Chapter 1 - The Fitting Room Snub
Vanessa Cole wiped the velvet mannequin shoulder with a silk handkerchief, treating Naomi’s proximity like toxic waste.
Around them, the gold-leaf chandeliers of Maison Valmont hummed with quiet, cold wealth on Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue. Naomi took a measured breath, refusing to pull her shoulders inward under her stepsister's condescending glare.
"You smell like subway grease and diner grease," Vanessa hissed, stepping into Naomi’s personal space.
"Did you honestly think stepping inside here with a fake appointment would make you look like one of us?"
"I didn't book an appointment under false pretenses, Vanessa," Naomi said evenly.
"The salon manager called me this morning to review the embroidery specifications."
Vanessa threw her head back and let out a sharp, mocking laugh that drew the attention of three sales associates.
"Embroidery specifications? You teach art history to community college freshmen for forty thousand a year. You couldn't afford the tissue paper inside the garment box."
The boutique’s head director, Madame Denise Dupont, glided over across the hand-tufted Persian carpet.
Her thin lips were pressed into a flat line as she evaluated Naomi's scuffed white sneakers and thrifted denim jacket.
"Is there a disturbance, Miss Cole?" Denise asked, bowing her head deferentially toward Vanessa while ignoring Naomi completely.
"Denise, darling, this girl just touched the Archduchess gown," Vanessa said, feigning fainting horror.
"The custom piece reserved exclusively for the premier client of the season. She has no reservation, no collateral, and clearly no manners."
Naomi looked Denise dead in the eye.
"My name is Naomi Cole. I was asked to inspect the archival threadwork on the French lace."
Denise gave a dismissive smirk, looking down her aristocratic nose.
"Mademoiselle, Maison Valmont does not require critiques from charity cases. Security is already monitoring your exit. Leave now before we have the police inspect your handbag for stolen pins."
Naomi did not flinch, though the stinging insult burned hot in her chest.
May you like
She turned calmly toward the gilded glass doors, her hand reaching into her pocket to retrieve her ringing phone.
Before she could step onto the marble threshold, the heavy glass doors were pushed open by two burly security detail officers in bespoke navy suits.
