Jasmine
“To think an accolade of this caliber is being handed to a girl who probably slept her way to the top,” Eleanor scoffed. “Who even knows the truth? Mr. Vance may not even be her biological father. For all we know, she might just be his secret little mistress who has finally decided to crawl out of hiding to claim a fortune she didn’t earn.”
A collective, horrified gasp rippled through the hundreds of high-society guests in the hall. The event coordinators panicked, frantically gesturing to the tech booth to cut the microphone, but Eleanor was adamant. She leaned in closer, speaking over the static as she scrambled to say everything she wanted to say before they could silence her.
I stood completely rooted to the floor, my face burning with a mix of intense humiliation and rage.
