Chapter 10 — A Little Humiliation
The security guard held up a hand before Alex or Fidelia had taken more than two steps toward the door. "Invitation, please."
"We don't have one," Fidelia said, all smiles despite it. "But could we take a quick look anyway?"
"I'm sorry, ladies. Invitation only."
From just inside the store, Aria watched the exchange with obvious delight, unable to resist adding her own commentary. "It seems even a store like this is out of reach for a two-bit model. I'd head over to the discount section on the other side of the mall — more your speed."
The mall's manager happened to be passing at exactly that moment, drawn by the small crowd that had gathered near the entrance. He recognized Aria's voice before he saw her face — she wasn't exactly known for keeping it down.
"Miss Porter," he said, already bracing himself. "How can I help you?"
"Julien, hello. No problem at all — I was just letting these two know they're blocking the entrance." Aria's smile was all performance.
Julien's gaze drifted past her to the entrance itself, landing on Alex, and his composure cracked immediately. He crossed the distance between them fast enough that his own assistant had to jog to keep up.
"Madam, I am so sorry for the confusion — the guard clearly wasn't briefed properly." He shot the guard a look sharp enough to make the younger man flinch. "Please, come in."
Alex offered a small, gracious smile and followed him inside, already being personally escorted through the store like visiting royalty.
Aria, thoroughly confused now, cut back in. "Julien, they don't have an invitation. I don't particularly want to share my shopping experience with people like that."
Julien's expression shifted into something closer to horror at the audacity of the comment. He'd tolerated Aria's demands for years precisely because the customer was always right — but that policy had its limits, and today had apparently found them.
"Miss Porter, this is the owner of CANDIDE. I'm not in a position to remove her from her own store." His tone stayed polite, though the edge underneath it was unmistakable. "Your selections from the website are already waiting in your fitting room — the largest one, as requested."
CANDIDE had started small, a single store her grandfather built in New Bell after losing everything else to her father. What began as barely enough to cover school fees had grown, slowly and stubbornly, into an exclusive label with locations scattered across the world, its limited inventory turning each release into something people fought over. Alex had inherited it after his death and spent years growing it into exactly the kind of brand that made rooms go quiet when its name came up. She'd never wanted it to be about revenge, not really — it had started as a way to honor the one person in her family who'd never once made her feel like a burden — but she wasn't going to pretend the satisfaction of watching Aria's face fall didn't feel good.
Aria's face had gone rigid the second the word owner registered. She'd worn this label for years, certain the man behind it was some elderly designer named Michell, nothing more.
"Nice try," she said, recovering fast, voice pitched loud enough to carry. "I've worn this brand long enough to know the owner is a Mr. Michell."
Alex, halfway to the shelves already, stopped and turned back at the mention of her grandfather's name. She reached up out of habit, touching the ring on her finger — a gift from him, one she'd worn every day since he passed, the small motion something her hands did automatically whenever his name came up.
"Mr. Michell is my grandfather," she said, voice level and cold enough that the temperature of the room seemed to drop with it. "This is my business. Is that a problem?" A pause, a small, sharp smile. "You might want to update your information."
Then, just as quickly, her expression smoothed back into something warmer. "Since you're clearly a loyal customer, I'll forgive the confusion. In fact, since I'm in a generous mood, the dresses you've selected today are on the house. What do you say?"
Aria's jaw tightened, embarrassment flashing hot across her face. "I don't need charity. I have more than enough money to buy everything in this store if I wanted to."
Beside her, Clara — who'd been quiet through most of the exchange — lit up. "Wait, you should take the offer! Your dad hasn't frozen the card, right? Free clothes are free clothes. I think she's actually being really nice about this."
"Shut up, Clara," Aria snapped, whirling toward the exit and dragging her friend along by the arm before she could embarrass her further.
Fidelia, who'd been holding in her laughter through sheer willpower, finally let it out the second the door swung shut behind them. Outside, Aria's voice carried clearly back through the glass.
"Are you actually an idiot? How could you say that in front of her?"
"I was just telling the truth! I thought you'd want the free dress — I was trying to help you!" Clara's voice, confused and a little wounded, drifted in behind hers.
"We were trying to humiliate her, remember? That was the entire point of coming here!"
"...Oh. Right." A pause. "But didn't we just get humiliated by her instead?"
"And whose fault is that?" Aria's voice climbed another octave before fading out of earshot entirely, presumably as they made their way toward the parking garage, still arguing.
Fidelia wiped tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone dig themselves a hole that fast in my entire life."
"She's always been like that," Alex said, still smiling faintly as she moved through the racks, running a hand along a row of coats she had no real intention of buying. "Convinced the whole world exists to serve her, and completely unable to understand why it keeps refusing to cooperate."
"Are you okay? Running into her like that, out of nowhere?"
Alex considered the question honestly before answering. She'd expected, if she ever ran into anyone from that house again, to feel something closer to rage, or grief, or the old familiar tightness in her chest that used to show up whenever she thought too hard about that year. Instead, watching Aria storm off in a fit of wounded pride, she'd mostly just felt amused.
"I'm fine," she said, and found, a little to her own surprise, that she meant it. "Actually, better than fine. I think that might be the most satisfying five minutes I've had in years."
She picked out three dresses she actually wanted, had them wrapped, and left the store with Fidelia still laughing beside her, already composing the story in her head for the next time either of them needed a reason to smile.
"You know this isn't the end of it, right?" Fidelia said as they walked back through the mall's flower-lined atrium, bags in hand. "Girls like that don't just slink off and accept defeat. She's going to come back around, probably with better information next time."
"I know." Alex didn't sound particularly worried about it. If anything, there was something almost like anticipation in her voice. "Let her try. I didn't come back to this country to hide from my own family."
"Careful, baby girl. I love watching you win, but I also love not having to bail you out of anything." Fidelia bumped her shoulder gently, teasing. "Pace yourself. You've got a movie to film and a fake boyfriend to keep happy."
"He's not that fragile." Alex smiled, thinking of Ethan despite herself, the mention of him surfacing easily now in a way it hadn't a week ago. "Besides, I think I can manage both."
They stopped for coffee before heading back to the hotel, the afternoon light slanting gold through the mall's enormous glass ceiling, and for the first time since she'd landed, Alex let herself simply enjoy the ordinary pleasure of being somewhere new with her best friend, unbothered by ghosts or grudges for the length of one good cup of coffee. It wouldn't last, she knew that much already — nothing about this country ever let her rest for long — but she'd take the hour while it lasted.