The jewelry store carried the distinct smell of polished platinum and old wealth. Olivia adjusted her blazer and went back to arranging the sparkling diamond tennis bracelets, each one laid delicately on the plush velvet display. She didn’t have to work here, not really. Her husband owned the place. But Olivia couldn’t stand the idle life. She longed for purpose, for something real.

“Quiet day,” her coworker Nora whispered beside her.

“I like the peace,” Olivia replied with a smile. “It gives me time to think.”

But the quiet didn’t last long.

The glass doors slammed open with a force that shook the air. Heels clacked across the marble floor, sharp and unrelenting, like a war drum in a quiet room. Vivian—tall, blonde, and dressed in an expensive Chanel suit—strode into the store like she owned it, her every step calculated. Every employee in the room stiffened at the presence of her commanding aura.

“You.” She pointed sharply at Olivia, her voice cutting through the tension. “The Eclipse Collection. The new stock. Now.”

Olivia quickly retrieved the velvet tray from the vault and placed it on the counter, the diamonds and sapphires shimmering in the light.

“The sapphire centerpiece is—”

“I don’t need a lesson from the help,” Vivian interrupted, grabbing a ring and sliding it onto her finger. “This is too tight. Did you resize it without permission?”

“That’s the standard size, ma’am,” Olivia explained calmly. “Sometimes the humidity outside can cause some swelling—”

“Swelling?” Vivian’s voice went up a notch, her nostrils flaring in offense. “Did you just call me fat?”

“I didn’t—”

“You implied it!” Vivian slammed her hand on the counter with a force that made the glass rattle. Her eyes locked onto Olivia, as if daring her to say something else. The disdain was palpable. “Do you know who I am? You’re nothing but a clerk, touching things more expensive than your entire life.”

Vivian kicked off her designer Louboutins.

“My strap is digging into my foot. Fix it.”

Olivia blinked, momentarily stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I said, fix it.” Vivian tossed the shoes onto the floor, her voice laced with command.

The store fell into an uncomfortable silence. Nora looked on, her face a mix of horror and disbelief. This wasn’t just a demanding customer; this was something darker.

Olivia swallowed her pride. She walked around the counter, her face burning with the heat of humiliation. She knelt down on the cold marble floor, lowering herself with a controlled grace, and reached for Vivian’s shoe.

“Careful,” Vivian warned from above. “Those cost more than your rent.”

Olivia gingerly lifted Vivian’s foot to slide the heel back into place, her fingers brushing against her ankle in the process.

SLAP.

The sound echoed through the room, sharp and sudden. Olivia’s head snapped sideways, the sting of the slap jolting through her. She fell backward onto her palms, gasping in disbelief. The entire store froze.

“Don’t you dare touch me with those rough hands!” Vivian screeched, wiping her ankle as if it had been contaminated by the very touch of Olivia’s skin. “Do you even use lotion? This is disgusting!”

Olivia slowly stood, her cheek throbbing, her eyes stinging with a mixture of pain and something deeper—anger.

“You hit me,” Olivia said, her voice shaking.

“I corrected you,” Vivian snapped dismissively, her tone dripping with arrogance. “Consider it a lesson.”

But that wasn’t the moment Vivian made her biggest mistake. It came next.

“Where’s the ring?” Vivian screamed suddenly, her eyes darting to the velvet tray. One of the solitaire rings was missing. “She took it! While she was on the floor, she swiped it! I saw her do it!”

“I didn’t take it,” Olivia said flatly. “You were holding it.”

“She’s a thief!” Vivian shouted, pointing a trembling finger at Olivia. Her face twisted in feigned outrage, her voice rising in pitch. “It’s always the quiet ones. She knelt down to distract me, and she stole a fifty-thousand-dollar ring!”

Tiny, the store’s security guard, stepped forward, looking more uncomfortable than ever. He looked at Olivia, unsure. “Olivia… protocol says I need to check—”

“She’s hiding it!” Vivian shrieked. “In her bra! Or maybe in her underwear! She’s a thief, and I want her stripped! Right now! Or I’ll call the police and tell them she assaulted me!”

“We have cameras,” Tiny said, though his voice was weak with hesitation.

“Cameras can be deleted!” Vivian shouted. “She probably has someone on the inside! I want her stripped! I want to see she’s innocent!”

The demand was deliberate, malicious—an old power move meant to humiliate. The store fell deathly silent.

Olivia knew exactly what was happening. She reached into her pocket, but not for the missing ring. Instead, she pulled out her phone.

“Matthew,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she pressed speed dial.

“Maya?” came his concerned voice instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m at the store,” she said, her eyes still locked on Vivian, who was demanding the manager call the police. “A customer slapped me. And now she’s accusing me of stealing. She wants me stripped.”

There was a beat of silence, not because Matthew was confused, but because he was processing. Then, his voice turned cold and measured.

“Don’t move,” he said, “I’m coming down. Tell security to seal all exits. If she tries to leave, she answers to me.”

The line went dead.

Olivia lowered the phone, her eyes narrowing on Vivian, who was now smugly calling for a manager to sort everything out.

“Who was that?” Vivian sneered.

Olivia wiped a single tear from her cheek, her gaze still icy.

“That was my husband,” she said softly.

The private elevator in the back of the store opened with a quiet whoosh. Not the customer elevator. This was the one only accessible to executives. It required biometric scanning.

Matthew Sterling stepped out.

He didn’t hurry. His movements were deliberate, confident. He was dressed in a sharp, tailored suit with a loosened tie—a sign that he had left his office in haste. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were stormy and sharp, laser-focused. He walked directly toward Olivia without acknowledging anyone else.

Tiny straightened up, murmuring, “Mr. Sterling,” out of reflex.

Vivian didn’t recognize him. She saw the suit and assumed he was just another manager she could bulldoze.

“Finally!” she exclaimed. “Are you the director? Your staff is running a criminal operation, and I—”

Matthew ignored her entirely. He stopped in front of Olivia, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of injury. His hand hovered near her cheek, but he didn’t touch her, as though even the lightest touch might hurt more than it already did.

“Who touched you?” His voice was low, quiet, but it carried across the room, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Olivia looked up at him, her voice still shaky. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Your face is swollen. Who hit you?” His eyes hardened, a storm brewing behind them.

“I did!” Vivian stepped forward, her patience wearing thin. “She deserved it. She was rude, and she stole my diamond ring.”

Matthew turned slowly, his gaze landing on Vivian for the first time. It was a look full of disgust, like someone examining an unpleasant specimen.

“You hit her,” he said.

“I corrected her,” Vivian argued, her chin raised in defiance.

Matthew’s gaze didn’t waver. “We have a strict zero-tolerance policy.” He walked over to a hidden panel on the wall, pressing his thumb to the scanner. A large monitor flickered to life. “But first, let’s clarify what actually happened.”

He pulled up the footage. The resolution was so sharp it almost hurt to look at.

The screen displayed Vivian holding the ring, then looking left at Nora, and then right at Olivia. Olivia, meanwhile, had been focused on Vivian’s shoe. Then, in a swift, practiced motion, Vivian slid the ring into her coat sleeve.

The room gasped collectively.

The video continued to play. Olivia’s fingers brushed Vivian’s ankle, and then the violent slap rang out. The footage captured every detail in high definition. It was all there—the act of violence, the false accusation of theft, the lie.

Matthew paused the video on Vivian’s face, her expression twisted with outrage. But there was no denying the truth.

“That’s doctored!” Vivian screamed, backing away, her voice filled with panic. “That’s a fake! You can’t use this against me!”

“Vivian Van Der Hoven,” Matthew said calmly, walking toward her. “You demanded a strip search. And since we now have video footage of you concealing fifty thousand dollars worth of merchandise, I believe the police will be interested in conducting one. On you.”

Vivian’s legs buckled beneath her. She grabbed the nearest display case to steady herself, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Who are you?” she whispered.

Matthew looked at her with a steely gaze. “You’ll find out soon enough.”