Chapter 10 - Old Money, New Rules
Four LAPD detectives walked into the frame of Mia’s livestream.
"Mia Kensington," the lead detective said, his voice carrying over her expensive microphone to millions of viewers worldwide. "You are under arrest for grand theft, filing a false police report, and felony defamation."
"No! Turn it off!" Mia shrieked, lunging for her phone. But an officer grabbed her wrists, pulling them behind her back.
"Turn the camera off!" she sobbed as the cold steel handcuffs clicked around her wrists.
The last image the internet saw of Mia Kensington was her mascara running down her face, screaming in terror as she was dragged out of her rented penthouse. Then, Jax reached out and the screen went black.
Two days later.
The Atelier Vancour was closed to the public for a private event. The boutique was dead silent, save for the soft clinking of champagne glasses.
Clara Sterling stood near the window, looking out at Rodeo Drive. The criminal charges against her had been dropped entirely with a public apology from the Chief of Police. Mia Kensington was sitting in a county jail cell; her bail set at $2 million—money she absolutely did not have, now that her assets were frozen by Clara’s lawsuit.
Monsieur Laurent approached Clara, bowing deeply. He was trembling. "Madame Sterling... I cannot express my deepest apologies. To think you own the building now... we are at your mercy."
"Relax, Laurent," Clara said, taking a sip of her champagne. "Your lease is secure. Just ensure your staff is better trained in the future."
Clara’s husband, Richard, a distinguished man with silver hair, walked up beside her. He wrapped his arms around her waist. "You know, darling, for my fiftieth birthday, I would have settled for a nice dinner. You didn't have to break the internet."
Clara smiled, a genuine, warm smile. She reached into her tailored blazer and pulled out a small velvet box. She popped it open.
Inside rested the Vancour Celestial.
"I told you I was going to get you something unforgettable," Clara said, slipping the platinum watch onto her husband’s wrist. It fit perfectly.
She looked out the window, watching the influencers and tourists snapping selfies on the street below, desperate for an ounce of attention.
May you like
Clara leaned her head against her husband's shoulder. She had reminded the world of a fundamental, timeless truth. Fake clout screams for the camera, begging to be seen. But true power?
True power simply watches, waits, and owns the camera entirely.
