The merchant shop sat tucked between a spice stall and a tailor's nook, its wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze. Inside, Carmine moved with practiced ease, her disguise intact — a soft shawl over her hair, a dusted apron, and a voice pitched just enough to sound unfamiliar.
She sold small artifacts — trinkets, carved stones, and old brooches — and tucked fresh bread from the bakery into cloth bundles for the street kids who lingered nearby.
"Here," she said, handing a roll to a boy with wide eyes. "Eat slow. It's honey-glazed."
The kids adored her. They called her "Bread Lady" and sometimes "Miss Sparkle" because of the shiny things in her shop.
But peace never lasted long.
The door burst open.
In swept Elaine's sisters — two overdressed whirlwinds of perfume and entitlement, flanked by a nanny who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else.
"Oh my stars," said the older sister, fanning herself dramatically. "This place smells like… bread."
The younger one wrinkled her nose. "And old wood. Ew."
Carmine kept her head down, voice calm. "Welcome. Looking for something?"
"We need jewelry," the older one snapped. "For the engagement. Something that screams 'I'm richer than you.'"
The younger one chimed in, "And sparkles. Lots of sparkles. Not like those sad little stones you sell."
Carmine smiled tightly. "Of course. Right this way."
They picked through the artifacts like raccoons in a pantry — tossing aside delicate pieces, scoffing at anything under five carats.
"This one's ugly," said the older sister, holding up a vintage brooch. "It looks like it came from a peasant's wedding."
The nanny paid without question, her coin pouch lighter by the minute.
Carmine watched, her patience thinning.
Then she had an idea.
She stepped outside and whispered to the kids, who were already watching through the window.
"Want to help me with something fun?"
The kids grinned.
As the sisters strutted out of the shop, arms full of overpriced trinkets, they were met by a wall of street kids — grinning, arms crossed, blocking the path.
One boy stepped forward. "Nice jewels. Did you steal them from a scarecrow?"
Another chimed in, "You look like a chandelier that exploded."
A girl added, "My grandma's cat has better taste."
The sisters gasped.
"How dare you!" the older one shrieked.
The younger one clutched her necklace. "We are nobles!"
One of the kids shrugged. "You're just loud."
The nanny tried to usher them away, but the kids kept tossing playful jabs.
"Is that perfume or did someone spill vinegar?"
"Your shoes look like bread loaves."
"Are those sleeves or curtains?"
The sisters turned red, stumbled over their own gowns, and finally fled down the street, tripping over cobblestones.
Carmine watched from the doorway, arms crossed, a slow smile spreading across her face.
The kids ran back to her, laughing.
"That was amazing!" one shouted.
Carmine handed out more bread. "You earned it."
They sat together on the steps, sharing rolls and giggles.
And for once, revenge tasted sweet.