Le Marelle was considered one of the city’s crown jewels of dining. Every detail spoke of perfection: snow-white tablecloths draped smoothly over polished tables, soft golden light washed over the walls and the glinting glassware, and in the corner,
a pianist’s fingers danced lightly over the keys, each note seeming to carry its own story. The waitstaff moved silently between the tables, every motion measured and precise, their polite smiles almost rehearsed. Elegance and quiet competition hung in the air;
the faint scent of fine wines and fresh pastries mingled with the unspoken confidence of the guests, a subtle battle of presence and status.
Amelia entered with her friends, Sophie and Laura. Each was impeccably dressed: silk gowns flowed over their figures, makeup highlighted every perfect feature, and hair shone under the soft light. Confidence radiated from their expressions
—the kind that declared, without words, that the night belonged entirely to them. It was as if time slowed the moment they stepped inside, and the eyes of the room unconsciously turned in their direction.
Emily, a young waitress with her hair tied back and a tired yet kind expression, approached them. Her every step betrayed a hint of fear and uncertainty, like she was trying to measure herself against the invisible weight of expectation. Amelia barely glanced at her.
“We’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes,” she said sharply, her voice laced with sarcasm and superiority. “Or do you only serve guests based on the size of their wallets?”
Emily’s eyes widened, and a faint blush rose to her cheeks.“I’m so sorry, ma’am… we’ve had an unusually busy evening… I’ll bring the menu immediately.”
Amelia hissed in mock annoyance.“I hope you at least know how to serve the coffee properly. It’s pitiful to watch someone pretend to be professional.”
Sophie let out a soft laugh, Laura’s smile was almost imperceptible. Emily’s face deepened in color, and she nodded quickly before hurrying away. Every gesture of hers trembled with tension and self-doubt.
Amelia’s eyes remained cold and judgmental—she lived in a world of winners and losers, and there was no place for the weak.
“My goodness, what a level,” Amelia said loudly, ensuring nearby tables heard. “Born to nothing, destined for nothing.”
The piano’s melodies continued to weave through the space, glasses chimed, but the atmosphere had shifted. Curious glances flicked toward Amelia’s table as whispers filled the background, and the room seemed to hold its breath.
A few minutes later, Emily returned with a tray. Her hands shook slightly, a drop of wine glistened at the edge of a glass, catching the light as if the room itself sympathized with her. Amelia’s gaze was sharp and piercing.
“Do you practice holding things at home, or do you drop everything in life as well?”Emily didn’t answer. She placed the glass down carefully, murmured a soft apology, and quickly retreated, almost vanishing among the warm shadows and golden light.
“Couldn’t you be a little gentler?” Sophie whispered, leaning close. “She’s just a kid.”“Let her learn,” Amelia said coldly, her eyes flashing. “The world isn’t obligated to be kind to the weak.”
Then came the faint sound of cutlery setting down from a neighboring table. A calm, deep male voice cut through the ambient noise:
“Excuse me, may I have a menu, please?”
Amelia turned—and froze.At the table sat Oliver Wood, the man whose gaze alone could alter the trajectory of anyone’s career. His face was serene, his eyes sharp and unyielding.
He looked at Emily, who had approached him.“You carried yourself with remarkable poise. Not many can maintain their composure under pressure like that.”
Amelia’s mouth went dry. Oliver continued slowly, deliberately: “You know, there’s an opening at our company. We value people who are patient, who can act with respect and restraint.”
Then he turned to Amelia, his tone calm but cutting:“And as for those who cannot treat others with respect… perhaps it’s time to say goodbye.”
He returned the fork to his plate as if the conversation were over. Amelia… could no longer lift her gaze. The lights, the music, the clinking of glasses—all seemed to freeze around her. In an instant, the world had revealed its hierarchy: the winners and the losers.
A heavy, suffocating awareness settled in her chest—a realization that power, respect, and true authority were not games, and those unprepared would be left behind.
