My blood ran cold as my boyfriend’s father sneered, “Street trash in a borrowed dress,” across the silent table. The billionaire met my gaze, lingering on my humiliation. Twenty-three elite guests sat frozen, watching me unravel. I stood slowly, pulse racing, a smile touching my lips. Empires collapse quietly. My blood turned to ice the moment Ethan’s father, Thomas Prescott, leaned back in his leather dining chair and sneered, “Street garbage in a borrowed dress.” His voice sliced through the s