Hearing the voice, both Willow and Martha turned around. Standing at the entrance were Vivienne and Susannah Sinclair. Dressed to the nines and draped in designer labels, they pointed haughtily at the coat Willow and Martha had been admiring, demanding it for themselves.
The sales associate looked deeply uncomfortable. "I'm so sorry," she apologized gently, "but this piece has already been selected by another client. Would you like to look at something else? We have many other beautiful styles and fits you could try on."
"No, we want that one," Vivienne refused to back down. "My mother loves it, and I'm buying it for her as a gift."
"But we only carry one of each style, and this one truly has already been claimed. How about I recommend a few other options? I promise we can find something that will look absolutely stunning on your mother."
"Are you deaf?" Vivienne snapped. "I said we want that one. Everything else is your problem to solve. And just so you know, I am a VIP client at this boutique."
"Ma'am, I am truly sorry," the associate said, looking close to tears.
Vivienne scoffed. "Clearly, you don't understand English. Go get your manager."
The atmosphere instantly froze.
Martha didn't actually know the two women standing across from them. She simply assumed they were entitled, spoiled socialites throwing a tantrum over a piece of clothing. It really wasn't worth the hassle. Besides, she wasn't dead set on the coat anyway; the price tag was far too steep for their current situation.
She was about to suggest to Willow that they just leave, but when she turned, she noticed the color had drained from Willow's face. The two women were glaring at Willow with a cold, vicious intensity. It was then that Martha realized this wasn't a random dispute.


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