REGIONAL DIRECTOR: "I did not say it did. I am asking because we need to be prepared for the possibility of a complaint."
DAVID: "We should be prepared for a complaint regardless of who the customer is."
REGIONAL DIRECTOR: "Agreed. Send me the incident report and preserve every relevant record. Do not make any promises about the outcome, and do not discuss the incident publicly."
DAVID: "Understood."
The call ended. David sat quietly for a moment, considering the conversation. He had expected the regional director to ask about the customer's identity, but he was relieved that the instruction had been clear: preserve the evidence, document the facts, and follow the procedure.
Still, the Blake name carried weight in the business world. Victoria's father, Richard Blake, had built a large investment group with interests in commercial property, hospitality, and luxury retail. His company had partnered with several prominent brands, and his name appeared regularly in business publications. The family was known for its influence, its expensive properties, and its carefully managed public image.
David had never met Richard Blake personally, but he had seen him at industry events. He knew that a family with that level of influence could create considerable pressure for a company, even when the evidence was straightforward.
He also knew that allowing such pressure to determine the outcome would damage the trust of every employee who had watched the incident unfold.
For the rest of the afternoon, the boutique returned slowly to its usual rhythm. Customers resumed browsing, sales associates reorganized the displays, and the assistant supervisor completed the inventory checks that had been interrupted. Natalie spent some time in the stockroom, where she could work without facing a line of customers or answering questions about the incident.
She checked the product labels, reviewed the inventory list, and tried to focus on routine tasks. Every so often, she caught herself replaying the moment of the slap. She remembered Victoria's expression, the sudden movement of her hand, and the shock of realizing that a customer had actually hit her.
She had been angry at first, then frightened, then determined not to let the situation become a contest of who could shout the loudest. Now that the immediate confrontation was over, she felt the exhaustion that had been held back by the need to stay alert.
At around four o'clock, David came to the stockroom.
DAVID: "How are you feeling?"
NATALIE: "A little better. Still shaken, but better."
DAVID: "That makes sense."
NATALIE: "Did the regional office say anything else?"
DAVID: "They have received my initial report. They have asked us to preserve the footage and wait for the appropriate review. No one has asked me to change your statement or remove anything from the report."
NATALIE: "I was worried that they might."
DAVID: "If anyone asks you to change a statement that accurately reflects what happened, tell me. The report needs to be factual."
NATALIE: "I appreciate that."
DAVID: "I also want to make sure you understand something. You are not expected to apologize for following the reservation policy. If a customer complains, we will review the complaint. But the policy was clear, and you offered alternatives."
Natalie nodded. She felt some of the tension in her shoulders begin to ease.
NATALIE: "I kept thinking that if I had just given her what she wanted, none of this would have happened."
DAVID: "That would have created a different problem. The handbag was reserved for another customer who had already paid a deposit. You would have been expected to violate that reservation, and the other customer would have had every reason to complain."
NATALIE: "I know."
DAVID: "You cannot control another person's decision to become aggressive. You can control whether you follow the procedure and report what happened. You did both."
He returned to the office, leaving Natalie with a sense that the company might genuinely support her rather than quietly asking her to forget the incident.
But outside the boutique, Victoria Blake was already telling a different story.
She had gone directly to her car, where her driver was waiting. The moment she sat down, she removed her sunglasses and threw them onto the seat beside her.
VICTORIA: "Take me home."
DRIVER: "Of course, Ms. Blake."
He glanced at her in the rearview mirror but did not ask questions. He had worked for the family long enough to recognize the signs of a bad mood. Victoria's voice was clipped, and her face was flushed with anger. She opened her phone and began calling people before the car had even left the parking area.
Her first call was to a friend who had accompanied her on shopping trips in the past.