Among the crowd stood Nathan Whitmore, a wealthy businessman known for arrogance and influence.
Holding a crystal glass, he examined Val with visible disgust.
"You actually came here looking like that?"
His words cut through the room.
The ballroom grew even quieter.
People waited for a reaction.
Expected tears.
Embarrassment.
Perhaps anger.
Instead, Val simply lowered her eyes for a moment.
Not out of shame.
But out of patience.
She remembered hospital rooms.
Military funerals.
Friends who never came home.
Compared to those memories, these insults meant nothing.
Finally, she looked up.
Her voice remained calm.
Steady.
Powerful.
"I came as myself."
The simple response unsettled everyone more than any argument could have.
Nathan smirked confidently.
Certain he had won.
He had no idea what was about to happen.