The lobby froze when receptionist Tessa Ward jabbed a finger at the black woman who had quietly stepped inside. You can't be in here, she snapped. This showroom is for real buyers. Before anyone reacted, Tessa grabbed a brochure and tossed it at her feet. Low-income listings are that way.

Don't waste our time. Agents smirked. One filmed. Another called security. But the woman didn't move.

She opened her bag, pulled out one document, and every face drained. They hadn't insulted a stranger. They'd humiliated the CEO who owned the entire company. The glass doors of Sterling Horizon Realty slid open with a soft chime as Dr. Camille Royce stepped inside.

She carried nothing flashy, no jewelry, no designer bag, no entourage. Just a slim folder tucked under her arm and a calm expression that made her look like any ordinary visitor. That was intentional. Today, the CEO of the entire multi-billion-dollar real estate empire had come undercover to see how clients were treated when no one knew who they were. She barely made it 10 steps before the first blow landed.

Receptionist Tessa Ward snapped her gum, glanced up, and frowned as if Camille's presence personally offended her. You're not supposed to be here, she said loudly. Tours are for pre-qualified buyers only. Camille remained polite. I'd like to look at the new Ridgeview listings.

Tessa scoffed. Yeah, no. Those homes start at seven figures. You don't look like someone who can even get approved. She leaned over the counter and grabbed a folded brochure from the bottom drawer.

Here. Something more in your range. She tossed it toward Camille's shoes like she was feeding scraps to a stray dog. The room stilled. A group of agents nearby exchanged smirks.

One whispered, Why do they always wander in here? Camille didn't bend down to pick up the brochure. Her posture didn't change. Her eyes remained steady. Tessa waved her hand dismissively.

Don't stand there like that. Move aside before a real client walks in. At that moment, senior agent Mark Denison appeared, checking messages on his phone. He spotted Camille and stiffened. Who is she?

Tessa rolled her eyes. Someone trying to pretend she's in the market. Mark approached Camille with the kind of fake sympathy reserved for someone he assumed was beneath him. Ma'am, we've had issues with loitering. I need to ask you to leave.

Security is already on the way. Security? Camille asked calmly. Yes, Mark snapped. Unless you can show proof of funds, and trust me, we're very strict.

Around the lobby, eyes widened, not with concern, but anticipation. People expected a scene, a meltdown, a confrontation. A junior agent even pulled out her phone, whispering, This is going viral. Camille took a slow breath. I only asked to see your Ridgeview inventory.

Tessa barked a laugh. Honey, you won't even get approved for a studio. Let's not waste time. Another agent chimed in. This isn't a charity office.

A few customers, embarrassed by the staff's behavior, stepped back quietly, unsure whether to intervene. No one dared. Tessa leaned forward again. Last warning. Exit or security escorts you out.