The boutique smelled of expensive leather and exclusivity.
Sales associates swarmed them. They knew Francesca. They knew the Pearson name.
Lila was in the fitting room.
She came out wearing a silver sequined gown. It cost twelve thousand dollars.
"It's gorgeous," Lila said, twirling. "Francesca, isn't it perfect for your engagement party?"
"It fits you perfectly," Francesca said. "Like a glove."
"I'll take it," Lila told the sales associate. "And the shoes. And the bag."
The associate beamed. She started piling boxes on the counter.
She looked at Francesca, waiting for the card.
Francesca crossed her arms. She looked confused.
"Why are you looking at me?" Francesca asked loudly.
The store went quiet.
Lila froze. "What?"
"You're buying them, right?" Francesca said. "Like you said at brunch. You've been saving up."
Lila's face flushed pink. "Francesca, stop joking. You know my trust fund doesn't disburse until next month."
"But my father froze my cards for the wedding budget," Francesca said. Her voice carried. "I literally have zero dollars on me."
The sales associate's smile vanished. She looked at Lila with sudden suspicion.
"I... I can put it on my card," Lila stammered. "I'll just pay it off later."
She pulled out her Visa.
She handed it to the clerk.
Lila looked confident. She didn't know Francesca had logged into her banking app five minutes ago and flagged all transactions as fraudulent.
The clerk inserted the card.
Beep.
"Declined," the clerk said, her voice flat.
Lila laughed nervously. "That's a mistake. Try it again."
Beep.
"Declined again," the clerk said, pulling the card out. Her tone grew cooler. "Ma'am, it says there's a security hold on the account. It's asking for a call to the issuing bank to verify your identity."
"It's not stolen!" Lila shrieked. "It's mine!"
Other customers were looking. A woman in pearls whispered to her daughter.
Lila turned to Francesca. "Did you do this?"
Francesca held up her hands. "I haven't touched your wallet, Lila."
"You have to pay for this," Lila hissed. "I'm already wearing the dress."
"I can't," Francesca said. "I'm broke. Remember?"
"Miss," the clerk said, stepping around the counter. "I need you to take off the dress. Now."
Lila looked like she was going to cry. Or explode.
The door to the boutique opened.
A hum of an electric motor cut through the tension.
Grafton Faulkner rolled in.
Two massive bodyguards flanked him.
He looked like a king on a throne. His suit was bespoke. His face was bored.
He stopped in the center of the room.
He looked at Lila, red-faced and trembling.
He looked at Francesca, calm and cool.
"Quite a show," Grafton said. His voice was deep, commanding the room. "Is someone bothering my brother's fiancée?"
Lila's eyes lit up.
"Grafton!" she cried. She ran toward him. "Thank God. These people are being awful to me."
