Violet decided she hated the Elites. Not because they were headed by her nemesis Elsie Lancaster but because they were all vain and fake.
Everything about the Luncheon revolved around position, appearance, and who got seated where to maximize matchmaking potential. No discussion about legacy values. No talk about leadership, vision, or growth.
Just which girl best matched which alpha's bloodline like this was a goddamn dress fitting.
As if that wasn't already enough, they were soon grouped into their roles, and of course, Violet and her friends were assigned as waitresses.
How predictable.
Now they stood through a long-winded lecture on how to serve, present, smile, speak politely—blah, blah, blah. All of it made Violet's stomach churn so hard she genuinely considered vomiting. This wasn't her scene. It was suffocating, nauseating, and downright insulting.