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Chapter 2

The airport buzzed with a cacophony of noise and activity as I strutted confidently towards my assigned plane. Every step echoed with superiority, drawing the attention of onlookers. The flight attendants and airport staff, mere pawns in my world, scurried around in a futile attempt to keep up with my presence.

My luggages, brimming with the finest and most expensive clothing money could buy, were swiftly dispatched and checked. The attendants hesitated for a moment, their eyes widening as they observed the opulence of my belongings.

They knew better than to question me of course.

As I approached the entrance of the plane, a flight attendant, ignorant of my identity, dared to stand in my way. His voice quivered as he attempted to halt my progress, oblivious to the grave mistake he was making.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he stammered, his outstretched arm an ineffectual barrier. "I need to see your boarding pass."

A wicked smile danced on my lips as I tilted my head, allowing my icy gaze to meet his trembling eyes. With a single glance, I conveyed the superiority I held over him.

"Darling," I purred, my voice dripping with condescension. "Do you truly believe I would stoop so low as to travel without the appropriate documentation?"

Recognition dawned on his face, mingled with a fear that consumed him. He recoiled as if scorched by my presence, desperately trying to rectify his error.

"J-Juliette Wayne?" he gasped, his words a mere whisper, as if afraid the walls themselves might hear.

"My sincerest apologies, Ms. Wayne," he stammered, his voice laden with trepidation. "Please, proceed. Your seat awaits you."

Satisfied with the fear that now permeated his being, I brushed past him, reveling in my power. I knew that no one dared to cross Juliette Wayne and live to tell the tale. The world was my stage, and I was the unrivaled star.

Inside the plane, opulence embraced me—a testament to my unwavering success. The plush seats exuded comfort, tailored to cater to my every desire. Flight attendants scurried around, eager to appease me and ensure my satisfaction. I settled into my designated seat, the epitome of luxury.

A flight attendant, having learned of my earlier encounter, approached me with caution. His eyes flickered with a mix of deference and curiosity—a recognition of my stature.

"May I be of assistance, Ms. Wayne?" he asked, his voice tinged with a combination of awe and trepidation.

I regarded him with a cool detachment, relishing in the power I held over him and all who crossed my path.

"Bring me a glass of the finest champagne you have," I commanded, my voice laced with a sense of pride.

He nodded hurriedly, scurrying off to fulfill my request. It was a fleeting moment, a reminder of the control I exerted over those who served me. As the flight attendant returned, carefully presenting the crystal flute filled with golden bubbles, he approached with a newfound caution, his eyes downcast.

I took a sip of the champagne, its effervescence dancing on my tongue, and I allowed myself a moment to reflect on my journey. The obstacles I had overcome, the sacrifices I had made—they had all molded me into the indomitable force that I was now. No one could deny the power of Juliette Wayne.

The intercom crackled to life, announcing the boarding of the flight—a first-class passage to my next conquest. I rose from my seat with an air of regality, the embodiment of poise and confidence.

As I reclined in my seat, relishing the exquisite taste of champagne on my tongue.A thought came to mind.

Why not take a picture?

I reached into my designer handbag and retrieved my phone, poised to immortalize my flawless visage.

Positioning the phone at the perfect angle, ensuring that my best side was on full display, I held it steady. With a self-assured smile curling my lips, I prepared to capture my gorgeous face, a living masterpiece.

But just as I was about to press the shutter button, a sudden jolt sent a ripple of panic through my body. In an instant, the champagne spilled, leaving an unsightly residue on my pristine skirt.

"What the fuck!"

My Designer skirt

Ruined

Am I invisible to him?

However, my anger was short-lived, as the person continued walking towards the other side of the plane where a curtain demarcated a restricted area. Frustration bubbled within me, a volcano ready to erupt, but by the time I get up from my seat two imposing men dressed in black intercepted my path, blocking any chance of retaliation.

"Excuse me?" I hissed, my voice dripping with venomous disgust."Let me through"

"I'm sorry madam that won't be possible"one of them states

"Can you not see what that little idiot did to my skirt? Do you have any idea how much this ensemble costs?"

The men exchanged a glance, their stoic faces betraying no emotion. Without a word, they maintained their stance, refusing to yield to my demands.

"This section is for VIP guests only," one of them finally spoke, his voice as cold and unyielding as steel. "You are prohibited from entering."

The audacity of their words struck me like a venomous serpent, injecting a potent mix of rage and indignation into my veins. How dare they treat me,with such contempt?

I was the epitome of elegance and influence, deserving of utmost respect.

My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to regain composure. It was a battle between pride and reason, but reason eventually prevailed. Engaging in a futile argument with these security guards would only tarnish my reputation further.

I took a deep breath, releasing the pent-up frustration that threatened to consume me. With a regal tilt of my chin, I mustered every ounce of dignity I possessed.

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

The men remained unfazed, their unwavering gazes fixed on me.

"No"they both state in uniform

"What?"

Do these people live under a rock?

As I stood there, seething with anger and confronting the unyielding men in black, a slight tremor ran through the air. The flight attendants, sensing the tension that surrounded me, approached cautiously, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and concern. One of them mustered the courage to step closer, while the other maintained a safe distance, ready to retreat at the first sign of my explosive rage.

"Madam, what may be the problem?" the attendant inched closer, his voice quivering with apprehension. His eyes darted nervously between me and the formidable figures beside me, unsure of how to navigate this delicate situation.

Fury still bubbling within me, I spared the flight attendant a piercing glance before launching into a tirade, recounting the affront I had endured at the hands of the champagne-saboteur. I demanded to see this person, to give them a taste of their own medicine, and I insisted on being granted access to the restricted area where they had taken refuge.

But as the attendant's brow glistened with perspiration and his words stumbled out in a nervous stammer, I realized that my demands would not be met so easily. "I'm sorry, madam," he began, his voice strained. "I can't do that. Please, calm down."

Shock washed over me like a sudden wave, temporarily halting the torrent of my anger. How could they refuse me, the embodiment of power and influence?

The attendant and his colleague pleaded with me, their voices tinged with desperation. They promised to make my journey ten times more enjoyable if I complied, their words laced with a hint of desperation. Sensing their vulnerability, I decided to exercise restraint, bottling up my anger for the time being.

I decided to take pity on them

But only because they looked like they were going to shit their pants.Probably scared they'll lose their jobs.

However, the men in black remained stoic, unyielding in their vigilance.

As the plane finally took off, soaring through the vast expanse of the sky, I vowed to myself that this was not the end of the matter. Whoever dared to cross me would face the consequences of their actions. I was not one to be trifled with, and their moment of reckoning would come.

While the attendants scurried about, attending to the needs of the passengers, I sat in quiet contemplation. Revenge simmered beneath the surface, fueling my determination to unmask the culprit and deliver justice with my own hands. They had disrupted my moment of triumph, tarnishing my pristine image, and for that, they would pay dearly.

In the depths of my soul, a fire burned brighter than ever before. As the plane hurtled towards its destination, I planned and strategized, envisioning the satisfying downfall of the person who had dared to cross me. They would soon realize the gravity of their mistake and tremble in fear at the mere mention of my name.

A wicked smile played upon my lips as I plotted my revenge. The journey may have started with an unwelcome spill, but it would end with a triumphant display of my indomitable spirit. No one, not even the person who had stained my skirt, would escape my wrath.

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