“I… I am sorry, ma’am,” the man stammered. “I thought she came in to make a room booking.”
“Are you daft?” she hissed. “She cannot afford this place. Look at her. She’s a cleaner, and her husband drives cars that don’t belong to him.”
The elderly man’s shoulders dropped. “I am sorry, Miss Aria. Please, forgive me.”
Aria clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. “I should report you to management. You and your team should be replaced. You let just anyone walk in here.”
Isabella’s eyes widened. She stepped forward, her voice soft but steady. “What is wrong with being a chauffeur or a cleaner? At least they work hard. At least they earn their money decently.”
Aria turned to her slowly, eyes narrowing. “Oh, I see. You have a little mouth too.”
The crowd in the lobby began to whisper. Phon
