The showroom fell deathly silent, save for the rhythmic, deafening blare of the red Ferrari’s alarm.
Marcus, the general manager, was practically folded in half. Sweat darkened the collar of his tailored blue suit as he bowed deeply before the older woman.
“Mrs. Sterling,” Marcus choked out, his voice trembling. “I—I had no idea you were coming.”
Behind him, Chloe, the blonde saleswoman who had just slapped the woman’s hand, crossed her arms. “Marcus! Why are you apologizing to this—”
Marcus whipped around, his face completely bloodless. “Shut your mouth, Chloe! She doesn’t just own the dealership. She owns the holding group. She owns the building. She owns the very marble you’re standing on!”
Chloe’s smug expression shattered. Her jaw unhinged in absolute horror as the sheer weight of her mistake crashed over her.
Mrs. Sterling calmly lowered her phone and adjusted her pearl necklace. She didn’t yell. True power never has to.
“I flew in quietly today,” Mrs. Sterling said, her voice smooth but laced with absolute zero ice. “I wanted to see how my top-tier branch treats people when they think no one important is watching. It seems your luxury experience is built on cheap arrogance.”
Chloe stammered, physically shrinking backward. “Ma’am, please, I thought—”
“You thought I didn’t belong,” Mrs. Sterling interrupted. She calmly bent down and scooped up the dropped Ferrari key from the floor. She pressed a silver button on the fob.
*Chirp.* The roaring car alarm instantly silenced.
“This isn’t inventory, Chloe. I had it shipped here from Milan yesterday,” Mrs. Sterling smiled faintly. “You just assaulted me for touching *my own car*.”
Marcus swallowed hard. “How can we fix this, Mrs. Sterling?”
“You can’t,” she replied smoothly. “Marcus, you’re fired for fostering a toxic culture. Chloe? You’re not fired.”
Chloe blinked, a desperate glimmer of hope returning to her eyes.
“No,” Mrs. Sterling whispered, turning her back to them and opening the Ferrari’s door. “You’re being reassigned to the wash bay. Enjoy the minimum wage. If you want to judge people based on their clothes, you can start by wearing a janitor’s uniform.”