The Billionaire's Pretend Wife (Isabella)

Chapter 27 Twenty Seven

When the assistant took back the shirt, Isabelle turned and headed towards where the two were

standing. They stopped talking when they saw her approaching, but unfortunately for them, she had

already heard everything. This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Excuse me, can you please stop mocking us? We came here to shop and it’s quite unpleasant when

you two are standing here making insulting remarks.”

The two exchanged a look, and then faced her. One of them frowned. “I’m sorry, what are you talking

about?” She asked that with a confused expression, as if she truly had no idea what Isabelle was

talking about.

“I could hear you two clearly,” Isabelle told them, “so don’t bother acting like you don’t know what I’m

talking about. Is this how you treat customers here?”

“Customers are people who buy clothes here,” the other one said, not interested in playing pretend like

her coworker. “You two are obviously just here to waste everybody’s time. Look around and ask

yourself if this looks like a store you should be in.”

Isabelle clenched her hands and took a step forward, but a firm hand clasped around her arm, keeping

her in place. She looked up to find Jacob beside her, his furious gaze on the two assistants.

“Apologise to my wife right away,” he ordered the assistants. His aura was threatening, like he wasn’t

going to back off until they apologised.

“You and your wife are interrupting business,” the first assistant said, raising her voice. “Please leave

before we call security.”

“How exactly are we doing that?” Isabelle demanded. “We came here to shop, like everybody else.”

The assistant gestured to her clothes. “Look at yourselves. It’s obvious you cannot afford anything in

this store. It’s fine if you came to window-shop, but do you have to waste our time waiting on you? If

other customers see you two in here, they might refuse to shop here anymore. With people like you

here, it looks like a common shop.”

Isabelle scoffed, amazed at their shameless accusations. “Is it your habit to look down on customers,

or is this how you people run business here?”

“What is going on here?” a new voice joined the melee. It was a man dressed in a staff uniform like the

others, but his tag read Manager.

“These two walked in and started bothering everyone,” the second assistant replied. “They can’t buy

anything but have been harassing us for minutes now.”

“That’s not true!” Isabelle claimed when the manager turned to them. “We were looking through our

options, but it appears that the staff isn’t willing to be helpful.”

The manager looked at her, gave her a once-over, and did the same to Jacob. “I think you two should

leave, you’re in the wrong store.”

Isabelle’s jaw fell as the manager spoke. She had expected him to pay attention to their plight and help

them along, or at least make an effort to find out how the entire situation had developed. Instead, he

seemed to not be any different from the assistants. “How are we in the wrong store?” she asked, not

willing to back down when these people were treating them so poorly.

“If you don’t intend to buy anything, leave or I’ll call security. My staff are busy and we don’t need idlers

like you two wasting our time.”

“Why would we come here if we don’t intend on buying anything? On what basis are you and your staff

labelling us idlers? And, aren’t you paid to wait on customers? So how exactly are we wasting your

time if this is the job you were hired to do?”

“You haven’t bought anything despite being in the store for a long time, I think your intentions are

clear,” the manager countered.

“If nothing has pleased us, why should we buy anything?” Isabelle demanded. “We’d only been around

for five minutes before your staff began complaining. If your store has a time limit on how long

someone should spend shopping, you should make it public.”

Beside Isabelle, Jacob’s face darkened. He never could have expected that the service at the Larson

Group’s store was so poor. None of the staff were acting in a manner that represented the company’s

values, and he didn’t want to imagine the damage they caused to the group’s reputation.

He had brought Isabelle here hoping she would like the place and enjoy shopping, but the opposite

was happening.

He stepped up to the manager, getting in his space. The manager stepped back, intimidated by his

taller physique. That’s right, he should be afraid. “My wife and I have done nothing wrong, so you have

no right to drive us out.”

By then, other customers were beginning to notice the confrontation and were beginning to gather

around and listen. The manager looked around and realised that if this went on longer, word could get

out and ruin the reputation of the store.

“You are deliberately causing trouble in the store,” he said loudly, wanting others to hear and believe it

was the two who were at fault. “You’re threatening my staff and disturbing other shoppers, so we kindly

request you to leave.” Then he turned and beckoned to a security guard who had appeared at the

scene. “Escort them out.”

The shoppers who were now paying attention to the argument now looked at Isabelle and Jacob with

judging eyes, with some saying that they should be thrown out. Isabelle was enraged that the manager

had painted them as villains, to the extent of making false accusations against Jacob.

“My husband hasn’t threatened anyone!” she snapped at the manager, glaring at him. “All he did was

ask for the staff to treat us with courtesy. He didn’t say anything wrong.”

“Ma’am, you and your husband need to leave now,” the security guard said, making his way to Jacob.

His intention was to grab Jacob’s arm, but Isabelle stood between the two and glared at the guard, her

eyes daring him to throw them out. “We are not going anywhere until they apologise to my husband.”

“If you keep making a scene,” the manager said, “we’ll call the police!”

“Go ahead,” she dared, “and everyone will know how you treat customers who you look down on.” Her

eyes wandered towards another section of the store, where one customer sat on a sofa while three

attendants ran back and forth, bringing clothes to her. She dismissed some of them with a flick of her

wrist, and each time, they bowed respectfully and rushed off to bring her more options. The customer

had been there before she and Jacob arrived, and she was yet to hear anyone complain about her. It

was obvious why she was being treated like a queen while they were being thrown out–she was

wearing a designer dress, heels that must have cost as much as Isabelle’s college tuition, and was

adorned in diamond jewellery.

The security guard hesitated and took a step back. Jacob stood back, enjoying how Isabelle refused to

back down even when the manager threatened to call the police. But what made him really happy was

the fact that she was standing up for him, and even calling him her husband.

He had seen her defending herself vehemently on the few occasions he had made the mistake of

making baseless accusations against her. But he had never thought that she would get the same way

on his behalf.

He felt that she truly cared about how the manager’s accusations affected him, and it warmed his heart.

It also made him more determined to make sure that the assistants and the manager regretted treating

her poorly.