THE DISABLED HEIRESS, MY EX-HUSBAND WOULD PAY DEARLY.

Chapter 398: Chapter 398

Behind her, Penelope’s jaw had tightened so severely it looked painful.

Her fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms hard enough to leave marks, and her entire posture radiated a tension that was barely contained beneath the surface of her composed exterior.

One of her companions - a woman named Naomi, elegant and sharp-featured and used to moving in circles where status was currency - leaned closer and spoke in a low voice that was meant to be private but carried just far enough to be overheard.

"Do you know her?" Naomi asked, her eyes moving between Penelope’s rigid expression and Cora’s figure near the entrance. "Do you actually know this person? Because it seems like you do. What the hell is going on here, and why are they treating her this way?"

Penelope did not answer immediately.

Could not answer, really, because any response she gave would require admitting things she had spent considerable effort avoiding.

Admitting that yes, she knew Cora. That they had history. That Cora was someone she had dismissed and looked down on and treated as irrelevant - and that somehow, impossibly, Cora was now standing in this room being treated with a level of priority and respect that Penelope herself had never received despite all her family’s wealth and connections.

Serena - the third member of their group, quieter than Naomi but no less perceptive - spoke up as well, her voice carrying genuine confusion.

"Penelope, what is happening? Who is she?"

Still, Penelope said nothing.

Because this was not just confusing.

This was not just unexpected.

This was a *disgrace*.

A public, undeniable, witnessed-by-people-who-mattered disgrace that was unfolding in real time and that she had no idea how to stop or explain or mitigate.

If word got out - and it would, because Naomi and Serena were not people who kept quiet about things this interesting - that Penelope had been in the VIP section of Everything Luxury and had been *evacuated* to make room for Cora, of all people? That Cora - the girl Penelope had spent years positioning herself above - had walked in and received treatment that made Penelope look secondary by comparison?

That would damage her reputation in ways that would take months to repair.

And it was not just her reputation.

It was her fiancé’s reputation too. Because if she looked weak or diminished or socially irrelevant, that reflected on him. On his family. On the merger of influence and status that their marriage was supposed to represent.

This was not just embarrassing.

This was potentially catastrophic.

And she had absolutely no idea how to respond.

For that moment in time, Penelope remained frozen in place - visibly locked in shock, her body rigid and her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and barely suppressed fury as her brain continued struggling to process what was unfolding in front of her.

One of the staff members - a younger woman who had been standing near the periphery during the earlier exchange - stepped forward deliberately and moved closer to where Penelope was standing. Her expression was polite but firm, carrying the particular kind of professional resolve that comes from having been given clear instructions and understanding that those instructions were non-negotiable.

"Miss," she said, her voice calm but direct, "you need to leave now. As I explained earlier, this space has been completely booked. Exclusively. No other customers should be here during this appointment. Please exit the VIP section immediately."

Before Penelope could formulate a response - before she could gather her thoughts enough to mount any kind of argument or assertion of her own importance - the door to the VIP section swung open again.

And this time, what came through was impossible to ignore.

More staff members entered - at least six of them, moving in coordinated pairs - and every single one of them was carrying large, pristine boxes. The kind of boxes that high-end retailers use for their most valuable inventory. White or cream-colored, embossed with subtle branding, sealed with elegant ribbons or magnetic closures that spoke to the quality of what was inside.

Clothing boxes. Accessory boxes. Shoe boxes stacked carefully in the arms of staff members who moved with the practiced care of people handling merchandise that was both expensive and exclusive.

And the moment those boxes came into view - the moment their sheer number and their obvious newness registered - everyone in the room who was not already bowing to Cora understood immediately what they were looking at.

New arrivals.

Not just one or two pieces. Not a curated selection pulled from existing inventory. This was a *collection* - dozens of items, maybe more, all fresh and unworn and clearly just delivered to the store within the last few hours.

The kind of merchandise that would normally be unveiled slowly over the course of weeks, shown to preferred customers in carefully managed appointments, held back strategically to maintain exclusivity and demand.

And it was all being brought out right now. For Cora.

Naomi’s voice cut through the stunned silence, high-pitched and incredulous.

"What the hell is going on?" she said, her eyes wide as she watched the staff members moving through the space with their armloads of boxes. "Are those - are those *new arrivals*? Those look like new arrivals. Brand new. Unsealed."

She turned sharply toward Serena, who was staring at the boxes with an expression that mirrored her own shock.

"Are you seeing this?" Naomi continued, her voice rising. "New arrivals were here - *here*, in this store, right now - and we did not get access to any of them? They are asking us to leave while there is new inventory sitting right in front of us?"

Serena shook her head slowly, her gaze moving from the boxes to Cora and then back again as though trying to trace the logic that connected those two points.

"Is *she* the one who is going to unbox them?" Serena asked, her tone somewhere between disbelief and outrage. "Is that what is happening here? They cleared the entire VIP section so she could have first access to new arrivals before anyone else even knows they exist?"

Neither of them directed the question at anyone in particular, but the answer was written clearly in the way the staff was moving - the boxes being set down carefully on display tables near where Cora was standing, the way the senior staff member was already gesturing toward them with obvious pride, the complete lack of acknowledgment toward anyone else in the room.

Penelope stood there, rooted in place, her mind spinning.