Chapter 9 Panic in the room

Chapter 9

Damien sneered, stepping closer to inspect Ethan's swollen face. "I told you he was a rat. Looks like he got exactly what he deserved in holding. What's the matter, Ethan? Did you come here to beg me for bail money? You're a little late."

The sales associate's eyes darted between them. "You know this gentleman, Mr. Cross?"

"Know him?" Damien laughed. "He's a construction worker. The one who got arrested for corporate espionage."

The associate's expression shifted. And stared at him with disgust from head to toe. 

"I see," she said flatly.

"Did you win the lottery?" Damien's voice was loud. Deliberately loud. People were starting to look. "Did you find a wallet on the street? What's the angle here?"

"Damien, I don't want any trouble. I just want to…"

"To what? Buy a suit?" Damien laughed again. "With what money, Ethan? You couldn't afford a tie in this place."

The sales associate cleared her throat. "Mr. Cross, perhaps we should…"

"No, no." Damien waved her off. "I want to see how this plays out. Ethan, show me. Show me what you were planning to buy."

Ethan stood frozen. The eyes of the entire boutique were on him now. From customers to the staff. Everyone was watching the spectacle unfold.

Ethan tightened his jaw. He slowly pulled the black Centurion card from his pocket and placed it on the glass display counter. "I'm here to buy clothes."

The sales associate stared at the card. Then, he looked at Damien. His smile faltered for the briefest second.

Damien let out a loud, mocking laugh. "A black card? You?" He turned to the associate. "Check the name. It's either a fake he bought online, or he pickpocketed someone."

"Sir, we don’t allow counterfeit cards," the sales associate said sharply, sliding the card back across the glass without even swiping it.

"You're pretending to be rich now?" Kim laughed, shaking her head. "This is actually sad, Ethan. You're running a scam in a place like this?"

Damien snatched it from his hand before Ethan could react. He turned it over and examined it. The color drained from his face.

"This isn't real," he said. "You bought this online. There's no way you have a Centurion card."

"Damien, give it back…"

"Is that what poverty has reduced you to?" Damien's voice was rising now. "You're walking into high-end stores with counterfeit cards, trying to steal…"

"It's not counterfeit."

"Where did you get it?" Damien demanded. 

"I told you. I was given it."

"By who? Your imaginary friend?" Damien laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Ethan, this is pathetic. You're pathetic. You think you can just walk in here and pretend to be something you're not?"

The sales associate stepped forward. "You have to leave before I call security.”

"See?" Damien gestured triumphantly. "You're a fraud, Ethan. A complete and total fraud."

The card was still in Damien's hand. Ethan reached for it.

"Give it back."

"Or what?" Damien held it above his head. "You'll call security? You'll…"

"Damien." Ethan's voice was quiet but hard. "Give it back. Now."

Something in his tone made Damien pause.

Another employee joined them then a teenager in the corner subtly raised their phone, the red recording light blinking.

Across the room, someone else was watching.

Sophia Hart had just entered the boutique for a scheduled fitting. She paused by the displays, watching Ethan. She recognized him instantly from the viral arrest footage. She stayed silent, her gaze shifting to Damien, carefully observing how Damien was currently acting like a vicious bully.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The store manager pushed through the gathering crowd. He had been watching what was happening through the CCTV camera. He took one look at Ethan's boots and dirty swollen face, then turned to Damien with an apologetic smile. 

"Mr. Cross, I am so sorry for the disturbance." He turned his glare onto Ethan. "Mr. Cross is one of our VIP clients. Take your fake plastic and leave my store before I call security and have you arrested for trespassing."

Ethan felt surrounded, exactly like what happened before. The same humiliation, the same mocking faces. But he didn't argue, he wasn't alone. 

He remembered Victor's words. “If anyone troubles you... call me.”

Quietly, Ethan pulled out the new flagship phone. He pressed the single contact on the screen. It rang only once.

"Are you alright?" Victor answered calmly.

"They're refusing me service," Ethan said quietly. "The manager is threatening to call security. They said the card is fake."

"Wait for me."

Then, the line went dead.

Damien scoffed. "Who was that? Your parole officer?"

Ethan just stood there, waiting.

Thirty seconds later, the store manager's phone buzzed in her pocket. She frowned and checked the screen. Her face went pale. It was the Regional Director.

The manager hurried a few steps away to answer. "Yes, sir? What? No, I…"

Before the call finished, the boutique's main landline began to ring frantically. Another sales associate answered, his eyes widening. "Sir... it's the Luxury Division President."

The manager dropped his cell phone. A terrified silence fell over the staff. Damien frowned, sensing the mood in the room but not understanding it. "What's going on? Throw this beggar out!"

Through the massive glass storefront, tires screeched.

A black Maybach slammed to a halt directly on the curb, ignoring the parking zones. The doors flew open. The actual owner of the boutique's parent company, a billionaire in his own right, sprinted out of the car, completely ignoring his driver. He looked panicked.

He burst through the boutique doors, with his chest heaving, and his eyes frantically scanning the room. His store was reported by a high-profile name in the country. 

Damien smiled smoothly and stepped forward to greet him. "Sir! It's a pleasure. I was just telling your manager to get rid of this thief…"

The owner didn't even look at Damien.

He walked directly past him, brushing Damien's shoulder in his haste, and marched straight toward Ethan.

The entire room watched in stunned silence as the owner of one of the most powerful fashion empires in the world stopped in front of a dirty poor looking boy in prison clothes.

The owner bowed. 

"Sir," the owner said, his voice trembling slightly. "I offer my deepest, most profound apologies on behalf of my entire staff."

Damien was stunned. He let out a forced, breathy laugh. "There... there has to be some mistake."

He pointed an accusatory finger at Ethan. "He's a construction worker! Yesterday he was begging me for money. Today you’re bowing to him?"

The owner slowly stood upright. He turned toward Damien. All the panic from moments ago vanished, and was covered by a cold, furious stare.

"Mr. Cross..." The owner stepped forward,  his voice echoing in the dead-silent boutique.

He paused.

"...Do you have any idea who you've been insulting?"