The glittering crystal chandeliers of the Grand Azure Hotel cast warm golden light across the marble floor. Dozens of wealthy visitors walked through the lobby in expensive tailored suits and long designer gowns. Near the main entrance, Tiffany adjusted the US Flag brooch pinned to her sparkling silver sequin dress. She laughed loudly, tilting her glass of cold champagne so fast that liquid sloshed onto the floor. She leaned against her fiancé Brandon, who wore a dark navy suit and looked nervously around the busy room.
Tiffany: Look at this place, Brandon. The lighting, the people, the power. I could really get used to spending every single weekend here as the official owner's wife.
Brandon: Yeah, babe. It is pretty great. Just keep your voice down a little, okay? Some of these people are high-profile clients.
Tiffany: Why should I keep my voice down? You run this entire luxury estate now! We can do whatever we want, whenever we want.
At that moment, a quiet woman wearing a simple beige trench coat walked past the lounge. She carried a worn black leather bag over her shoulder and checked her phone screen, ignoring the glamour around her. Tiffany sneered loudly and deliberately stepped into her path, swinging her glass outward. The cold champagne splashed directly across the front of the beige coat and sprayed onto the woman's cheek. Nearby guests gasped at the sharp splash echoing through the quiet lobby.
Tiffany: Oops! My hand slipped.
Victoria: Excuse me?
Tiffany: You really should watch where you stand. This area is for private, high-paying guests only, not for lost tourists wandering around with cheap leather bags.
The woman in the coat did not shout or react wildly. She pulled a clean cloth from her pocket and wiped the liquid off her skin. She looked at the sequin dress, then stared directly at Brandon.
Tiffany: What are you staring at? You think you can demand an apology from me? Do you even know who I am?
Tiffany raised her left hand, flashing a giant diamond engagement ring straight in the woman's face.
Tiffany: My fiancé runs this hotel! One word from me, and security will throw you out into the street like garbage.
Victoria: Your fiancé runs this entire hotel? Is that really what he told you?
Tiffany: That is right! So pick up your cheap little bag and get out of our sight before I lose my temper!
The woman unzipped her leather bag, pulled out a black phone, and dialed a number. Within two seconds, Brandon's phone rang loudly in his jacket pocket. He looked at the caller ID and his face turned completely white. He took a trembling step back as guests turned to watch.
Victoria: I am calling your fiancé right now. Come over here, Brandon.
Brandon: I... uh... hold on a second, Tiffany...
Tiffany: Brandon? Why are you answering her? Do you know this peasant?
Victoria: Brandon does not run this hotel.
Victoria leaned close to Tiffany, her voice steady and icy cold.
Victoria: He works for me. And his shift ended five minutes ago.