THE BILLIONAIRE HEIRESS' COMEBACK

CHAPTER 16

The car ride felt like both a long and short journey for me as I wasn’t entirely ready to go out, but as I gazed out the window, watching the moving cars, pedestrians hurrying along the sidewalks, and street vendors tending to their stalls, I found a small sense of comfort.

The familiar sight of the bustling city helped ease some of my tension, though it didn’t do much to stop the nervous sweat forming in my palms.

After all, this was my first time stepping outside in two months—and not just for any reason.

And today marked the first time I would be actively involved in our family business.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, when my phone vibrated in my lap. It was a message from Vincentius.

He had sent me the contact information of the mall's manager and assistant manager, instructing me to call the assistant manager as soon as I arrived.

Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and a fleeting moment, the car slowed to a stop at the grand entrance of the mall.

I thanked the bodyguard, who also served as my driver, and reminded him to follow me inside once he found a parking spot. With that, I stepped out of the vehicle, the rush of warm air and the lively chatter of mall-goers greeting me instantly.

The entrance was busy, with people coming in and out in waves—shoppers carrying bags, families strolling together, and employees in uniform hurrying to their respective stores.

Finding the assistant manager in this sea of people would be difficult, so I had no choice but to call the number Vincentius had given me.

I dialed, pressing the phone to my ear. It only rang once before a woman answered.

“Hello, who is this?” she asked, her tone brisk yet professional.

“Hi, I’m Clara. I was sent here by Mr. Vincentius Montemayor.”

“Yes, ma’am," she responded immediately. "I'm Mira, the Assistant Manager of the mall. I’m currently standing in front of the entrance.” There was a hint of relief in her voice, as if she had been waiting for me with some urgency.

I turned my head, scanning the area while still holding the phone to my ear.

My eyes landed on a woman standing near the revolving doors, dressed in a black corporate outfit while her blazer is perfectly tailored, she looked composed yet alert.

Her dark hair was styled into a neat bun, and she too seemed to be searching the crowd.

“I see you,” I said. “I’ll raise my hand.”

“Got it,” she replied.

I lifted my hand slightly above my shoulder, and almost immediately, she locked eyes with me and started making her way through the crowd.

The moment Mira approached me, she gave me a slight bow in greeting.

“I suppose we can skip the pleasantries for now, right?” I said as we began walking through the crowd. “Mr. Montemayor mentioned a commotion at the department store. Brief me on the situation.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she responded promptly, falling in step beside me.

“A couple is demanding a refund for clothing they claim to have purchased from the department store. The item in question is from a high-end brand, and they discovered a hole in the inner pocket. Since the damage isn’t visible from the outside, they didn’t notice it until later.”

I furrowed my brows. “And what seems to be the problem? If the item is defective, wouldn’t a refund or exchange be the standard procedure?”

“Well, the issue is that the couple didn’t bring the receipt,” Mira explained. “They claim they threw it away, but per store policy, we can’t process a refund without proof of purchase.”

“Did they say if they can recognize the one who issued the receipt?

“No, ma'am. They said that they've brought the piece from last week and just noticed it today”

I nodded as we stepped into the elevator, heading up to the third floor. “Have you checked the transaction records? If they paid with a card, there should be a digital record of the purchase.”

“We attempted to verify that,” Mira nodded, pressing the button for the department store level. “But they insist they paid in cash.”

I exhaled slowly. This was becoming more complicated than expected. “What about the clothing tag? If the item was indeed purchased here, it should match our inventory records.”

“We’re in the process of checking,” she replied. “But there’s another issue—the exact design they’re returning is from last season’s collection. That brand rotates stock frequently, and we haven’t sold that piece in weeks.”

I pressed my lips together in thought. “So, you’re saying it’s possible they bought it elsewhere?”

Mira nodded. “Yes, ma'am”

“Or they could be trying to return an old item, claiming it was recently purchased.” I murmured

The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped out into the brightly lit department store.

The murmur of customers filled the space, but near the customer service counter, voices were raised in frustration.

A man and woman stood there, arms crossed, looking impatient as a*****e manager attempted to reason with them.

I took a deep breath and walked toward them, Mira close behind. “Alright,” I murmured. “Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

As we approached, the woman’s voice rose. “This is ridiculous! We shop here all the time. Why would we lie about this?”

The man beside her added, “Are you seriously telling me you can’t issue a refund for a defective item? This is terrible customer service!”

"I'm sorry, ma'am and sir, but we are still in the process of verifying the item you purchased," the store manager responded, keeping her tone calm and professional.

The man let out a frustrated scoff. "Are you serious right now? We've been here since earlier. How much longer is this going to take?"

"Seriously, why can’t you just give us the refund already?" the woman added, crossing her arms.

The store manager remained firm. "I'm sorry, but as per store policy, all refunds must go through proper verification to prevent unauthorized returns."

The woman scoffed again, her expression hardening. "Unauthorized? Are you accusing us of lying?"

Suddenly, the man slammed his palm against the counter, making the nearby staff flinch.

His voice rose, drawing the attention of other customers. "You're wasting our time with this bullshit!"

"Sir, please lower your voice," the manager said, standing her ground. "I understand that you're upset, but aggression won’t change store policy."

The man’s face twisted in anger. "Hey, seriously, what the hell is your problem, huh?! We told you we bought that damn leather jacket from here!"

"We understand your frustration, sir” the manager repeated, maintaining her composure. "But as per policy, we need proper verification before issuing a refund."

"This is ridiculous!" the woman snapped. "We're being treated like criminals just for asking for our money back!"

Without warning, the man raised his hand and slapped the manager across the face.

A collective gasp rippled through the store as employees and customers froze in shock.

The manager staggered slightly, her cheek reddening from the impact, but she quickly straightened herself.

Seeing the manager remain composed only seemed to fuel the man’s rage. He let out a bitter laugh. “Tsk. Look at you, acting all high and mighty over a damn refund. You’re just a salesperson—a nobody behind a counter. Do you really think you have the power to deny me?”

His words were full of insults, not just toward the manager but to every salesperson witnessing the scene.

“Answer me, you fucker—” The man raised his hand again, about to strike the manager once more.

I quickened my pace and stepped in, catching his wrist just in time.

The man’s eyes darkened with fury as he whipped his head toward me. “Who the f**k are you?”

“Good afternoon, sir. I'm Clara, and I oversee the business operations here. I understand you're frustrated, but please refrain from assaulting our staff.”

The man scoffed, yanking his arm away from my grasp. “Oh, so you're in charge? Does that mean you can actually make a decision faster than these useless salespeople?”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. “We can certainly talk this out calmly, sir.”

The woman huffed, crossing her arms. “There’s nothing to talk about. All we want is a refund for the dress.”

The man jabbed a finger toward the counter. “Yeah! That’s all we’re asking for! You people are making this way more complicated than it needs to be!”

I kept my posture composed. “I understand that, sir. However, as you were informed, we have a refund policy in place. You claim to have purchased the dress here, but without a receipt, we have to verify the transaction in other ways.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “We told you—we paid in cash! And we already threw away the receipt. Are you seriously saying you can’t make an exception?”

I remained firm. “Exceptions can be made under reasonable circumstances, but there are several inconsistencies with this situation. First, the leather jacket you’re returning is from last season’s collection, and our records show we haven’t sold that design in weeks.”

The man’s jaw tightened. “Are you calling us liars?”

“I’m stating the facts,” I replied calmly. “And second, without a receipt or a digital transaction record, we have no way of confirming this item was purchased here.”

The woman scoffed. “This is ridiculous! We shop here all the time. Are you seriously saying you don’t trust your own customers?”

“Our policies apply to all customers, regardless of how often they shop here,” I said smoothly. “But let’s take a step back. You mentioned you found the damage only today, correct?”

The man folded his arms. “Yeah. We didn’t notice the hole in the pocket until now.”

I glanced at Mira, who gave me a subtle nod. Our inventory check should be completed by now.

I turned back to the couple. “Alright, since you insist you purchased it here, let’s settle this. We’ll check the inventory tag on the leather jacket and match it against our stock records. If it was indeed sold at this store, we’ll process the refund. But if the tag does not match our inventory, then it wasn’t purchased here, and we cannot issue a refund. Does that sound fair?”

The woman hesitated, her fingers tightening around her purse strap. The man, however, let out a dry chuckle. “Fine. Do whatever you have to do. But I’m telling you, we bought it here.”

I nodded and turned to Mira. “Let’s proceed with the verification.”

Mira signaled to a*****e associate, who quickly retrieved the leather jacket in question and brought it over. My eyes flickered to the tag as the associate scanned it into our system.

A few seconds later, the result popped up on the screen.

The item was not from our store.