"Sir." Derek's voice carried across the room, deliberately loud. "I think you've wandered into the wrong place. The Goodwill is two blocks east."
Three customers at the jewelry counter turned. A sales associate froze mid-sentence.
Benjamin looked at Derek calmly. "I'd like to see the Patek Philippe in the front case. The one with the midnight blue dial."
Derek blinked. Then he smiled, the way people smile when they think the joke just got funnier.
Derek tilted his head. "The Patek Philippe." He repeated the words slowly, like he was speaking to a child. "Do you even know what that costs?"
Benjamin nodded. "32,000. Midnight blue dial. Calatrava collection. Ref 5227G."
Something flickered behind Derek's eyes. A flash of surprise. Then it hardened into something worse.
"Anyone can Google a model number." Derek folded his arms. "That doesn't mean you can afford it. That doesn't mean you belong anywhere near it."
He turned to Megan at the front desk. "Did you let him in?"
Megan's face went pale. "He... He just walked in, sir. I didn't think..."
"That's the problem. You didn't think." Derek's voice dropped to a whisper loud enough for the entire floor to hear. "Next time a man walks in looking like he slept under a bridge, you call security first. You don't roll out the red carpet."
Benjamin stood still. His hands stayed at his sides. His expression hadn't changed since he walked in. Steady, patient, like a man who had weathered worse storms than this.
"Sir," Benjamin said quietly. "I have the money. Cash. I just want to purchase."
Derek laughed. He actually laughed. "You're telling me you walked into a Sterling and Hale store with cash in your pocket?"
He leaned forward. "Where did you get it? Did you steal it? Did someone feel sorry for you?"
The words hit the room like a hammer on glass.
Two women near the handbag display stopped talking. A man in a navy blazer lowered his sunglasses. Every pair of eyes on the floor was now locked on Benjamin, and not one of them looked sympathetic.
Derek wasn't done. "Let me paint you a picture, old man."
He circled Benjamin slowly, the way a dog circles something it doesn't respect.
"Our customers fly in from Dubai, from London, from Monaco. They wear coats that cost more than your house, if you even have one. They don't smell like mothballs and bus exhaust."
He stopped directly in front of Benjamin, close enough that the old man could see the vein pulsing in Derek's temple.