Chapter 3 SOCIALITES

The morning sun hit the glass towers of the Diamond District with a blinding glare. For three years, Aria had walked these streets in flat shoes and off-brand coats, looking through the windows of boutiques she could have bought ten times over. Today, she stepped out of a black Rolls-Royce Ghost, her feet clad in bespoke red-bottomed heels that clicked against the pavement with the rhythm of a war drum.

She wasn't wearing an apron today. She wore a tailored cream power suit that hugged her figure perfectly, her dark hair flowing in loose, expensive waves. Behind her followed two men in dark suits Thorne security carrying themselves with the quiet lethargy of predators.

Aria stopped in front of L'Etoile, the most exclusive boutique in the city.

Inside, the air was scented with expensive jasmine and the "smell of money." This was Tiffany Ward's favorite haunt. In fact, just last month, Aria had come here to buy a tie for Mark's birthday. The sales manager, a woman named Vera with a face like a pinched lemon, had mocked Aria, telling her that "the thrift store is three blocks down, dear."

Aria pushed open the heavy glass doors. The chime was soft and elegant.

Vera was currently fawning over a group of socialites. She looked up, her fake smile ready to greet a customer, but it froze when she saw Aria. She didn't recognize the suit or the grace immediately,she only recognized the face of the "poor woman" she had bullied.

"You again?" Vera said, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of the other wealthy patrons. She didn't notice the security guards standing outside the door yet. "I thought I made it clear, we don't carry anything in your...price bracket. This isn't a charity, and we don't allow window shopping for the help"

One of the socialites, a woman wearing enough Botox to freeze a lake, giggled. "Oh, Vera, is this the one you told us about? The one who tried to pay for a silk scarf with crumpled five dollar bills?"

Aria didn't flinch. She walked to a display of rare Hermès bags, her fingers hovering over a $50,000 crocodile-skin clutch.

"Don't touch that" Vera shrieked, rushing over. "If you scuff the leather, you'll be in debt for the rest of your mislerable life. Leave. Now. Before I call security to drag you out."

Aria turned slowly, her eyes as cold as arctic ice. "Vera, isn't it? I remember you. You told me that I didn't belong in the presence of such fine things. You told me that my very existence lowered the property value of this street."

Vera sneered, crossing her arms. "I was being honest. Look at you, trying to play dress up in a nice suit. Did you steal that? Or is it a knock off from the night market? Someone like you will never be a 'L'Etoile' woman."

"You're right," Aria said softly. "I'm not a 'L'Etoile' woman. I'm the woman who just bought the building."

The room went silent. Vera burst into a shrill laugh. "You? Buy this building? This property is owned by the Thorne Group's commercial division! You couldn't even buy the doorknob."

At that moment, the door opened again. A man in a sharp grey suit walked in, looking frantic. It was the Regional Director of the Thorne Real Estate division.

"Miss Thorne!" the man gasped, ignored Vera entirely, and bowed so low his forehead almost touched the floor. "I am so sorry I wasn't here to greet you. We received the transfer orders ten minutes ago."

Vera's face went from pale to a sickly shade of grey. "D-Director? What are you doing? Why are you bowing to this...his girl?"

The Director turned to Vera, his eyes blazing. "You fool! This is Aria Thorne. The only daughter of Samuel Thorne. The heiress to the entire Thorne Empire. And as of today, she is the sole owner of this boutique and the three blocks surrounding it."

The socialites in the corner gasped, one of them dropping her credit card in shock.

Aria walked toward Vera, who was now trembling so hard she had to lean against a mannequin for support.

"Vera" Aria said, her voice calm and terrifying. "You told me I didn't belong here. You were right. I don't belong in a store that employs someone as narrow minded and cruel as you."

"Miss Thorne... I... I didn't know! If I had known who you were..."

"That's the point, isn't it?" Aria interrupted. "You only treat people with dignity if you think they can do something for you. That's not luxury Vera. That's just being a bully."

Aria turned to the Director. "Fire her. Effective immediately. Ensure she is blacklisted from every luxury retail association in the country. If she wants to sell clothes, she can find a job at the thrift store she suggested I visit."

"No! Please!" Vera began to sob, but the security guards Aria had brought were already stepping forward to escort her out.

Aria then turned her gaze toward the socialites who had laughed earlier. They shrunk back, suddenly very interested in their shoes.

"As for the rest of you," Aria said, her voice echoing through the silent shop. "Enjoy your shopping. But remember...the help you look down on today might just be the person who owns your mortgage tomorrow."

Aria turned to the Director. "Clear the store. I want it closed for the day. I need a whole new wardrobe, and I don't want to share the air with people who smell like desperation and Botox."

"Of course, Miss Thorne! Right away!"

As the store was cleared, Aria sat in a velvet chair. A waiter appeared from the back, offering her a glass of vintage champagne. She took a sip, the bubbles sharp and sweet.

Her phone buzzed. It was a news alert: WOODS TECH STOCKS PLUMMET AS KEY BACKER WITHDRAWS.

Aria smiled. It was a beautiful day for a shopping spree.

The woman in the center, Chloe Sterling, was the daughter of a local steel magnate. She had been the loudest, her mocking laugh still echoing in Aria's ears. Now, her face was a map of terror. She knew exactly who the Thorne family was. Her father's business relied on shipping contracts controlled by Thorne subsidiaries. One word from the woman standing in front of her could turn her family's mansion into a foreclosure sign.

"Miss Thorne" Chloe stammered, stepping forward. Her voice, once sharp as a razor, was now thin and reedy. "I... I think there's been a terrible misunderstanding. We had no idea you were... well, that you were you."

Aria took a slow, deliberate sip of her champagne, her eyes never leaving Chloe's face. "A misunderstanding? You seemed quite understood when you were laughing at my five dollar bills. You seemed perfectly clear when you called me a tragic maid."

"We were just joking! It was the atmosphere!" another woman, a blonde named Melissa, chimed in, her hands shaking so much she dropped her designer clutch. "Vera told us you were just a troublemaker. We were just following her lead! We've always respected the Thorne family. In fact, my father has a portrait of your father in his study!"

Aria set the crystal glass down on a marble side table with a sharp clack. The sound made Melissa jump.

"Is that so?" Aria asked, her voice dangerously low. "So your respect is based on a portrait? Your kindness is reserved for people whose names are on buildings? What happens when you meet a woman who has nothing, Melissa? Does she deserve to be spat on?"

"No! Of course not!" Chloe cried out, her eyes welled with tears. She reached out as if to touch Aria's arm but pulled back when a Thorne security guard stepped forward, his hand resting on his holster. "Please, Miss Thorne. My father is in the middle of a major contract negotiation with the Thorne Group. If he finds out I offended you... he'll disown me. I'll be ruined."

Aria leaned in, the scent of her expensive new perfume a custom blend that cost more than Chloe's car overwhelming the socialite.

"You're worried about being ruined?" Aria whispered. "For three years, I lived in a world where people like you treated me like dirt under your heels. I watched you mock waitresses. I watched you belittle valets. You didn't do it because you were joking. You did it because it made you feel powerful to make others feel small."

Aria turned to the Boutique Director, who was waiting at a respectful distance.

"Director" Aria said loudly.

"Yes, Miss Thorne?"

"These three ladies... they seem to have very expensive taste. What is the value of the items they were planning to purchase today?"

The Director checked his tablet quickly. "Approximately four hundred thousand dollars in total, Miss Thorne."

Aria looked back at Chloe and Melissa. A flicker of hope appeared in their eyes. They thought she was going to let them buy their way out of this. They thought money could fix the insult.

"Good" Aria said. "Cancel their orders. In fact, I want their names added to the No Entry list for every Thorne owned property in the city. Malls, hotels, restaurants, and clubs. If they want to shop, they can do it online. They are no longer welcome in the world I inhabit."

Chloe's face went ghostly white. "You can't do that! That's half the city! We won't be able to go to the Charity Ball! We won't be able to eat at The Gilded Leaf!"

"You're right" Aria said, a cold, beautiful smile spreading across her lips. "You won't. You wanted to treat the world like your private playground. I'm just taking away your toys."

"Please" Melissa sobbed, actually dropping to her knees on the plush carpet. "My wedding is next month at the Thorne Plaza Hotel! I've already sent the invitations! You can't cancel my venue"

Aria looked down at the kneeling woman with a look of pure indifference. "Perhaps you can move the wedding to that thrift store Vera mentioned. I hear it has a very... rustic charm."

Aria turned her back on them, effectively erasing them from her reality. "Security, please show these former customers to the door. They're making the air feel... cheap."

The guards didn't hesitate. They gripped the women by their elbows and marched them out. The sounds of their frantic apologies and weeping faded as the heavy glass doors swung shut.

The boutique was suddenly peaceful. The Director bowed again. "Would you like to see the private collection now, Miss Thorne? We have a tiara that was recently recovered from a French estate. It would suit your... return to the throne."

Aria stood up, smoothed her cream colored blazer, and checked her reflection one last time. The woman staring back wasn't the broken housewife who had cried over burnt stew the night before.

"Not just the tiara" Aria said, her eyes flashing. "Bring me everything that Tiffany Ward has ever put on her 'wish list.' I want to buy every single piece. If she wants to look beautiful for her engagement to Mark, she'll have to do it in last season's rags."

As the staff scurried to fulfill her command, Aria's phone vibrated. It was a text from an unknown number.

Aria, it's Mark. Please pick up. We need to talk. There's been a mistake with the bank. I think your father is interfering with my business. Let's be adults about this. Call me.

Aria deleted the message without replying. She didn't need to talk to a dead man walking.

She turned to the Director. "One more thing. Send a gift to Mark Woods' office. Use the most expensive gift wrap you have."

"Of course, Miss Thorne. What is the gift?"

Aria smiled. "A single, silver-plated fork. And a note that says: 'For the man who didn't know which one to use.'"