Chapter 3 - The Price of a SlapThe showroom was dead silent except for Elena’s ragged, hysterical sobs echoing off the marble pillars. The two security guards held her firmly pinned to the floor, her knees pressing hard against the cold stone. Her expensive silver dress was stained with dust, and her makeup was ruined by smeared mascara and bitter tears.
Chloe and Beatrice stood frozen against a rack of diamond-encrusted veils, trembling like trapped animals, too terrified to even glance toward the exit. They realized with terrifying clarity that their social circle, their elite status, and their future prospects had just evaporated in less than ten minutes.
Maya stood up, smoothing the front of her simple sweater. She turned her attention to Henderson.
"Manager Henderson, what is the retail value of the dress Miss Vance was trying to purchase today?" Maya asked, gesturing casually toward the shimmering silver couture gown hanging nearby.
Henderson consulted a digital tablet retrieved from his breast pocket. "The gown is part of our limited royal collection, Miss Sterling. The retail price is exactly one hundred and twenty thousand dollars."
Maya nodded slowly. She walked over to the gown, ran her fingertips along the delicate French lace of the sleeve, and then turned back to Elena.
"One hundred and twenty thousand dollars," Maya murmured. "An impressive sum for someone who lives entirely on credit and borrowed prestige. Elena, do you remember what you said when you slapped me? You said: 'That dress is worth more than your life!'"
Elena whimpered, her face pressed slightly against the cold floor. "Please... please, Maya—Miss Sterling... I'm sorry. I didn't know... If I had known who you were—"
"If you had known who I was, you would have licked my boots instead of hitting my face," Maya interrupted, her voice cutting through Elena's pathetic excuses like a razor. "That is the fundamental flaw of people like you, Elena. You don't measure a person's worth by their character, their mind, or their soul. You measure them by the price tag on their clothes. So let's play by your rules."
Maya snapped her fingers. One of the tactical guards instantly stepped forward, opening a heavy leather briefcase and placing it on the glass table. Inside lay neatly stacked bundles of crisp, hundred-dollar bills, accompanied by a portable electronic payment terminal linked directly to the corporate treasury.
"Manager Henderson," Maya instructed calmly. "Charge Miss Vance's personal black card for the full retail value of the dress. And then, tear the dress apart."
Henderson didn't hesitate for a single second. He walked over to the terminal, swiped Elena’s platinum card—which was linked to her father's corporate account—and entered the authorization code. A soft beep confirmed the transaction.
Transaction Approved.
"Done, Miss Sterling," Henderson reported.
Elena let out a piercing shriek of absolute horror. "No! That's my father's emergency account! He'll kill me! You can't do that!"
"I just did," Maya said coldly.
May you like
She walked over to the exquisite, diamond-white couture gown that Elena had admired. Without a moment's hesitation, Maya took a pair of heavy, stainless-steel tailoring shears from Henderson's hand. With three swift, brutal snips, she cut the masterpiece of silk and lace directly down the middle, tearing the expensive fabric into useless, ragged strips before dropping the pieces onto the floor right in front of Elena's face.
"A dress worth more than my life," Maya whispered, looking down at the ruined fabric. "And now it's just trash. Just like your family's reputation."
