She sprayed perfume in my face and called me a homeless rat. Then my

I wiped my face with my sleeve and quietly asked for the store manager. Brittany snorted. “I AM the senior associate on the floor, and I’m asking you to leave before I call security. We don’t do window shopping for people like you.” She actually snapped her fingers at the guard by the door. That’s when the guard, a man named Marcus who I’d met exactly once before, went pale. He didn’t move toward me. He moved toward her. “Ma’am,” he said to Brittany, his voice shaking, “please step back from her. Right now.” Brittany laughed again and told him to mind his job. The front doors chimed. In walked my driver, Andre, in his black suit, followed by two members of the regional corporate team in matching navy blazers, one of them carrying a leather portfolio with the house crest embossed in gold. Andre didn’t look at Brittany. He looked at me. “Mrs. Vance, your 3 o’clock is here. The board is already in the private lounge upstairs.” Brittany’s smirk started to slip. One of the navy blazers, a woman with silver hair, opened the portfolio and read out loud, calmly, for the whole store to hear. “Elena Vance. Majority stakeholder, North American retail division. Here for the quarterly floor review and the termination sign-offs.” The color drained out of Brittany’s face in real time. She actually reached for the counter to steady herself. “I— I didn’t— she looked like—” I finally spoke. “I looked like a customer, Brittany. That used to be enough.” I turned to the silver-haired woman. “Pull the last ninety minutes of the ceiling cameras. Every angle. I want a comprehensive record before we have the conversation about her employment, and about the two associates who watched and said nothing.” Brittany started to cry. I picked up the caramel tote myself, walked it to the register, and set my black card on the glass. “Ring it up. For my assistant. She’d never treat anyone the way you just treated me.”