“Do you see this,” Tristan said with a sneer. “Still pretending to be above it all. No money, no status, yet full of pride.”
Brielle laughed and wrapped herself tighter around his arm, looking Emilia up and down with open contempt. “Some people never learn their place.”
Emilia did not reply. She only lowered her gaze to the cleaning cart beside her and folded the rag she had been using with careful, practiced motions. The picture she presented was that of a quiet service worker finishing her shift.
Then the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the grand entrance.
A group of men and women in black suits entered the lobby. Their presence changed the atmosphere instantly. Conversations died. Phones lowered. Heads turned.
At the front walked an older gentleman with silver hair and a gaze that commanded respect without raising his voice. Behind him followed executives, assistants, and a small press team carrying equipment and notebooks.
The mall director rushed forward, bowing with almost desperate politeness.
“Mrs. Porter, everything is prepared. The brand unveiling will begin in three minutes. The media is waiting for you.”
Silence fell over the lobby like a curtain dropping on a stage.