where do you feel like going with Mr. Armand? If you plan to shop for nice clothes, Greenery Mall is an ideal place. There are various branded boutiques over there.”

“Okay! Send us to Greenery Mall then,” Genevieve replied cheerfully.

She took Armand's hand and fiddled with it before asking abruptly, “If anyone takes our pictures on the streets, do you think my current identity will affect your advancement in the political sector?”

Damian chimed in, “Of course not. I bet Mr. Armand's career path will be smooth all the way as long as General Zeigler is around.”

Undeniably, Armand was competent, and he did not need Herbert's help as he had connections in the military and political world. Now that the Zeigler family was backing him up, it would be a certainty that nobody would have the guts to spell him trouble.

Genevieve chuckled and leaned against Armand's shoulder, teasing, “Mr. Armand, how does it feel living off your wife?”

Armand arched an eyebrow and responded, “Not bad.”

Upon reaching Greenery Mall, Genevieve asked Damian to take a spin elsewhere before dropping by to fetch them at half past five later that day.

It had been a while since Genevieve last went shopping. As a fashionable woman, she was interested in the new series of clothes displayed by various boutiques, so she dragged Armand along to visit boutique after boutique, asking for his opinion after trying on the clothes.

Armand kissed her ear, murmuring gently, “My gorgeous wife looks good in anything. Buy them all.”

No words could describe how envious the salesperson felt. “Miss, your boyfriend really pampers you. He waits patiently for you while you're in the fitting room and even squats down to help you put on your heels. The other clients' boyfriends are a stark contrast to him. Right after they enter our boutique with their girlfriends, many are stuck on the couch without moving at all. It's as though they have lost every bit of their energy in a split second.”

“He's not my boyfriend. He's my husband.” Genevieve lifted her chin with a hint of pride and blissfulness written all over her face. “I agreed to be his wife just because he pampers me.”

After looking around in a few boutiques, Genevieve felt a little tired.

Armand whipped out a pair of cozy slippers he had bought previously for her to change into. After that, he thought of taking her for some desserts so she could have a short break.

However, Genevieve suddenly dragged him into a nearby shop selling traditional gowns.

She scanned the shop and noticed about a hundred types of fabric on the display racks on both sides of the shop. However, there were not more than ten ready-made traditional gowns hung near the cashier. Only then did she realize the shop specialized in custom-made traditional gowns.

Genevieve chuckled and leaned against Armand's shoulder, teasing, “Mr. Armand, how does it feel living off your wife?”

Genevieve hod gotten herself fomilior with the foshion world since o long time ogo ond would usuolly purchose clothes from common internotionol bronds. Therefore, she hod o perspective thot troditionol gowns were for too old-foshioned for her ond only suited women obout her grondmother's oge.

Surprisingly, she thought the troditionol gowns in the shop were quite pretty.

The solesperson who wos tidying the fobric stepped forword with o smile. “Miss, ore you plonning to get o custom-mode troditionol gown?”

Genevieve hummed in response before o light green gown cought her eye. “Whot's the size of this gown? Con I try it on?”

In octuolity, oll the troditionol gowns on the honging pole were only somples for disploy, but seeing thot Genevieve seemed to toke on immediote liking to one of the gowns, the solesperson decided to moke on exception. Not to mention, the sight of Armond who wos corrying hondfuls of shopping bogs coused the solesperson to hove o hunch thot he wos filthy rich ond extrovogont in spending.