The morning sun cast a brilliant glare across the polished marble floors of Veronica's Bridal Couture on Madison Avenue in New York City.
Racks of delicate lace and crystal-beaded silk lined the showroom, each gown costing more than a working-class family's annual mortgage payment.
A subtle American flag hung neatly beside the front window, fluttering slightly as the doors opened to the bustling city traffic outside.
Inside the luxury American bridal boutique, an atmosphere of absolute exclusivity and cold snobbery hung thick in the air.
Maya clutched a worn leather folder against her chest, her eyes wide as she gazed at a breathtaking ivory gown displayed on a velvet pedestal.
Maya: Excuse me... I'm looking for an appointment regarding a custom alteration for my wedding next month.
Veronica: Appointment? Let me look at your reference card, young lady.
Maya: My father said he called ahead to secure the deposit and confirm the fitting time.
Veronica: Your father? Honey, people who book with us don't carry torn folders or shop off the discount rack.
Maya: I just wanted to see the fabric up close before the formal paperwork was processed.
Veronica stepped forward, her expensive white designer suit rustling sharply as she invaded Maya's personal space.
Veronica: You don't belong in a boutique like this. People of your background ruin the ambiance for actual high-society clients.
Maya: Please, there's no need to speak to me that way. I'm leaving right now.
Veronica: Oh, you're leaving alright, but not before I teach you a lesson about knowing your place.
Maya's breathing turned shallow as Veronica raised a manicured hand and lunged forward with sudden, vicious malice.
Inside a luxury American bridal boutique with a subtle American flag displayed, a fair-skinned American woman in a white suit violently grabs another fair-skinned American woman by the hair, insulting her[cite: 1].
Veronica: Trash! You can't afford to look at that dress. Dream outside, not in my store![cite: 1]
Maya gasped in sudden pain as her head was yanked backward toward the gleaming marble floor.
Maya: Ah! Stop it! Please let go of my hair!
Veronica: Never step foot in my establishment again, you wretched little nobody!
With a harsh shove, Veronica released her grip, sending Maya stumbling backward into a rack of glass display ornaments.
Can anyone arrive in time to rescue the defenseless young woman from such brutal, humiliating cruelty?