Then, her eyes met Peter’s across the room. His drink froze halfway to his lips as his jaw slackened. For a moment, he stared, unable to process what he was seeing. Cindy, the “middle-class girl” he had discarded, had transformed into the image of power and sophistication overnight.
Peter’s thoughts raced. The dress, the car—none of it made sense. How could she afford such luxury? Whispers spread like wildfire, fueled by the same question from every corner of the room. Peter’s face turned a shade darker, his confident demeanor slipping as he watched Cindy move through the crowd.