Ophelia's smile, which had been so carefully crafted, began to waver. The initial thrill of getting an award and being recognized for her philanthropic work, the promise of boasting to the ladies at her bridge club, was rapidly fading, replaced by a growing sense of unease. She scanned the room, her gaze lingering on the decorations, the party favors, the general atmosphere. Something was… off.
The banners, the balloons, the sheer exuberance of the crowd – it did not align with the image of a sophisticated charity event. It felt more like… a birthday party. A lavish, extravagant birthday party, but a birthday party nonetheless.
A cold dread began to creep into her heart. She had been so convinced that she was attending a prestigious gala, a celebration of her achievements. But now, she was starting to suspect that she had been mistaken. Terribly mistaken.
