Chapter 3 - The Price Tag Reality
The room seemed to lose all air in a single heartbeat.
Denise Dupont dropped the silver pen she had been holding, the metal clattering loudly across the polished marble floor. Vanessa took an involuntary step back, clutching her pearl necklace as if it could keep her upright.
"F-fiancée?" Vanessa stammered, her voice shaking violently.
"That's impossible! Naomi lives in an attic flat in Queens! She takes the bus!"
Julian didn't honor her with an answer; he turned his full, terrifying attention onto Denise Dupont.
"I was told my bride would be received with complete privacy and the highest level of courtesy. Instead, I find you threatening her with building security."
Denise’s aristocratic composure collapsed into sheer panic, sweat beading instantly along her hairline.
"Mr. Sterling, there was an unfortunate administrative misunderstanding! Miss Cole arrived without an entourage, and we had no formal notice—"
"My executive assistant sent you the concierge wire confirmation at eight this morning," Julian interrupted coldly.
"Along with a non-refundable deposit of five hundred thousand dollars to hold the entire salon closed for her private fitting."
Vanessa gasped, covering her mouth as the true scale of the catastrophe dawned upon her.
Five hundred thousand dollars was more than the entire boutique grossed in an ordinary winter month.
"I touched the lace, Julian," Naomi said softly, pointing to the ivory mannequin in the center of the showroom.
"Vanessa told the staff I wasn't worthy of standing near it because it costs three hundred thousand dollars."
Julian looked at the gown, then looked back at Denise with eyes that could freeze boiling water.
"Three hundred thousand dollars?" Julian asked, pulling a sleek black titanium card from his leather wallet.
"Charge it to my account right now."
Denise beamed with desperate relief, nodding eagerly. "Right away, Mr. Sterling! We will begin packaging the gown immediately!"
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"You misunderstand me," Julian said, his voice deadly quiet.
"I am buying the dress, but it will never touch my wife’s skin. Pack it into a disposal bin. She deserves something created with honor, not manufactured by snobs."
