Ella had already slipped into the changing room again, but the moment she tugged the zipper of the next dress halfway up, she froze, groaned, and let the fabric drop.
"I'm tired," she complained through the curtain. "I'm not changing into another thing. I'll just take everything I picked."
Fiona laughed softly outside. "Ella, you're dramatic."
"No, I'm traumatized," Ella corrected, pushing the curtain open with a sigh
"How do rich people cope with this?". She groaned and continued
"That witch almost made me rethink my existence. I deserve compensation. And compensation is—" she pointed to the pile of dresses on the bench "—this."
She didn't bother trying them on again. She simply grabbed dresses, two jackets, a blazer she wasn't sure she needed, and shoved them into the attendant's arms.
The attendant trembled, sneaking glances at Nathan every few seconds like she was carrying holy artifacts that might explode.
