That’s when Patricia had completely lost it. Her voice had risen to a shriek that could probably have been heard three stores down. “She’s a thief and doesn’t belong here. Get her out or you’re both fired.” The word fired had seemed to echo through the store. Patricia had just threatened to fire two employees for refusing to remove a customer who hadn’t committed any crime other than asking to buy expensive jewelry while being Black.
Diana’s composure, which had held steady through fifteen minutes of microaggressions and outright discrimination, had finally cracked. Not into rage, but into something far more dangerous. Cold, calculated fury. “You want to talk about firing people?” Diana had asked, her voice so quiet that everyone in the store had leaned forward to hear her.
Diana had pulled out her phone, but her hands had been shaking then, not with fear, but with the kind of rage that came from years of being underestimated, dismissed, and discriminated against. The rage of a woman who had built an empire from nothing, only to watch an employee destroy everything she had worked for in the span of thirty minutes. “Don’t you dare record this!” Patricia had screamed, now completely hysterical.
Diana had looked up from her phone with eyes that could have cut glass. “I’m not recording,” she had said in a voice that was deadly calm. “I’m calling my board of directors.” For the first time since this confrontation had begun, Patricia had looked genuinely confused. “Your what?” Diana’s fingers had moved across her phone screen as she dialed a number she knew by heart.
When someone had answered, her voice had been crisp and professional, the voice of someone who is used to being obeyed without question. “Sarah, it’s Diana Mitchell. Emergency board meeting. Now.” Patricia had caught the name Diana Mitchell. And something had tugged at the back of her memory. She had heard that name before, but where? In her panic and rage, she hadn’t been able to quite place it.
But across the store, Ashley Chen had gone white as a sheet. She had been frantically scrolling through something on her phone, her eyes getting wider and wider with each second that passed. Suddenly, she had gasped so loudly that several customers had turned to look at her. Kevin Torres had been watching Diana carefully throughout this entire confrontation, and something about her bearing, her confidence, her knowledge of jewelry had been nagging at him.
When he had heard the name Diana Mitchell and had seen Ashley’s reaction, the pieces had finally clicked into place. The color had drained from his face as he had realized exactly who they were dealing with. Diana had continued her phone conversation, her voice carrying clearly through the now silent store. “Yes, I’m at the Beverly Hills location. We have a serious problem.”
The way she had said Beverly Hills location, not the Beverly Hills store or a store in Beverly Hills, but the Beverly Hills location, had implied ownership, had implied authority, had implied that she had the right to call emergency board meetings about what happened in that store. Patricia had still been standing there, mouth open, trying to process what she was hearing.