Chapter 12

• The manager's gaze held a quiet authority as he beckoned me to share my story. "Please, tell me what happened," he said, his voice a calm anchor in the storm of accusations.
• I drew in a deep breath, feeling the weight of every judgmental stare that had followed me since I entered.
• "I paid for the platinum membership card before entering the mall,” I explained, my voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions churning within me. “I came here with the sole intention of shopping for clothes, nothing more. I have no reason to steal anything.”
• The sales girls tried to cut in, their voices sharp and erratic, but Mr. Damian raised his hand, silencing them with a gesture that spoke volumes of his desire for fairness.
• “Let him speak,” he declared firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “I want to hear his side of the story.”
• But even as I spoke, the salesgirls persisted in their attempts to interrupt, their voices growing more frantic with each passing moment. They tried to inject doubt into Mr. Damian’s mind, casting defamation on my character and motives. Yet Mr. Damian remained steadfast, his expression impassive as he focused his attention solely on the truth.
• I pulled out my receipt and handed it to the guard, trying to keep my voice steady. "I paid for this membership card, and I have the receipt right here. I'm entitled to shop here without any hassle."
• He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine, as if searching for the truth in the depths of my gaze. With a sense of relief, I continued, recounting every detail of my encounter with the salesgirls, from their baseless accusations to their attempts to discredit me.
• Ignoring their protests, he turned to me, his gaze searching. “Continue,” he urged, his voice gentle yet firm. His eyes fixed on me with undivided attention, It was as if he sensed the urgency of my account, the importance of every word I spoke.
• I pressed on, determined to make my voice heard above the clamor of the salesgirls’ protests. Each interruption only fueled my resolve, strengthening my resolve to convey the truth of what had transpired. And though their attempts were relentless, I refused to be silenced, my words ringing out with unwavering clarity.
• I could feel their eyes burning into me, their hostility palpable even from across the room. But I refused to back down, determined to prove my innocence at any cost.
• With every detail I shared, I could sense Mr. Damian’s focus intensifying, his expression growing more serious with each passing moment. He listened attentively, weighing each word with careful consideration, as if piecing together a puzzle to uncover the truth hidden within.
• When I finished speaking, Mr. Damian turned to the salesgirls, his expression grave. “Accusations like these are serious matters,” he admonished, his voice tinged with disappointment. “You should never jump to conclusions without evidence.”
• The salesgirls squirmed under his gaze, their expressions shifting from defiance to uncertainty. “But sir, we saw—” one of them began, but Mr. Damian cut her off with a raised hand.
• With a calm but determined demeanor, he turned to the salesgirls and me, his eyes glinting with resolve.
• “Come with me,” he instructed, his voice carrying authority. “We’ll review the CCTV footage together and see what it reveals.” His authoritative voice cut through the tension like a knife, demanding attention and respect.
• As he suggested reviewing the CCTV footage, I felt a glimmer of relief wash over me, hopeful that the truth would soon come to light.
• But the salesgirls’ reaction was anything but reassuring. Their faces contorted with panic, their eyes wide with fear, as if the mere mention of watching the CCTV footage was enough to send them spiraling into despair. I watched in disbelief as they began to protest, their voices tinged with desperation.
• “It’s no use,” one of them insisted, her tone bordering on hysteria. “We’re telling the truth. You have to believe us.”
• Mr. Damian remained unfazed, his expression unreadable as he turned to face them. “The CCTV will tell the truth,” he stated firmly, his voice brooking no argument. “If what you say is true, then there’s nothing to fear.”
• The salesgirls exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence wavering at the prospect of facing irrefutable evidence.
• “I assure you, there's no need for that," one of the sales girls said, her voice a pitch higher than before.
• The manager, unmoved by their protest, responded with a level of calm authority that commanded respect. "The CCTV will reveal the truth," he stated firmly. "Please, let's proceed to the security stand."
• As we walked towards the security stand, the salesgirls trailed behind us. "He's just trying to get away with something!" one of them hissed, their voice barely audible.
• The manager ignored them and continued to lead us to the security stand.
• While this was happening, the once bustling sounds of the mall seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the pounding of my heart and the muffled pleas of the sales girls. They knew, as did I, that the truth was about to be laid bare for all to see.
• Once we arrived, the manager gestured to the security officer, who queued up the footage. "Let's see what really happened," he said. We stood before the security monitors, a small crowd gathering behind us the largest screen displaying the CCTV footage of the mall entrance.
• He pressed a button, and the footage rolled, a silent Witness to the day’s events. The screens flickered to life, showing me entering the mall, my movements casual and unhurried. With bated breath, I watched as the footage played out before us, my heart pounding in my chest with nervous anticipation.
• Every moment was captured in crystal-clear detail, every movement scrutinized under the watchful gaze of the cameras. And then, just as I had hoped, the truth was revealed. It showed as I browsed through racks of clothes, occasionally checking price tags, but never once did my actions suggest anything untoward. There was no evidence of wrongdoing, no sign of malicious intent. I felt a surge of relief wash over me.
• As the footage continued to vindicate me, the manager turned to the sales girls, his expression grave.
• "Why did you choose to look down on Richard and embarrass him?" he asked, his voice carrying a weight of disappointment.
• The sales girls were silent, their eyes downcast. Their earlier certainty had evaporated, leaving behind only the stark reality of their mistake.
• "I... we just..." one stammered, struggling to find words that could possibly explain their actions.
• But there were none. The truth was clear for all to see, and with it came the consequences of their rush to judgment.
• Their attempts at apology were feeble, and their voices barely above a whisper as they struggled to find the right words to explain their actions.
• “We… we’re sorry,” one of them stammered, her voice trembling with regret. “We didn’t mean to…”
• Mr. Damian’s expression softened slightly, but his resolve remained firm. “Accusing someone without evidence is unacceptable.
• Tears welled up in the eyes of the salesgirls, their voices trembling with fear and desperation.
• “Please, Mr. Damian,” they pleaded, their voices tinged with remorse. “We’ll do anything to make it right.”
• Mr. Damian shook his head, his mind was made. “I'm sorry, but you're fired," he stated.
• They fell to their knees, their pleas for mercy mingling with tears, but Mr. Damian was unmoved. “Your actions have consequences,” he stated firmly. “I cannot overlook what you’ve done.”
• I watched as their apologies spilled out, a torrent of regret, but it was too late. “Escort them out," he instructed the security.
• The salesgirls’ cries grew louder as the guards approached, their pleas falling on deaf ears. “No, please!” they begged, their voices filled with desperation. “We’ll do better, we promise!”
• Mr. Damian was resolute, his decision final. "Take them away," he barked out, his words cutting through their cries.
• The salesgirls begged and pleaded as they were dragged away, their cries echoing off the walls of the luxury boutiques
• The scene was a stark contrast to the elegance of the mall, their pleas fading into the distance.
• And as they disappeared from view, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of closure wash over me.
• Mr. Damian turned to me with an apology that seemed to come from a place of deep respect. He had a sympathetic expression on his face.
• "I'm truly sorry for this ordeal," he said, his voice tinged with regret. “Please, enjoy the rest of your shopping experience without further disturbance."