On the same evening day.

Rebecca was coming home in her red Porsche. And she was talking with Jane on the phone. “I spent 1800 dollars on that tiny bottle. I had it shipped from another country, but it didn’t even last four hours. It’s trash. They are just looting. These designer perfumes… they are completely losing my trust. Shame on them. How can they blatantly steal money from us using their brand names? How can they take their profession so lightly?”

“Calm down, girl,” Jane said in a sleepy