Chapter 6 Stained Her Trench Coat

Sonya's brow furrowed as her gaze landed on Yelena. "Mom, why is Yelena here?"

Tatiana let out a sharp, derisive laugh. "She's probably here to stroke her vanity. Eyeing without buying, I'm sure."

"Isn't she from some backwater place? Why doesn't she just go back there? Does she still think she can just waltz back into our lives?"

"She wishes," Tatiana replied dismissively, waving her hand as though to brush the thought aside. "But I won't let that happen. Now, don't let her ruin our day. We're here to find you some fabulous new outfits." With that, Tatiana steered Sonya deeper into the Moda Style boutique, her focus shifting back to their shopping spree.

Sonya, however, wasn't ready to let the moment pass without taking her shot.

She turned abruptly and walked toward Yelena, her voice laced with mockery. "Yelena, what a surprise running into you here! Are you sure you're in the right place? Do you even know how much these clothes cost?"

Yelena paused mid-motion, her fingers lightly brushing the fabric of a dress she'd been considering. She never would have gone out should she know today would turn out like this!

"Can't you read? The prices are right there," Yelena said flatly, barely sparing Sonya a glance as she continued flipping through the rack.

"Oh, I see them just fine," Sonya replied, her lips curling into a sneer. "But honestly, Yelena, can you afford anything here? I mean, do you even have enough to eat these days?"

Yelena paused briefly but kept her focus on the clothes, refusing to rise to the bait.

Sonya's gaze flitted to Yelena's trench coat. Its sharp lines and understated elegance practically screamed exclusivity. A twinge of envy surged through her. She tightened her grip on her coffee cup, her mind suddenly whirring with mischief.

"Yelena," Sonya said, her voice taking on a mockingly sweet edge as she stepped closer. "I'm just trying to be kind. You know, looking out for you."

Before Yelena could react, Sonya's hand shot out, gripping her arm. The motion sent coffee splashing across the pristine white of Yelena's trench coat.

It wasn't just any coat. It was a one-of-a-kind piece, a gift from Donna and Callum.

Every stitch, every curve of the fabric, carried a memory of her parents' care and pride. It wasn't just clothing; it was a piece of her story, something she had poured herself into.

Yelena stared at the spreading blotches, her fingers brushing the fabric as if to convince herself it wasn't ruined.

That coat wasn't just a fashion statement-it was a piece of her. A symbol of her parents' love and a tangible result of her creative vision.

A large brown stain now spread across the once-pristine trench coat, its elegance now tarnished. Yelena stared at the mark, her expression unreadable, while Sonya stood a step back, her lips curling into a triumphant smirk.

"Oh no, Yelena!" Sonya gasped theatrically, pressing a hand to her chest. "I'm so sorry. Such a terrible accident."

Rummaging through her purse with exaggerated urgency, Sonya pulled out a crumpled bill. She flicked it dismissively toward Yelena, the money fluttering to the floor like discarded trash.

"Here," Sonya said, her tone laced with mock generosity. "Buy yourself a new coat-if that's even possible where you shop. Maybe there'll be enough left over for a latte at Starbucks."

Yelena's gaze lingered briefly on the fallen bill before returning to Sonya, calm and steady.

"Yelena, pride won't feed you, you know. Back in your little village, that must be a small fortune. Pick it up before someone else does."

Her sneer widened, but it faltered as Yelena remained unmoved, not even a flicker of indignation crossing her face. Then, without a word, Yelena reached out, her fingers curling around Sonya's half-empty coffee cup.

Sonya's smugness dissolved into stunned disbelief as the coffee splashed across her face.

The dark liquid smeared her foundation, streaked her mascara, and unmoored her false eyelashes, leaving her face a chaotic canvas of misplaced vanity.

"You-!"

Sonya sputtered, her voice high and shrill, anger and embarrassment warring in her expression. She glared at Yelena, her fists trembling as though she might launch herself forward.

At that precise moment, Tatiana returned, a small stack of fabric samples in her hands, only to freeze in the doorway, her eyes darting between Sonya and Yelena.

Tatiana stormed across the room, her composure unraveling with each step. Her voice cracked like a whip.

"Yelena, you ungrateful wretch! Have you completely lost your mind?"

Her fury radiated as she stood before Yelena, bristling at the insult to her daughter. She dropped her voice into a trembling, wounded tone. "Mom, I only tried to make amends. It was an accident-I offered her money, but she... she wouldn't let it go."

Tatiana's gaze darkened further as she turned her attention back to Yelena. She reached into her purse with dramatic flair, pulling out a crisp stack of bills. "Now that we have nothing to do with each other anymore, you can't squeeze money out of us! Here! Take this and leave. But hear me well-if you cause even the slightest trouble again, I'll have the police on you faster than you can blink."

Yelena didn't flinch. "That's not enough," she said, her voice as cold and unyielding as steel.

Tatiana's hand trembled with fury. Not enough? How dare she demand more!

"Do you know what brand this is?" she asked, her tone cool but razor-sharp. "This is a Moda Style limited edition coat. The cash you threw at me wouldn't even cover a few stitches of it."

Tatiana rolled her eyes, laughing disdainfully. "Limited edition? From you? You must think I'm a fool. Don't pretend your bargain-bin trash is designer. This is nothing but a pathetic attempt at blackmail."

Yelena tilted her head slightly, her calm demeanor only fueling Tatiana's frustration. "We're in Moda Style," she said simply, gesturing to their surroundings. "Verification is just a conversation away."

"Fine!" Tatiana snapped. "Let's verify it and put an end to this ridiculous charade."

Before long, a sales associate was summoned. She examined the coat with practiced precision, her fingers tracing the fabric and label. "This trench coat is indeed a Moda Style limited edition. It's unique-one of a kind-and among our most exclusive designs."

The sales associate's tone was steady as she delivered the final blow. "Additionally, given the delicate nature of the materials, this stain will require professional cleaning at our facility."

Tatiana and Sonya froze, their confidence unraveling. The coat was genuine-there was no denying it now.

Tatiana, eager to brush the matter aside, waved dismissively. "Fine. It's just cleaning. Put it on my card. I don't have time for this nonsense." She thrust her card toward the associate with an air of irritation, her impatience palpable.

The sales associate took the card and stepped away to process the payment. A few moments passed, and then another, until she returned with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, ma'am. The card has insufficient funds."

Tatiana blinked, the words not fully registering. "What? She snatched the card back, glaring at it as though the problem lay in its surface. "There should be over a hundred thousand in that account! Are you seriously telling me that's not enough to clean a coat?"

The sales associate's professionalism didn't waver. "I'm afraid not, ma'am. The cleaning fee for this specific item is two hundred thousand."

"Two hundred thousand?" Tatiana's voice rose in disbelief, her words sharp enough to turn heads in the store. "For cleaning?"

Sonya, her face flushed with indignation, stepped forward. "This is outrageous! Some kind of scam, no doubt!"

The sales associate met Sonya's glare with calm authority. "Our pricing is transparent, ma'am. The materials require specialized care, hence the price; and rest assured that we'll provide an official invoice to confirm the charges."

Tatiana's face darkened, her anger seeping through her controlled exterior.

Yelena's voice remained steady, but a sharp edge sliced through her calm tone. "What's wrong? Struggling with the cleaning fee? If two hundred thousand is too much, there's always another option." She paused, her gaze cold and unrelenting. "Get down on your knees and bark like a dog. Do that, and maybe-just maybe-I'll consider waiving the fee."

Tatiana's face turned crimson, her fury bubbling over. "How dare you? Do you think we're as destitute as you are? Two hundred thousand is nothing to us!"

Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone and dialed Jonathan, the one person she trusted to untangle this mess.

The line connected almost instantly, but instead of the calm reassurance she expected, Jonathan's voice roared through the receiver. "Where the hell are you two? Get back here immediately. Something's happened!"

Tatiana froze, her blood running cold. The sheer urgency in his tone struck her like a thunderclap. Her grip on the phone faltered, and she barely caught it before it slipped from her hand.

Something had happened? What could that be?