Clara Thompson, a 22-year-old waitress, kept her head down as she weaved between the sun loungers. Sweat rolled down her spine beneath her cheap uniform. Her shift was already brutal — twelve hours straight, understaffed, overworked — but she needed the paycheck to cover the month’s rent. She balanced a tray of cocktails, praying no one would demand anything unreasonable.

That’s when she saw her.

Vivienne Hartley.
Influencer. Socialite. Heiress.
The kind of woman who believed “thank you” was vocabulary for lesser beings.

Vivienne lounged in a white designer swimsuit, surrounded by friends who laughed too hard at her jokes and drank whatever she pointed at. Clara had already served her twice. The first time, Vivienne complained the drink was “too cold.” The second time, she complained it was “not cold enough.”