CHAP 2: THE VIP GALA
Friday night arrived. The Grand Imperial Hotel was a palace of glass, gold, and marble, glowing under the city lights. Valets in crisp uniforms parked a relentless parade of Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and Rolls-Royces. The city's elite—politicians, billionaires, and celebrities—chatted on the red carpet, their diamonds reflecting the flashbulbs of the paparazzi.
Among them, feeling entirely out of place, was Luis.
He had used a small fraction of the money to buy his mother a month's worth of premium medicine, and with the rest saved, he had purchased a simple but well-fitted dark suit. He looked sharp, his broad shoulders and honest eyes giving him an air of quiet dignity, despite his racing pulse.
As he walked up the marble steps, he clutched the black VIP card in his hand. The security guard at the door, seeing Luis’s lack of luxury accessories, stopped him with a cold glare.
"Invitation, please," the guard demanded.
Luis handed over the black card. The guard’s eyes went wide. He instantly bowed. "My apologies, sir. Please enter. You are a guest of honor."
Luis walked into the grand ballroom, stunned by the sheer opulence. Giant crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and servers carried silver trays of champagne. He felt like an impostor in a dream.
But the dream quickly threatened to turn into a nightmare.
"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."
Luis froze. He turned around to see a familiar, sneering face. It was Don Ernesto.
Ernesto was wearing a flashy, cheap-looking tuxedo that did nothing to hide his rotund figure. Next to him was a young woman caked in makeup, looking bored. Ernesto had managed to snag a low-level entry ticket to the gala through a minor supplier, hoping to network with the big players.
"Luis?" Ernesto laughed loudly, attracting the attention of nearby guests. "What are you doing here? Did you sneak in to clean the toilets? Or are you here to beg for your job back?"
"I was invited, Don Ernesto," Luis said calmly, keeping his voice steady despite the anger boiling inside him.
"Invited? You?" Ernesto scoffed, stepping closer, his breath smelling of cheap whiskey. "Don't make me laugh! You're a pathetic grease monkey who couldn't even afford his mother's pills. You probably stole that suit, or bought it from a dead man’s estate. Security! Security, over here!"
Several high-profile guests turned to watch the commotion. Ernesto smirked, relish-coating his words as he prepared to utterly destroy the boy.
"This kid is a thief!" Ernesto announced loudly to the crowd. "He used to work for me before I fired him for stealing from my shop. He's a fraud who doesn't belong among civilized people!"
Whispers broke out among the crowd. The security guards who had let Luis in hurried over, looking flustered.
"Is there a problem here, sir?" one of the guards asked Ernesto.
"Yes! This bum doesn't belong here. Look at him! He's a liar and a thief. Throw him out before he steals someone's wallet!" Ernesto demanded, pointing a stubby finger at Luis’s chest.
Luis stood his ground, his fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to strike the man, but he thought of his mother. He couldn't risk going to jail. "I did not steal anything. I have an invitation."
"Show it then, boy!" Ernesto sneered. "Or did you forge that too?"
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Just as the guards reached out to grab Luis’s arms, a powerful, commanding voice echoed through the ballroom, silencing the entire room.
"Remove your hands from my guest of honor this instant."
