Elliot’s face turned pale.
“That’s a hell of a thing to say after fourteen years.”
Victor’s eyes filled slightly.
“I know.”
Naomi watched both men.
This was why she had not wanted to fire Elliot instantly.
People loved clean villains because clean villains protected everyone else.
One bad salesman.
Remove him.
Problem solved.
But institutions rarely became unfair because one person woke up and announced a philosophy of unfairness.
Bias survived because someone produced revenue.
Someone avoided confrontation.
Someone translated warning signs into softer words.
Someone said the customer was difficult.
Someone called disrespect exclusivity.
Someone said this is just how luxury works.
Naomi had not spent three hundred and eighty million dollars acquiring a company to replace one employee and declare victory.
She had bought Maison Bellamy because she believed it could become something better without losing what made it extraordinary.
Craft.
History.
Patience.
Beauty.
But heritage without examination was simply old behavior with expensive packaging.
She stood.
“We will finish this tomorrow.”
Elliot looked up.
“What happens tonight?”
“You go home.”
“Paid?”
“Yes.”
“Security escort?”
“No.”
“You expect me to just walk through the showroom after that?”
Naomi looked at him.
“Yes.”
His embarrassment flashed again.
She added:
“You are not under arrest.”
“You are not being publicly expelled.”
“You had a bad interaction witnessed by colleagues and clients.”
“Part of accountability is surviving the discomfort of being seen.”
Elliot looked toward the door.
Then back.
“I am sorry.”
Naomi studied him.
“I believe you’re sorry this happened.”
He flinched.
She continued.
“I don’t yet know whether you’re sorry for what you did.”
“That distinction is your work.”
Not hers.
His.
Elliot stood.
Victor opened the door.
Before leaving, Elliot stopped.
He looked toward Naomi.
“Was the necklace actually yours?”
Naomi looked at the black velvet case.
“Yes.”
He shook his head in disbelief.
“How much?”
Naomi smiled faintly.
“You still want to know whether you were financially wrong.”
He realized.
Then lowered his eyes.
“Good night, Ms. Carter.”
“Good night.”
After he left, Victor closed the door.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he sat heavily.
“I am deeply embarrassed.”
Naomi looked at him.
“Good.”
He raised his eyebrows.
She almost smiled.
“You should be.”
Victor exhaled.
“I suppose I deserved that.”
“This isn’t about deserving.”
“It’s about usefulness.”