Miranda spoke as though the universe had appointed her judge, jury, and executioner. Whatever left her lips became law.
Around her, the sales team bristled in silent revolt, their frustration coiling behind polite smiles they dared not let slip.
“Uh...” one assistant began, the syllable wobbling in mid-air before she swallowed the rest of the sentence.
None of them had the stomach to yank a mask off one child just to appease another spoiled brat.
Seeing their hesitation, Miranda advanced, heels clicking like a metronome of doom.
“If you're too scared, I'll do it myself.”
Whatever veneer of high-society elegance she once flaunted shattered in that moment. She was about to wrestle a monkey mask from a child whose parents weren't even in sight.
Beneath the monkey mask, Jonathan's small face had turned to ice.
He readied himself. The second Miranda grabbed for him, he planned to sink his little teeth into her wrist.
Just then, the junior assistant who had gone to fetch clothes for Jonathan re-emerged, arms buried under a tower of luxury garments.
“Young sir, would you mind seeing whether any of these might suit the grown-ups at home?”
Heads pivoted toward her in symphonic unison.
“Why is everyone gathered here?” She blinked, genuinely lost.
Another saleswoman sidled up, brushed the newcomer's elbow, and murmured so softly the words almost broke. “Ivy, what are you doing? Can't you see there's an issue?”
“What issue?” Ivy held the clothes like a shield, confusion still clouding her eyes.
The others, locked in cutthroat competition, decided a rookie deserved no favors and fell conspicuously silent. “Nothing.”
Bewilderment mounting, Ivy simply shrugged and strode straight to Jonathan, bypassing Miranda as if the woman were a coat rack.
“Young sir, have a look. Perhaps one of these would make a fine gift for your folks?”
Miranda was caught flat-footed by the newcomer's sudden intrusion.
Ivy had been with the store barely two months and had no idea who Miranda was.
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