Chapter 106

After gathering their belongings, Allison and Rebecca arrived at the SKP shopping center near Muisvedo. To their surprise, a brand-new Chanel boutique had opened.

"Look, a new store!" Rebecca exclaimed, her eyes lighting up at the elegant window display. "Let's go see it."

Without waiting for a response, she entered, her gaze immediately drawn to a dress in the center of the window. "It's haute couture," she murmured. "I remember seeing it on the catwalk. What do you think?"

Allison nodded, her expression calm but intrigued. "It's stunning."

The dress, the Chanel piece of the season, was crafted from luxurious satin that shimmered like liquid silk. Rhinestones adorned the hem, and a magnificent ruby, known as the Mermaid's Tear, was embedded in the bodice—a gem that had recently commanded headlines after its high-profile auction. Dresses like this were rarely seen in stores; whoever owned this boutique clearly possessed considerable influence.

"This," Allison said simply, presenting her card to the saleswoman.

The saleswoman hesitated, her gaze flitting between the dress and Allison. "Miss, it's a custom piece."

"I know," Allison began, but before she could continue, a woman shoved her aside.

"This dress is perfect," the woman declared. "Wrap it up for me." The woman, wearing oversized sunglasses, pointed to the dress as if it were already hers. "It will suit my daughter wonderfully."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "Like the saying goes, 'first come, first served.' We were looking at that dress," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Rebecca loathed being disregarded, especially when Allison genuinely desired the garment. Turning to the saleswoman, she said sharply, "We were here first."

Francene Deleon, the woman in sunglasses, slowly raised them, regarding them with disdain. "Just the two of you?" she scoffed. "You must be lost. Even the saleswoman doubts you can afford it. Why don't you try the wholesale market? You might find something more suitable there."

Rebecca examined her own attire—a simple white blouse and black skirt from long shifts at her father's company—and understood the saleswoman's skepticism. Hardly runway-ready. Allison, on the other hand, possessed a wardrobe filled with custom-made pieces, often designed by herself, making their true value impossible for most to discern.

Rebecca smiled, her tone scathing. "At least we don't look like nouveau riche. By the way," she added, addressing Francene, "those earrings are three seasons out of date. Futuristic technology doesn't quite complement your outfit. Perhaps instead of name-calling, you should focus on improving your own sense of style. You wouldn't want anyone to laugh at you."

Turning back to the saleswoman, her patience thinning, Rebecca continued, "And you, what are you waiting for? I have to explain the basics of customer service? Honor the first customer who requests it."

But the saleswoman remained motionless. Instead, she slid Allison's card back across the counter, her voice cold. "You two should stop causing trouble. You can't flip through a few fashion magazines and expect to leap social classes." Then, she turned to Francene and bowed obsequiously. "Madam, you would like this dress."

Francene laughed coldly, standing tall, seemingly reinforced in her sense of superiority. "You see? Some people dress for the occasion, but they'll never truly belong. No matter how elegant their words are, they can't hide their stinginess." She made a dismissive gesture. "I don't have time for this. Wrap it up and tell me how much it costs." She already envisioned the dress as the perfect wedding gift for her daughter, a statement piece to solidify her status with her future in-laws.

"Madam, you don't need to worry about them," the saleswoman said with a smile. "We get people like this every day. They look but never buy. They always say they need to think about it when it comes to paying. I've seen it all. Don't let them ruin your mood." Her eyes filled with disdain. "I wonder when people like them will learn: If you can't afford it, don't bother coming in."