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The Masked Heiress: Don't Mess With Her

Chapter 6 Stained Her Trench Coat

Word Count: 1499    |    Released on: Today at 10:58

er gaze landed on Yelena.

. "She's probably here to stroke her va

sn't she just go back there? Does she still t

let that happen. Now, don't let her ruin our day. We're here to find you some fabulous new outfits." With tha

ady to let the moment pas

kery. "Yelena, what a surprise running into you here! Are you sure you

fabric of a dress she'd been considering. She never would h

Yelena said flatly, barely sparing Sonya a gla

into a sneer. "But honestly, Yelena, can you afford anythi

t her focus on the clothes, r

egance practically screamed exclusivity. A twinge of envy surged through her. Sh

ngly sweet edge as she stepped closer. "I'm just

gripping her arm. The motion sent coffee splashing

was a one-of-a-kind piece, a

her parents' care and pride. It wasn't just clothing; it was

, her fingers brushing the fabric as if

s a piece of her. A symbol of her parents' love

legance now tarnished. Yelena stared at the mark, her expression unreadabl

ally, pressing a hand to her chest. "I

lled out a crumpled bill. She flicked it dismissively toward Y

yourself a new coat-if that's even possible where you shop.

on the fallen bill before retur

in your little village, that must be a small

a flicker of indignation crossing her face. Then, without a word, Yelena

o stunned disbelief as the cof

er mascara, and unmoored her false eyelashes, leav

ou

assment warring in her expression. She glared at Yelena, her

k of fabric samples in her hands, only to freeze in th

r composure unraveling with each st

l wretch! Have you com

er. She dropped her voice into a trembling, wounded tone. "Mom, I only tried to mak

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 t

t enough," she said, her voice a

with fury. Not enough? H

razor-sharp. "This is a Moda Style limited edition coat. The

om you? You must think I'm a fool. Don't pretend your bargain-bin tr

iana's frustration. "We're in Moda Style," she said simply, gesturi

t's verify it and put an end

cision, her fingers tracing the fabric and label. "This trench coat is indeed a Moda

blow. "Additionally, given the delicate nature of the materials

fidence unraveling. The coat was g

cleaning. Put it on my card. I don't have time for this nonsense." She thrust h

t. A few moments passed, and then another, until she returned with an ap

aring at it as though the problem lay in its surface. "There should be over a hundred t

ver. "I'm afraid not, ma'am. The cleaning fee f

ose in disbelief, her words sharp enough

tion, stepped forward. "This is outr

ansparent, ma'am. The materials require specialized care, hence the price; an

her anger seeping through

leaning fee? If two hundred thousand is too much, there's always another option." She paused, her gaze cold and unr

er. "How dare you? Do you think we're as destitute

phone and dialed Jonathan, the one per

ce she expected, Jonathan's voice roared through the receiver. "Where

tone struck her like a thunderclap. Her grip on the phone falt

happened? What

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