People watched as if she were an interruption. A bar attendant looked to the hostess before pouring a simple glass of water. Nearby conversations edged into cutting jokes dressed as wit.
A young man lifted his phone to film. A relative, trying to win a laugh, made a clumsy show of “helping” and managed to tip red wine across Simone’s white gown.
“Richardson Global. This is Simone.”
A few business-savvy ears flicked toward the name. The rest of the room kept its smirk. Then the voice on the line asked the question that tilted the night.
“Ms. Richardson, the Whitmore contracts are ready for your signature. Shall we bring them to the gala for tonight’s announcement?”
Simone paused. She looked around the room, at the faces that mistook dismissal for sophistication. Then she spoke the sentence that separated appearance from reality.
“No. Cancel everything.”
When Respect Becomes the First Line Item
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