The stylists were dismissed before they could speak.Lillian stood in the doorway of the dressing room, one hand resting lightly against the frame, posture calm but immovable. The women inside paused mid preparation, hangers lifted, tablets open, expressions hovering between confusion and offense.“Thank you,” Lillian said evenly. “I won’t need assistance today.”There was a beat of silence.One of them recovered first. “Of course. We were just here in case—”“I know,” Lillian replied. “And I appreciate it. But this is mine.”The emphasis was gentle. Final.They left without argument.
Read More