ELIZABETH POV
The ballroom glittered under chandeliers, music humming softly beneath the chatter of New York’s elite. Sequined gowns swept across the marble floor, tuxedos gleamed, and champagne flowed like water. I wove through the crowd with a tray balanced in my hands, offering glasses to anyone who reached for one.
The black uniform clung tighter than I liked, the hem brushing just above my knees, paired with a stiff white apron tied at my waist. The heels they gave us pinched my feet, every step a reminder that I wasn’t a guest here, I was staff. No jewels. No silk. Just a neatly pinned bun and a dress that left me feeling far too exposed.
I could feel eyes on me. People I once greeted as equals, now watching me in confusion, some with curiosity, others with barely concealed scorn
