Chapter 2 - Eleanor's Slap Reverberates Through The Elite Washington Ballroom
The sharp, ringing crack of the physical blow echoed off the crystal chandeliers of the grand Washington ballroom.
Eleanor stood tall in her emerald-green velvet dress, her diamond jewelry glittering under the warm, ambient lighting.
Her hand remained raised for a fraction of a second before she curled her fingers back into a tight, aristocratic fist.
Elena slowly turned her face back toward the center of the room, her sapphire-blue silk gown catching the golden glow.
Not a single tear dampened her dark eyes, which remained fixed on Eleanor with an unnerving, icy composure.
Around them, wealthy Washington elites gasped softly behind champagne flutes, breaking the tense, suffocating silence.
“You think you are better than us, sitting in this room without a family name or a trust fund?” Eleanor sneered loudly.
Her voice dripped with decades of generational entitlement, cutting through the murmurs of the stunned political crowd.
May you like
Elena took a slow, measured breath, letting the oxygen fill her lungs while her pulse remained completely steady.
“I know I am not like you,” Elena replied, her voice dropping into a quiet, bone-chilling register.
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