Derek grabbed Benjamin's personal bag from the counter, a small worn leather satchel. He unzipped it and dumped the contents in front of everyone.
A bus pass. A folded handkerchief embroidered with the initials NW. A creased photograph of a young man in a graduation gown. A bottle of heart medication.
"Look at this." Derek picked up the photograph. "This is your son? The one who supposedly needs a Patek Philippe?"
He held it up for the room. "Looks like he'd be more at home at a pawn shop."
Benjamin's voice cracked for the first time. "Please. That photograph. Give it back."
Derek tossed it onto the floor.
The photograph landed face up on the white marble. The young man in the picture was smiling.
Nobody picked it up. A woman near the door glanced down at it, then stepped over it on her way to the handbag section. A man in a gray suit pretended he didn't see it. The teenager kept filming.
Benjamin bent down slowly. His knees ached, his back protested. He picked up the photograph with both hands and held it against his chest, the way a man holds something sacred.
Derek called security. Two guards appeared from the back. Both tall, both stone-faced.
Derek pointed at Benjamin. "Remove him. He's trespassing. He's harassing our customers. And check his pockets on the way out. I don't trust that he hasn't taken something."
The guards moved toward Benjamin. One of them gripped his arm.
Benjamin didn't resist. He let himself be turned around and walked toward the door, his worn coat brushing against a rack of silk scarves that cost more than his monthly pension.
As they passed the front desk, Megan looked away. She couldn't meet his eyes.
But Allison didn't look away. She stared at the founder's portrait on the wall behind the register. A -and-white photograph of a young man in a simple coat, standing in front of the original Sterling and Hale storefront in 1981.
Then she looked at Benjamin being walked out. Back to the portrait. Back at Benjamin.
Her lips parted.
She pulled out her phone under the counter and typed a message. Fast, urgent, her fingers shaking.
Derek didn't notice. He was too busy straightening his cuffs and accepting a quiet "well handled" from a customer in a cashmere coat.
The front door opened. The guards pushed Benjamin out onto the sidewalk. The cold October air hit his face. The door closed behind him with a soft, expensive click.
Inside, Derek clapped his hands once. "Back to business, everyone. Show's over."
And everyone obeyed. Because that's what people do when cruelty wears a nice suit.