"This is hilarious—she's dressed head to toe in bargain-bin garbage, couldn't afford a single tile in this place, and she's still putting on airs!"
Heads turned. The other clients stared at me, sizing me up with open amusement and contempt.
"Young people these days—can't earn a decent living, but they sure know how to run their mouths."
"Seriously. This is the most exclusive development in the city. Someone who reeks of poverty like her, buying here?"
"Probably just wanted to sneak in, take some photos for social media, pretend she's somebody. I've seen her type before."
As the commotion grew, my mother's face hardened. "Leave. Now. Stop making a spectacle of yourself."
My expression didn't waver. "I'm an owner here. Why would I leave?"
Aunt Diane burst into mocking laughter. "Oh, that's rich! The lies just keep getting bigger! Take a good look in the mirror, sweetheart—what makes you think you qualify to own anything here?"
Uncle Robert's face had gone rigid with irritation. He raised his voice, directing it at the sales office staff:
"What kind of operation is Emerald Oasis running? How does just anyone wander in off the street?"