The banquet hall gleamed with wealth. Golden chandeliers scattered soft light across polished marble floors, while long tables draped in cream linen overflowed with gourmet dishes. Crystal glasses shimmered as servers moved quietly through the crowd.
The air carried the blend of roasted meat, sweet wines, and heavy designer perfumes. Laughter rose and fell in waves, clinking glasses punctuating the background music of a live quartet tucked near the stage.
Jace stood near the center, tall and composed. His tailored suit, sharp lines cutting against his frame, fit him like it had been measured by hands that understood perfection. A faint smile lingered on his lips, his eyes gliding over the hall as if he were born to stand in this exact place—calm, unshaken, and magnetic.
In one corner, a group of familiar faces clustered together, their stares sharp and mocking.
The fat boy tugged at the buttons of his ill-fitted blazer, smirking as he leaned toward the others.
"Is that really the dirt-poor Jace?" His voice oozed disbelief, but his small eyes never left Jace's suit.
Beside him, a skinny woman in a glittering backless dress crossed her arms, her bones jutting like the edges of her bitterness.
"His whole body is covered in millions." Her gaze flicked down to his watch, lips curling in contempt.
The too-tall woman, her sequined gown awkwardly short for her lanky legs, sneered.
"Did the peasant win some lottery?" She lifted her glass in mock toast, her painted nails gleaming under the lights.
Finally, the short boy in a velvet jacket and crooked bowtie chuckled.
"I bet he got adopted by some old ass sugar mama." He tilted his head back, laughter sharp and cartoonish.
Their voices mixed in a cruel harmony, laughter spilling like acid. They moved like caricatures of wealth, mockingly noble but reeking of insecurity.
Yet, among them, one face twisted not with humor but with burning dissatisfaction. Emily.
She stood at the edge of their group, blonde curls framing her face, lips painted with glossy pink that caught the light whenever she scowled. Her slit dress clung to her average frame, teasing thighs and cleavage, though her expression betrayed no confidence. She was furious, but also curious.
Her painted nails tapped against her glass as her eyes fixed on Jace.
'Even in that luxury clothing store, he was buying expensive stuff, and he was with some woman that looked really well-off.'
Her teeth grazed her lower lip.
Her frustration deepened as she noticed the way other women floated toward Jace. Women draped in silk, velvet, and satin, their eyes alight with interest.
He laughed with them easily, voice smooth, gestures confident. Charisma poured off him, and they leaned closer as if his words carried gravity. His smile was warm but controlled, the sort of charm that made people believe he could be theirs—though he never gave enough to confirm it.
Emily bit her nail hard, jaw tight, then turned her gaze toward Kyle, her current boyfriend.
Kyle stood with a wine glass dangling from his hand, his suit expensive but wrinkled, tie loose as if he'd given up on formality halfway. His gaze drifted down women's thighs, lingering at the ones with high slits and low necklines. His lips curled into a lazy, lustful grin.
Emily's stomach turned. Disgust clouded her face. Compared to her idiotic simp of a boyfriend, Jace was everything. Looks, charisma, money. He wasn't just shining tonight—he owned the room.
Her nail snapped as she bit it too hard. She spat the fragment onto the floor with quiet contempt.
Her eyes narrowed, her glossed lips twitching with bitter anger. Jace raised a glass of red wine from a passing tray, his faint smile never faltering. Smoothly, he placed a hundred-dollar bill on the silver tray.
The waitress froze, staring at him, cheeks flushing pink under his effortless charm.
"Thank… you," she whispered, flustered.
Emily's eyes widened. Recognition slammed into her.
The waitress. One of her juniors from college. The same girl whose life she had trampled without thought. She remembered her name now—Sofia. Emily had made sure Sofia's days were hell, punishing her for something as petty as a bump in the hallway.
Verbal abuse, extorting money, slaps when no one was looking. Eventually, Sofia had cracked, unable to endure, and dropped out.
And now here she was, working as a waitress. And blushing at Jace.
'How dare a lowly bitch.' Rage coiled inside Emily, sharp and cold.
Then a faint, mocking smile crept across her lips. 'I guess I need to remind this bitch of her place.'
Jace, still smiling, was lost in conversation with the women circling him. He only noticed Emily when she stormed toward Sofia, his eyes narrowing faintly as he raised his glass to sip.
Emily's heels clicked loudly as she approached Sofia.
"Oh my, are you trying to avoid me?" Emily's tone dripped with false sweetness.
Sofia froze, her body stiffened, when she heard the voice she had once feared.
She turned, clutching the tray with both hands. Her voice trembled.
"N-No, ma'am. I was assigned to his area—"
"Enough talk. Serve me," Emily snapped.
Sofia swallowed, her throat tight, then shifted the tray toward her.
Emily's smile curled as she took a glass. Then, with a tilt of her waist, she pushed against the tray.
Red wine splashed down her own dress. The liquid streaked across the satin, dripping down her thighs.
Sofia's eyes widened in horror. Her lips parted, but no words came.
Emily's smile lingered for a breath before she burst into a scream. Her voice cut through the hall like glass shattering.
"HOW DARE YOU!"
The quartet faltered, their music breaking off. Conversations froze. Heads snapped toward them.
Sofia trembled, her hands shaking as the tray clinked with glass.
"I-I'm sorry, but I—"
"SHUT UP!" Emily's voice thundered.
Her chest rose and fell as she clutched at the stained fabric.
"Do you know how expensive this dress is?"
"M-Ma'am, I didn't—"
"Shut the fuck up!" Emily stepped closer, towering over her with venom.
The hall erupted in murmurs.
"Did she spill it on her?"
"Looks like the waitress messed up."
"That poor girl."
"Poor? Hmph. Lowlifes must be educated."
Whispers mixed with stares, the crowd's judgment cutting through the perfume-thick air.
Emily's lips curled into a grin, proud of the scene she was crafting.
Sofia's knees trembled. She could barely breathe.
And then, Jace moved. His calm voice slid into the tension, carrying over the crowd with ease.
"Are you okay?"
Emily turned, her lips parting. Warmth bloomed in her chest, a spark of hope she hadn't felt in years. 'He still has feelings for me,' she told herself, her heart quickening.
She softened her voice, tilting her head just slightly, eyes wide with feigned fragility.
"I-I'm fine, you don't have to worry—"
Her words froze in her throat.
Jace had walked past her without pause. He bent down, offering his hand to Sofia, lifting her gently as if she were the only one that mattered.
The waitress swallowed hard, tears threatening at the edges of her eyes. "Th-thank you... Sir..." Her voice trembled with gratitude.
Murmurs swept through the hall. A moment ago, some had nodded with Emily. Now the tide shifted. The women who had been laughing with Jace moments earlier glanced at each other, sympathy in their eyes as they looked at Sofia.
Emily's chest tightened, rage boiled. Her nails dug into her palm, eyes narrowing until her act turned real.
Her voice tore across the hall, sharp and furious.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Every gaze snapped between her and Jace.