ELOISE
The brass chimes above the door of the boutique didn't just ring; they announced an arrival.
I adjusted a rack of silk champagne blouses, pulling my posture into a straight, elegant line. This wasn't my first shift at the high-end boutique, and I had already learned to appreciate the quiet, sophisticated rhythm of the shop—the scent of lavender and expensive leather, the soft jazz playing from the hidden speakers. It was a pocket of the world where I felt independent, earning my own way in a tailored black vest and matching trousers.
Then, the air in the room shifted.
"I told you, Allie, the autumn line at this particular location has far better tailoring than the city branch," a voice clipped out, sharp, polished, and effortlessly wealthy.
My stomach dropped into a cold,
