Chapter 5

“No! That’s not it. I’ve never thought that!” Vivian said, her voice choked with emotion. Could she ever not acknowledge her sister? Even in death, she would never disown Sienna. “I just don’t want to be a bother. I’m sorry.”

Sienna’s expression softened. “From now on, you tell me everything. We’re family. There’s no such thing as being a ‘bother.’ You girls are the only family I have left. If you push me away, I don’t know what I came back for.”

Vivian’s eyes filled with tears as she nodded fiercely.

After a luxurious hair treatment, they headed straight to the mall. Sienna stepped away to take a call, leaving Vivian to browse and try on clothes on her own.

Then, out of nowhere, two women walked in. Their eyes locked onto Vivian, surprise flashing across their faces before twisting into matching sneers of contempt.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the lovely Miss Vivian Hart,” one of them drawled, sauntering over. “Long time no see. Shopping for new clothes?”

Vivian recognized them. They were her classmates from before, Bella Lewis and Marcy Walker. As soon as she spotted them, her good mood vanished. She turned her back on them without a word.

“Come on, Vivian,” Bella cooed, blocking her path. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

She covered her mouth with a hand, giggling as she looked Vivian up and down. She reeks of poverty, thought Bella. “The nerve, showing up here like this.”

“Oh, don’t you know, Bella? She’s too good for us now,” Marcy chimed in. “By the way, Vivian, did you hear? Mason’s precious Chloe is threatening to move abroad. Mason rushed to the airport to stop her–it was all over the news.”

Vivian didn’t want to engage. She tried to step around them, but Bella blocked her again. “Where’re you going? Marcy is talking to you.”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “I don’t waste my breath on people I don’t know.”

“What?” Bella’s face flushed with anger. “Vivian, do you still think you’re the Hart’s princess? Everyone knows you were kicked out! If you weren’t clinging to Mason for dear life, do you think he ever would have gotten engaged to you?”

“What’s it to you?” Vivian retorted.

“She’s right, Bella, it’s none of our business,” Marcy said, pulling the fuming Bella back, but her eyes landed on the dress in Vivian’s hands. “However, we’ve taken a liking to that dress.”

She then turned to the clerk, pointing at the dress in Vivian’s hand, “Salesclerk! Wrap it up for us.”

The salesclerk looked apologetic. “I’m very sorry, but this lady has already decided to purchase this dress. Perhaps you’d like to look at something else?”

“What did you say?” Marcy snapped. “Do you know who I am? She’s just a low-level office worker. Her monthly salary wouldn’t even cover a pair of my socks. This dress is nearly five thousand dollars. Are you sure she can afford it?”

This clueless clerk is going to regret this, thought Marcy to herself.

The clerk maintained her professional smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Walker.”

“Do you want to get fired?” Marcy barked. “I can have the manager fire you on the spot!”

The clerk looked uneasy. She didn’t know Vivian personally, but she recognized the woman who had just walked in with Vivian–someone who’d worn a globally exclusive, custom-made piece, the kind of client even brand executives respected. Having worked in luxury retail for over a decade, she knew her brands inside and out.

And that was why she stood her ground, refusing to sell the dress to Marcy and Bella.

The manager, hearing the commotion, hurried over. Seeing Bella and Marcy, his face immediately broke into a sycophantic grin.

“Miss Lewis! Miss Walker! So good to see you!” he said warmly. “My clerk here is new. She doesn’t know any better. Please, don’t mind her. It’s just a dress, right?”

Then he turned to the clerk. “If the ladies want it, wrap it up for them! What are you dawdling for?”

“But, sir,” the clerk protested, gesturing toward Vivian, “this lady saw it first, and she said she was buying it.”

“She said she was buying it, which means she hasn’t paid yet,” the manager emphasized, turning to Vivian. “Miss, are you sure you want this dress? If so, you’ll need to pay now.”

Vivian didn’t flinch. “I haven’t finished shopping,” she said coolly. “Why are you rushing me to pay? That’s not your policy.”

The manager couldn’t have cared less about store policy. To him, Bella and Marcy were high society, while Vivian–dressed in clothes that probably cost less than thirty dollars total–was just putting on a show.

“Vivian, there’s no discount on this one," Bella taunted. "Are you sure you want to buy it? I doubt you make that much in a year.”

“That’s none of your concern,” Vivian replied.

“If you want it, pay for it,” Marcy added. “If you don’t, it’s not yours. It’s a simple concept.”

“Indeed, Miss,” the manager said. “Please proceed to payment.”

A flicker of scorn crossed Vivian’s face. They were so quick to judge, but they didn’t know she had the black card. Before leaving, Sienna had left the card for her.

She pulled out the black card, and, just as expected, Bella and Marcy’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“That’s impossible!” Bella shrieked, her composure shattering. “Where did you get a black card? You can’t possibly have one!”

The manager’s jaw dropped. He stared at the card in her hand. It was a global, unlimited black card–the symbol of the truly, unfathomably wealthy.

“My deepest apologies, Miss!” his attitude did a complete one-eighty. “I was out of line just now, please forgive me! Is there anything else you need? Please, take your time, look at all our new arrivals. No rush at all.”

Marcy, however, suddenly had a realization. She pointed at the card, a look of triumph on her face. “I see! Vivian, you stole someone’s credit card! I’m calling the police! You can explain it to them.”

Marcy was one hundred percent certain the card was stolen. Even with the Quinn family’s standing in Vallaris, Mason’s branch of the family couldn’t possibly possess a black card. The Harts were even less likely.

There was only one explanation. It had to be stolen.

Vivian sneered. “Are you insane, Marcy? Go ahead, try stealing one yourself.”

Marcy gritted her teeth. She had always hated Vivian’s smug attitude.

“Vivian, you can’t have a card like that,” Bella insisted. “If it’s not stolen, it must be a fake.”

“Yes, it has to be fake!” Marcy chimed in, turning to the manager. “I’m warning you. She’s just a broke office worker. If she can’t pay, we’re not buying that dress.”

The manager’s smile faltered, his doubts returning. Just then, without another word, Bella snatched the dress from Vivian’s hands.

Caught off guard, Vivian instinctively held on tight. There was a sickening rip sound as the fabric tore.