Chapter 31 Few Dollars
MELISSA'S POV
I adjusted my dress first, then my hair, smoothing it down and making sure every single strand stayed where it needed to be. If I was going to walk up to her after all these years, then I needed to look as close to perfection as possible. Five years is a long time not to see someone you used to call a friend, and now that I finally had the chance to stand in front of her again, I was planning to show her the very obvious difference between her low life and mine.
I wanted her to see it clearly, how my life had improved, how far ahead I was. I wanted her to realize that even after half a decade, even after all that time she had to “find herself,” she still couldn’t rise anywhere near the level I currently stood on. She was still beneath me, and I needed her to feel it.
As I walked closer to her, weaving through groups of chatting guests and waiters moving around with trays of drinks, my eyes automatically went to her outfit. I didn’t expect much — maybe something cheap and shiny, maybe one of those dresses you could buy online for a few dollars but the moment my eyes landed on what she was actually wearing, I paused.
I stopped completely.
The dress… the dress on her body looked expensive. Not just expensive, outrageously expensive. I was a woman who loved fashion, and not just the surface-level part — I knew fabrics, textures, stitching. I could spot a designer dress from the quality alone, even without seeing the tag. And what she had on… the fabric, the beading, the structure… it screamed luxury. From the looks of it, it was worth over fifty thousand dollars.
But that couldn’t be possible.
For a head waiter, if she was even the head — to wear something that expensive? Impossible. You might as well say my housekeeper could buy herself a Lamborghini on a part-time salary. It just didn’t make sense.
Even the dress I was currently wearing, though not the best or the most expensive piece in the world, was still about ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand. Do you know how much that is to some people? To people like her? That amount could feed a whole family for a year, and I was wearing it casually to an event. So if James, with all the wealth he currently had, bought me a ten-thousand-dollar dress… how on earth would Anna — someone who wasn’t even making ten thousand dollars in a year have over fifty thousand dollars to buy a single dress?
It just wasn’t possible.
I must have made a mistake… or maybe she stole it. Yes. That had to be it. She must have stolen the dress. Maybe from a store, maybe from someone she worked for, maybe from a client. Something. Because there was absolutely no way she could afford that dress from honest work. Not with the life she had.
Either that or she borrowed it. Or begged for it. Or lied to get it. I wouldn’t even be surprised.
Anyway, the dress wasn’t my problem. Not right now. I shouldn’t even be seen talking to someone like her. But just for old times’ sake, I would lower myself a little bit — just a tiny bit and show her the difference between beauty and hard work. Between me and her. Between a real woman and a wannabe.
“Make sure all the glasses are always filled, don’t wait for them to all go empty,” Anna said, giving directions to the other waiters.
Her voice sounded calm, almost bossy, and the group of waiters standing in front of her nodded immediately.
“Yes, ma’am,” one of them said before they all hurried away.
Yes ma’am?
Ma’am?
I almost snorted out loud. She was their fellow waiter — why were they addressing her like that? Were they confused? Did they look at the dress and draw the same wrong conclusion I did at first? That she wasn’t staff but someone important?
Ridiculous.
“Hey there, bestie,” I said, making sure the sarcasm in my tone was loud enough to cut through the air.
She froze for a moment, her back still turned to me. I knew she recognized my voice instantly, there was no way she wouldn’t. I noticed her shoulders slowly fall, like someone had just placed extra weight on them.
Then she finally turned around.
“Wow,” I said, widening my eyes just a little. “You look better than I thought you would. Honestly, after five years, I really assumed you would have died from hunger or something but here you are, so tell me, how’ve you been all these years? I mean… how did you survive?”
I had to bite down the laughter that threatened to spill out. God, this felt good. Too good.
“What do you want, Melissa?” she said, her voice cold. Completely cold. The look she gave me matched it — sharp, straight to the point, no emotion at all.
“Well,” I said, lifting my chin, “I want to know where you got such an amazing dress from. I mean… don’t you think stealing a dress just to come here and work part-time as a waiter is a little too much?”
I reached out and took a glass of champagne from one of the passing waiters, making sure she saw the confidence in my movement.
She let out a small scoff, and I saw the look on her face shift. She seemed almost surprised to hear what I just called her.
“A waiter, huh?” she said quietly.
“Of course,” I replied, taking a small sip from the glass. “Why else would a nobody like you be in a grand event like this? Look, we were once friends. I know your limits. I know the things you can do for money. I know the tricks you pull. So don’t try to pretend.”
Her face didn’t change, so I continued, leaning in slightly.
“I know you stole that dress, hoping if you wore something expensive to an event like this you could charm one of the big rich men who came here. But let me save you some time that’s not going to work.”
I let a slow smile spread across my face.
“You see, the men attending this event are way more sophisticated and elegant. They won’t even look twice at a poor, ugly, wannabe low life like you.”
I expected something — an angered expression, embarrassment, shame, anything. I wanted a reaction. Something to show she still felt small compared to me.
But I got nothing.
No emotion. No flinch. No sadness. Just a cold, unblinking glare that sent the smallest chill through my spine.