[Third Person].
The boutique doors opened before Wanda even touched them. She was greeted with careful politeness, though not with the same warmth reserved for nobles.
Stormveil still remembered her name, especially given her recent philanthropism.
"Welcome, Miss Fellowes."
Wanda inclined her head and was led to the VIP section upstairs—velvet chairs, crystal glasses, and private attendants.
Wine was poured, and seasonal gowns were presented one after another. Wanda examined them lazily, saying only a little.
She wasn't really here for clothes. This was just a guise for a plan she was trying to execute smartly.
The door to the boutique opened again not long after, and Mabel Carter entered. "VIP," she said sharply to the attendant. "I don't sit downstairs."
The attendant hesitated only briefly before gesturing towards the same private room Wanda was in.
Mabel stepped in and froze for a second when she saw Wanda. Then a faint curl of disdain touched her lips.
