Chapter 2 - The Shift in the Room
Marcus blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Sir? The procedure for damaged property—”
“I said, let her go!” Ethan shouted, his voice echoing sharply against the imported marble floors, startling several shoppers browsing near the handbag display.
Marcus hastily dropped his hand as if he had just touched a live electrical wire, stepping back with a clumsy stumble.
Natalie’s confident smile faltered, her eyes darting between Ethan’s pale, sweat-beaded face and the quiet woman standing in front of her. “Ethan, what are you doing? She’s the one who ruined the dress! Why are you yelling at security?”
Clara didn't flinch. She slowly rolled her right wrist, rubbing the faint red imprint where the guard’s fingers had dug in. She didn't look angry; her expression was terrifyingly calm, carrying the heavy, measured stillness of an executioner checking her blade.
“Mr. Reed,” Clara said, her voice quiet, cutting through the silence of the boutique with absolute clarity. “It’s been a while. How are your quarterly inventory metrics looking this month?”
Ethan practically threw himself forward, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of absolute subservience that made Natalie’s jaw drop.
“Ms. Vance,” Ethan stammered, his hands hovering helplessly near his sides. “I... I had no idea you were inspecting this location today. If we had known you were visiting unannounced, we would have—we would have prepared—”
“Prepared what?” Clara interrupted smoothly, stepping forward and laying the ruined emerald dress across a velvet display table. “A sanitized version of the sales floor? The illusion that your associates treat every human being who walks through these doors with basic dignity?”
Natalie let out a nervous, breathless laugh, trying to regain her footing. “Ethan, what is going on? Who is this woman? Why are you calling her—?”
“Shut up, Natalie,” Ethan hissed, his face flushing dark red with mortification as he finally turned on her. “You fool. Do you have any idea who you just detained?”
Clara turned her amber eyes toward Natalie, who suddenly looked very small beneath the brilliant gold lights of the boutique.
“She knows my name now, Ethan,” Clara said softly. “Earlier, she wondered what someone like me was even doing in a store like this. She suggested I’d have to sell everything I own just to pay for a dress that was already damaged when she handed it to me.”
Natalie’s face turned the color of chalk. “I... I didn't mean... you were dressed like—”
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“Like someone who wasn't wearing a Maison Avery corporate badge?” Clara finished for her, tilting her head. “Fascinating how quickly uniform and social standing dictate who deserves an investigation and who deserves to be handcuffed by security, isn't it?”
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