Chapter 7 - The Interception
Clara didn't hesitate. She stepped past the glass doors of Valerie Vane, her white sneakers clicking softly against the dark herringbone parquet floor.
The senior sales lead—whose nametag read Gillian—turned her head, her eyes flashing with instant annoyance at the sight of another casually dressed intruder.
“Excuse me,” Gillian said, stepping forward to block Clara’s path before she could reach the elderly woman. “If you are here to browse, appointments must be scheduled three weeks in advance through our online portal. We are currently closed to walk-in traffic.”
Clara stopped two feet away from Gillian, her expression entirely unreadable. She looked past the sales lead at the elderly woman, who looked close to tears as the security guards shifted their weight menacingly.
“She wasn't browsing,” Clara said, her voice carrying a quiet, authoritative timbre that made Gillian blink in surprise. “She was asking a simple inventory question about a silk scarf. A question that any retail establishment with basic customer service standards should be able to answer in under thirty seconds.”
Gillian let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, looking Clara up and down with undisguised contempt. “And who exactly appointed you customer service coordinator for Valerie Vane? Do you even know what a silk scarf costs in this boutique? It’s three months of your little gray sweater budget.”
The two security guards chuckled low in their throats.
Clara didn't raise her voice. She slowly reached into her pocket, pulled out her plain leather cardholder, and extracted her corporate executive identification badge—not the Maison Avery card, but the master conglomerate credential that granted her unrestricted oversight across all retail holdings under the parent luxury group, which happened to own a controlling fifty-one percent stake in Valerie Vane as well.
She held the card up, letting the sharp store lighting catch the hologram.
“I don't need an appointment, Gillian,” Clara said softly. “And neither does she.”
May you like
Gillian squinted at the card. As her eyes registered the crest, the gold lettering, and the corporate security clearance code, the confident smirk on her face dissolved into stark, paralyzed terror.
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