Chapter 9 The Revelation 1

Natasha tapped her foot against the wooden floor, arms crossed as she glanced at the clock. "I thought you'd be ready by now. It's almost time, and we have to get going," she reminded Elena, her voice edged with impatience.

"Yes, I know, Natasha," Elena replied, hurriedly gathering her things. Her movements were swift but lacked enthusiasm, as if she were only going through the motions. "I'll just close the shop, lock up, and then we can leave."

Natasha exhaled sharply, watching as her friend moved about with no particular urgency. But it wasn't just Elena's sluggish pace that dulled Natasha's excitement-it was how she looked.

Elena was still wearing the same simple, practical dress she had worn to work, a modest beige fabric that did nothing to accentuate her figure. Her hair, usually kept neatly tied back in a simple braid, remained unstyled, with loose strands falling carelessly around her face. She had made no effort to enhance her appearance-no jewelry, no makeup, no change in attire to match the significance of the night ahead. Natasha felt her stomach sink.

"Elena," Natasha began carefully, though frustration tinged her words, "I told you about this event a day ago. I imagined you'd at least try to dress up a little, but you look exactly the same as always. Don't you want to make a good impression? There will be a lot of important men there."

Elena paused, gripping the key to the shop a little tighter before sighing and shaking her head. "I'm already married, Natasha. None of that interests me. I'm only going because I promised you as a friend. But if you think I'm not dressed well enough and want me to stay behind, then fine. I'll stay, and you can go alone."

Natasha's eyes widened, and for a moment, guilt flickered in them. "No! Elena, I can't go alone. I planned this evening expecting you to be there with me. Look, I'm not going there to find a man either. This event is for the country's high society, and let's be real-I doubt any of them would even bother speaking to me. But with you there, we can at least enjoy ourselves, have some good food, and just take in the experience."

Elena regarded her for a moment before exhaling in resignation. "Alright. Just give me a few minutes, and I'll join you outside."

As Natasha waited, Elena methodically locked up the shop. Though she remained outwardly composed, a strange feeling settled in her chest-one she couldn't quite name. But there was no time to dwell on it. She rushed out and slid into the taxi beside Natasha, the car pulling away from the modest little shop and heading toward the grandeur that awaited them.

The event was being held at Sullivan's Restaurant-the most luxurious and exclusive dining establishment in the country. A place whispered about in awe, where billionaires, politicians, and celebrities gathered behind velvet ropes, away from the ordinary world.

As the taxi pulled up, Elena's breath caught in her throat.

The building was nothing short of majestic, glowing with an ethereal golden light against the velvet darkness of the evening sky. Towering pillars lined the grand entrance, their intricate carvings glinting under the cascading illumination of street lamps. Every detail, from the gold-engraved double doors to the marble lion statues guarding the steps, exuded wealth and untouchable status. Through the glass windows, she glimpsed glittering chandeliers hanging like cascading stars, their light casting a warm, shimmering glow upon the grand hall inside.

Elena swallowed. She had never seen anything like this before.

"We should head in now," Natasha said, tugging lightly at Elena's wrist when she noticed her friend had gone still.

"Yes, I know," Elena murmured, forcing herself to step forward. "I was just... taken aback by the beauty of this place. I never would have had the chance to see something like this if you hadn't invited me."

Natasha smirked, nudging her playfully. "I told you, didn't I? You're going to enjoy this-just wait until you see the inside."

As they approached the entrance, a tall, stern-faced security guard stepped forward, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable.

"Invitation card," he said, his tone flat and impersonal.

Natasha smiled and handed over her invitation. The guard inspected it briefly, then nodded and stepped aside, granting her entry.

Elena stepped forward next, expecting the same quick process. But the moment she moved, the guard's hand shot up, halting her in place.

"Turn back," he said flatly.

Elena blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"

The guard's eyes raked over her, his lip curling slightly. "You don't belong in a place like this," he said with a sneer. "Just take a look at yourself-then look at where you are. Do you really think someone like you should be here? Look around. Everyone is dressed elegantly, while you look..." He scoffed. "Out of place. You should check the next venue-maybe you're lost."

Heat flooded Elena's cheeks. The words struck her like a slap, sharp and unrelenting. A slow, simmering humiliation crept up her spine, twisting into anger that bubbled beneath the surface.

But she had an invitation.

She wasn't going to leave just because some arrogant guard assumed she didn't belong.

By now, Natasha had realized Elena wasn't behind her. Turning back, she took one look at the situation and her eyes blazed with fury.

"What is your problem?" Natasha snapped at the guard, stepping between him and Elena like a shield. "Why are you harassing my friend? The only thing you need to check is her invitation card-not her outfit. Since when does a dress code determine entry?"

The guard remained unimpressed, his stance unyielding. "Just look at her. It's obvious she doesn't belong here. We don't need an invitation to tell us that. We only allow people of a certain status to attend events like these."

Elena clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. How many times had she heard words like these before? That she was not enough. That she was lesser. That she didn't belong?

Natasha gritted her teeth. "This is ridiculous! She has an invitation just like everyone else here. Let her in!"

But the guards remained unmoved, their judgment already passed.

Natasha had no one to call for help-except her aunt.

"Don't worry, Elena. I'm calling my aunt. She'll take care of this," Natasha assured her, pulling out her phone.

Elena exhaled, but remained still. She could already see it-the guards weren't worried, weren't even concerned. In their eyes, they had already decided she wasn't fit to attend.

No matter what the invitation said.