They didn't even—" she began to think, her eyes darting around the room.
She clenched her jaw and took a step forward, her presence demanding acknowledgment.
Still, no one seemed to care.
At one table, Mo Zi Lin was playfully piling food onto Chen Mumu's plate. At another, Director Zhang was deep in conversation with the cinematographer, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks.
Chen Xu's fingers tightened around the strap of her purse. Her carefully crafted entrance, meant to dazzle and dominate, had fallen flat.
She stood there for a beat longer, unsure of her next move, before Rui Li, who had followed her inside, whispered nervously, "Miss Chen, maybe we should—"
"Quiet," she snapped under her breath, her voice cold.
Straightening her shoulders, she strode toward the nearest table, forcing herself to smile again.
"They'll notice eventually," she told herself, her heels clicking rhythmically on the polished floor. "They have to."
