With a warm, professional smile, the Hermès staff began their presentation, keenly aware of the discerning audience before them.
Felice Richardson and her entourage lounged in a private room of the store, sipping champagne from crystal flutes as they prepared to be dazzled by the latest creation from the world's most exclusive luxury brand.
"Good morning, everyone! Welco to Hermès. I won't take too much of your precious ti, so let's dive right in," the staff mber began, gesturing towards the opulent display case. "This is our newest limited edition bag — a true masterpiece valued at $4 million. Allow to share what makes this piece so extraordinary."
With delicate precision, the staff mber unlocked the glass case, lifting the bag with a reverence that bordered on ritualistic. The soft lighting in the room seed to intensify, casting a glow over the bag's exquisite features.
"First, the bag is crafted from the finest, ethically sourced materials. The leather — rare and exotic — was selected not just for its rarity, but for its flawless texture. Our master artisans spent countless hours ticulously hand-stitching every detail, ensuring that this bag is nothing short of perfection. It's not just an accessory; it's a work of art."
As they pointed out the intricate embellishnts, a sense of awe filled the room. "What truly sets this bag apart is the embellishnt. The hardware is crafted from solid 18-karat white gold, encrusted with over 1,000 flawless diamonds. Each stone was chosen for its exceptional clarity and brilliance, ensuring that this bag radiates luxury from every angle."
The staff mber opened the bag with a smooth, practiced motion, revealing its lavish interior. "The interior is lined with the softest, most exquisite leather, dyed using a secret process unique to Hermès. Of course, it cos with a bespoke Hermès lock and key, also made of white gold — adding both security and elegance."
Stepping back, the staff mber allowed the group to fully appreciate the bag's splendor. Every woman in the room leaned in, captivated by the sheer opulence on display — except for Felice.
Felice remained indifferent, her gaze cool and detached. She had amassed a collection of hundreds of limited edition bags, each more extravagant than the last.
This one, like the others, would be hers without a second thought — not because of its exceptional craftsmanship or rarity, but simply because she wanted it.
She never had to ask twice; the world simply bent to her will.
"Only a handful of these bags were ever made," the staff mber concluded. "Each one is numbered and registered, making it not just a fashion statent but a true collector's item. Owning this bag isn't rely about possession — it's about owning a piece of history, a symbol of tiless elegance, and an investnt in unparalleled luxury."
Felice's fingers grazed the glass, her expression unchanged. The bag was extraordinary, of course, but to her, it was just another addition to an already overwhelming collection.
She would purchase it — because why wouldn't she? The only real decision was how many to get.
"How many do you have?" Felice asked, her tone deceptively casual.
The staff exchanged uneasy glances. "I'm sorry, Miss Felice, but we have a strict policy — only one bag per custor."
Felice took a slow, deliberate sip of her champagne, savoring the taste. When she finally spoke, her voice was like ice. "I hate repeating myself, so listen carefully . . . how many do you have?"
Her friends, standing nearby, exchanged knowing smiles and stifled giggles. They knew the power Felice wielded, or more accurately, the influence her father commanded. Store policies ant nothing when it ca to Felice Richardson. The staff hesitated, their fear palpable.
"We . . . we have four bags in the store right now, Miss Felice," one of them finally admitted, voice trembling.
"Good. Wrap them all up," Felice ordered, her gaze sharp as she briefly glanced at the staff from beneath her thick lashes. That single look was enough to send them scurrying to fulfill her request.
Her friends imdiately sward her, vying for her attention, eager to be on her good side.
"Felice, who are you going to give those bags to?"
"My birthday's around the corner. Maybe you could gift one?"
"What are you talking about? I'm her best friend."
"Co on, you two, let's leave Felice alone. We can all afford it."
"No way! My father limited my credit card."
"He must've found out you've been ditching college. That's why."
"Shut up."
"I can't afford it right now. I maxed out my card, and Daddy refuses to pay it off. I'll have to wait until next month, but by then, that bag will be sold out everywhere."
Felice barely listened to her friends' whining, uninterested in their petty problems, until one of them giggled, drawing everyone's attention.
"What are you laughing at?"
"Yeah, you've been glued to your phone since we got here."
"What's so amusing?"
The girl who had giggled showed her friends her phone. On the screen was a handso man dancing in the park, effortlessly styling his hair mid-move. "This is C.C., my new obsession."
"Is that for real? He's dancing and styling his hair at the sa ti?" one of the girls laughed.
"He's handso, but co on, Claire. That guy's just a content creator with barely a million followers. Do you really want a man who's dancing for every woman on the internet to see as your boyfriend?"
"Even if he's cute, I doubt he could afford our lifestyle."
Claire pouted. "What's wrong with admiring a guy like this? It's just fun. It's not like I'm going to make him my boyfriend or anything."
As they chattered away, Felice's attention was caught. Wasn't that the guy from Daddy's Salon? The one who styled my father's hair?
Curiosity piqued, Felice looked him up on InstaPic and BuzzVid, and sure enough, it was C.C. The sa guy.
Hmm . . . Felice randomly played one of his videos, and it didn't take long for her to get hooked on his dance moves. She'd seen n dance before — so were more professional, others were more handso — but for so reason, she couldn't take her eyes off him.
There was sothing about him, a charisma and charm unlike any other, that pulled her in. His good looks were just the icing on the cake.
Felice placed her phone over her luscious red lips, a small smile stretching across her face. She was bored right now, and it seed she had just found the perfect man to toy with for the ti being.
=== ⭐ ===
|| A/N ||
Hey Everyone,
First off, a huge thank you for all the love and support you've shown for the story so far!
We'll be going premium with the next chapter. I hope you'll continue to join on this journey as we dive even deeper into the world of idols.
To show my appreciation, I'll be rolling out so bonus content:
Every 10 Reviews (no throttling) =1 Bonus Chapter
Every 100 Power Stones =1 Bonus Chapter
Every 50 Golden Tickets =1 Bonus Chapter
Every Super Gift =1 Bonus Chapter
Bonus chapters will be released on the sa day alongside the 2 regular chapters. If we hit multiple goals, I'll release up to 4 chapters in a day, with any extra bonus chapters rolling over to the next day.
Thanks again for your incredible support. Let's keep this story going strong! 🤍🙏
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