Socialite C couldn't hold back a nasty snicker. "What kind of friends could a country bumpkin possibly have in the United Realmon States?"
"Isabella, don't tell me Serena dragged a bunch of her dirt-poor relatives over from the countryside?"
"Oh, God. Dragging a bunch of impoverished peasants into a venue like this... Just the thought of breathing the same air as that kind of trash makes me want to vomit!"
Right on schedule, Isabella chimed in with a half-hearted, fake defense of her sister.
Just then.
A massive commotion erupted near the estate's grand entrance.
Someone murmured loudly, "Is she here? Is that the guest of honor?"
Every head in the banquet hall turned toward the gates.
Striding up the pathway was a tall, strikingly beautiful girl with her hair tied in a careless ponytail, both hands stuffed casually into her pockets.
She wasn't wearing an evening gown. She didn't even have a drop of makeup on. She was still rocking the same faded T-shirt and jeans.
Flanking her was a woman in a blazing red leather jacket, sporting wild, fiery red curls and swinging a heavy motorcycle helmet by the strap.
Popping a lollipop out of her mouth, the redhead scanned the opulent, diamond- draped venue with wide, excited eyes. "Damn, Serena! This place is massive! Way flashier than that last fancy gig we crashed!"
Trailing right behind them were five massive, brutally built men. They all sported military buzz cuts and skin-tight black T-shirts that threatened to rip over their bulging muscles.
They were objectively handsome, but their eyes held the lethal, predatory gleam of hardened street fighters. They practically oozed a terrifying, untouchable aura.
As a group...
They didn't look like they were arriving for a high-society gala. They looked like they were rolling up to a cartel turf war.
The entire banquet hall fell dead silent.
Hundreds of guests stared in sheer bewilderment at the bizarre crew.
Isabella's friends slapped their hands over their mouths, stifling hysterical laughter.
"Oh my god, Isabella, she actually showed up to her own gala dressed like that?!" "Who the hell are those people?"
"Are those the 'friends' she brought? Has she lost her damn mind?"
"I guess it's true what they say-trash attracts trash. Of course the village freak hangs out with a pack of delinquents."
"That redhead looks like a cheap streetwalker, and those guys... are they gangbangers?"
"I can't believe the Vinton heiress associates with back-alley thugs."
"Rolling up to a formal event looking like that is a total slap in the face to the hosts!"
"If I were a Vinton, I'd have security toss them onto the street immediately."
The vicious whispers were music to Isabella's ears.
།
Standing there, utterly radiant and flawless, Isabella looked at Serena's pathetic, ragtag entourage and finally felt the intoxicating high of absolute victory.
Suppressing her triumphant smirk, she slapped on a mask of deep
concern. "Why on earth would Serena
"I those kinds of people
here.. this is completely
inappropriate. I need to go talk some sense into her..."
Just as she prepared to step forward.
A thoroughly delighted voice rang out across the lawn. "Oh, wonderful! These must be Serena's friends!"
Kiera Montrose practically sprinted over, a massive smile on her face. She grabbed Serena's hand with one arm and warmly took Black Jack's hand with the other.
"Oh my, you must be the Hazel that Catherine mentioned! You are absolutely gorgeous!" Kiera beamed, not showing a single ounce of disgustor judgment come in come in! Don't be shy! Any friend of Serena is family to the Vintons.
Please, treat this place as your own home!"
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