SHATTERED AND TEMPTED
But what I was looking at now was a sea of luxury.
There were rolls of fabric stacked high—not just a few, but dozens. I recognized the distinctive sheen of Mikano silk, the intricate weight of French Chantilly lace, and the unmistakable texture of Italian brocade. My eyes scanned the rows: ten, twenty, forty... there had to be at least fifty rolls of the most expensive material on the market just sitting there, under the LED track lights.
I stopped mid-way, my heart hammering against my ribs. I looked back at Gladys, my breath catching in my throat.