As the clock ticked towards the main event of the evening—the couple’s first dance—a minor mishap occurred. A guest accidentally tipped over a glass of red wine. The liquid spread like a crimson shadow across the pristine white tablecloth, threatening to mar the image of perfection so meticulously curated by the wedding planners.

Sloan, noticing the spill, called out to the maid with a sharpness that cut through the jovial air. “Can’t you be faster?” she snapped, her voice dripping with entitlement. “We have guests here, important people. You should be grateful to even be in this room.”