Chapter 3 - THE SOCIALITE'S DESPERATION
Panic surged through the socialite's veins like liquid ice as the horrifying reality of her mistake began to set in.
She scrambled clumsily across the marble floor, her silver evening bag clattering loudly against the stone beneath her.
"Wait... please, there has been a terrible misunderstanding!" she cried out, her voice cracking with sudden, undignified hysteria.
She reached out a trembling hand toward the hem of Charlotte's distressed dark gray jeans, desperate for mercy.
Charlotte stepped back gracefully, her slow, deliberate eye movement conveying a profound and icy disdain.
"You said trash isn't allowed in here," Charlotte stated quietly, her tone cutting through the quiet lobby like a razor.
The socialite's breath hitched, her perfectly styled reddish-brown hair coming undone as she shook her head in frantic denial.
"I didn't know... nobody told me you were connected to the Host! Please, have mercy on my family name!" she sobbed openly.
The surrounding wealthy guests averted their eyes in disgust, stepping back to distance themselves from the disgraced woman.
May you like
None of the elite socialites who had cheered her cruelty moments ago dared to lift a finger to help her now.
***
