Chapter 3 - The Redirection
Brooke had been watching the entire exchange. She hated that the maid had captured the attention of the elite table instead of crying in the kitchen.
Brooke stood up and aggressively stepped directly into Nova’s path near the service corridor.
"You really do make everything look cheap," Brooke sneered loudly, ensuring the nearby guests heard her. "Did poverty teach you not to talk back to your betters?"
Nova stopped. She looked at Brooke’s weight distribution. Right knee slightly locked. Four-inch heels. Alcohol. Anger. Distance between them. Nova hated that her body still processed threats this way.
"My family taught me to work hard," Nova replied calmly. "And they taught me not to confuse money with character."
The silence expanded. Brooke’s arrogant smile violently disappeared.
Brooke lunged forward. She aimed to violently shove Nova into the service wall, completely intending to rip her uniform.
Nova’s body moved before interpretation even finished.
Half step. Turn. One hand perfectly redirecting Brooke’s reaching wrist. Nova smoothly stepped entirely out of the line of momentum.
Brooke’s own heel slipped against the spilled champagne on the marble floor.
She went down hard. Red silk twisted around her knees as she collapsed onto the floor in an incredibly humiliating, undignified heap.
Absolute silence engulfed the ballroom.
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Three massive, trained security guards immediately rushed through the doors, heading straight for Nova.
👉 Before the guards could touch her, the billionaire owner of the hotel finally spoke.
