Beggar Husband is now a Quadrillionaire Heir

Chapter 7

Joshua's hands clenched into fists. Harold Brennan's arrogant, sneering face made his blood boil, but before he could respond, the young sales assistant who had been standing nervously nearby finally spoke up.

"Mr. Brennan, please." Her voice trembled slightly. "This gentleman is actually a customer of our store. I personally witnessed Ms. Sterling bring him in just a few minutes ago."

Harold's face twisted with skepticism. "Ms. Sterling? You mean Monica Sterling?"

"Yes, sir. She's one of our most important clients, and she specifically escorted this gentleman—"

"Oh, this is precious!" The blonde woman's shrill laugh cut through the assistant's explanation. "Let me guess what's really going on here. This is your broke boyfriend, isn't it? You brought him in on your employee discount, hoping he could steal something expensive when nobody's looking!"

The sales assistant's face went white. "What? No! I've never seen him before today! I'm just saying that Ms. Sterling—"

"Ms. Sterling would never associate with trash like that," the blonde sneered, gesturing at Joshua with one jeweled finger. "Look at him! He probably doesn't even know how to spell 'Laurent,' let alone shop here!"

"That's enough, Amanda." A new voice cut through the commotion—sharp, authoritative, and cold.

A middle-aged woman emerged from the back office, her designer dress immaculate, her gray hair swept into a severe bun. Her name tag identified her as "Victoria Walsh - Store Manager." She surveyed the scene with narrowed eyes, her gaze landing on Joshua with immediate disapproval.

"Ms. Walsh!" the sales assistant said desperately. "I can explain—"

"I don't need explanations. I can see what's happening perfectly clearly." Victoria's voice was ice. "You brought your boyfriend into this establishment during work hours, violating company policy and disturbing our valued customers."

"He's not my boyfriend! I told you, Ms. Sterling brought him—"

"Enough lies." Victoria stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply against the marble. "You will apologize to Mr. Brennan and his guest immediately. Then you will escort your friend out of this store, or I will call the police and have both of you arrested for trespassing and attempted theft."

"Attempted theft?" Joshua's voice was dangerously quiet. "I haven't touched anything."

"Yet," Harold said smugly. "The key word is yet. You were probably casing the place, figuring out what you could shove in your pockets."

The blonde cackled. "He looks like the type who'd steal the hangers too!"

The young sales assistant's eyes filled with tears. "Ms. Walsh, please listen to me. I'm telling the truth. Ms. Sterling personally—"

"I don't want to hear another word about Ms. Sterling," Victoria snapped. "You're using her name to cover your own misconduct, and it's disgusting."

Joshua had heard enough. His hand went to his pocket, pulling out the matte black card Monica had given him. He held it up, his voice cold and controlled. "Do I really look like someone who needs to steal from this place?"

The boutique went silent. The black card gleamed under the lights, elegant and understated in its simplicity.

Then Harold burst into laughter. "A black card? Oh, that's good! That's really good!"

Victoria's lips curled into a condescending smile. She reached out and snatched the card from Joshua's hand, examining it with theatrical skepticism. "This? This is the most obvious fake I've ever seen. Did you buy this on the internet? What did it cost you, twenty dollars?"

"It's not fake," Joshua said through gritted teeth.

"Of course it's fake." Victoria held the card up to the light, then, with deliberate malice, threw it onto the marble floor. The card clattered and skidded across the polished surface. "Security! I need two guards up here immediately. We have an imposter attempting to defraud the store with counterfeit credentials."

"You can't be serious," Joshua said, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage.

"Oh, I'm deadly serious." Victoria pulled out her phone. "And if security doesn't get you out of here, the police will."

"Finally!" the blonde woman clapped her hands together. "Someone with some sense! Throw this garbage out where it belongs!"

Harold smirked. "Should've stayed in whatever gutter you crawled out of, buddy."

"What is the meaning of this?"

The voice that rang out was cultured, refined, and absolutely furious. Everyone's head snapped toward the sound.

Monica Sterling stood in the entrance to the private fitting area, and beside her was a small, immaculately dressed elderly man with wire-rimmed glasses and a perfectly trimmed white beard. His suit was a work of art, and he radiated the kind of authority that came from decades at the top of his profession.

George Laurent. The designer himself.

"Master George!" Victoria's demeanor changed instantly. She bowed so low she was nearly folded in half. "What an unexpected honor! I didn't know you were—"

"Silence!" George's voice cracked like a whip. His eyes blazed as he took in the scene—Joshua standing alone, his black card on the floor, security guards approaching. "Stop this at once!"

Victoria straightened, confusion flickering across her face. "Master George, I was simply dealing with an imposter who—"

"You dare!" George's face flushed red with rage. "You dare to slander this gentleman in my presence?"

"I don't understand," Victoria stammered. "He's clearly—"

George didn't let her finish. He turned to Joshua, and to everyone's absolute shock, the legendary designer bowed deeply from the waist—a gesture of profound respect.

"Mr. Hart," George said, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "Please accept my sincerest apologies for this disgraceful treatment. This is inexcusable."

The boutique froze. Harold's mouth fell open. The blonde's eyes widened so much her fake eyelashes nearly touched her eyebrows. Victoria looked like she'd been struck by lightning.

The young sales assistant was the only one who didn't look surprised—she looked vindicated.

Monica Sterling stepped forward, her expression carved from ice. She picked up Joshua's black card from the floor, carefully wiping it clean before returning it to him.

Then she turned to face Victoria, Harold, and the blonde woman with the kind of cold fury that could freeze fire.

"Victoria Walsh," Monica said, her voice quiet but lethal. "You're terminated. Effective immediately. Security will escort you from the premises within five minutes."

Victoria's face went from pale to gray. "You can't—who do you think you—"

"Mr. Harold Brennan," Monica continued, ignoring Victoria completely. "Your VIP privileges are permanently revoked. You are hereby banned from every Laurent boutique worldwide. You will be added to our global blacklist."

"Now wait just a damn minute!" Harold's face turned purple. "You can't do that! Do you have any idea how much money I spend here? I have connections! I'll have your job!"

"On what grounds?" Harold sputtered, his confidence finally cracking. "You can't just blacklist a customer because—"

Monica's smile was razor-sharp and utterly without warmth.

"Because the person you just insulted, humiliated, and accused of being a thief—" she gestured elegantly toward Joshua, "—is the owner of this store. And every other Laurent boutique in this country. Mr. Joshua Hart owns this entire building. He owns this entire company."

The silence that followed was absolute.