BEATEN

LAVAE RESTAURANT

“Excuse me, I can't sit here. Change the seat and the table,” Margaret Barnes said to the waiter with a disgusted look on her face.

Her bag hung halfway above her wrist. The way her fingers perched firm yet light against gravity as if signalling to be watched, and her ornaments embodied nothing but luxury.

Eyes were on her and she knew it but she didn't care anyways. She was the queen of highlights and this place survived on her father's huge sponsorship.

“I’m sorry ma'am, but these are the same kinds of seats and tables around here. If you'd like I can take you to the VIP room–”

She spun and shot him a look. “Would you rather lose your job?”

The man swallowed whatever next he was whipping up to say, zipped his mouth very carefully and left to do as instructed. .

It wasn't a new thing and it was no doubt Margaret wasn't just saying mere words. The workers knew.

Minutes later, the waiter returned with a new set of seats and table.

Margaret looked at him and then