?Chapter 571:


    “What are you talking about? I was invited here.”


    Rosie scoffed,


    “Invited? Seriously? Do you honestly believe you’re on the guest list just because you own a couple of small studios? Take a good look at the crowd here today. You don’t belong here. Or do you really think you can be here because you are a Harper? Wake up! You have always been and will always be a nobody. Honestly, you should leave before they toss you out.”


    Rosie was itching to unload all the grievances she had bottled up regarding the Harper family onto Brenna. Originally, Shepard and Ernst were ted to return today, but as the hours ticked by, their absence seemed more certain.


    Their no-show only bolstered Rosie’s confidence, igniting a spark of belief that she could publicly humiliate Brenna in front of a crowd.


    She relished the moment as disdainful nces rained down on Brenna, with even those who once stood close to her beginning to move away.


    Brenna remainedposed. She pulled a prestigious gold ticket from her bag, holding it delicately between her index and middle fingers before presenting it to Rosie.


    “Take a look. I was invited.”


    “That’s not possible!” Rosie shouted, her voice a storm.


    She knew there were two kinds of royal invitations from Plieca. One was blue, themoner’s ticket, while the other was a coveted VIP ticket, rumored to be crafted from two grams of pure gold each.


    Among the throng of over three hundred guests, only a handful held VIP tickets. Even Ethan, the wealthiest man in the world, only had the blue one. It was unfathomable that Brenna could possess a gold one.


    Rosie scoffed with a mockingugh, casting a disdainful nce at the card without bothering to take it.


    “It’s a fake, isn’t it? Someone like you couldn’t possibly have a supreme VIP ticket. If I’m not mistaken, those tickets are crafted from pure gold. Did you whip one up yourself?”


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    She turned to the nearby security guard.


    “Verify this ticket now.”


    The guard’s expression darkened at her tant disrespect for the VIP guests. Rosie’s demand to inspect Brenna’s invitation was a double-edged insult, cutting both at Brenna’s status and at the guards’ hard-earned professionalism.


    How could they not tell the difference between a genuine ticket and a counterfeit? That would be an unforgivable blunder.


    Every guest’s invitation was meticulously cross-checked against the VIP database.


    There was no room for error.


    “This ticket is genuine,” the security guard said, his tone firm.


    Rosie’s fury red, and she turned her ire on him.


    “Did you even bother to inspect her invitation? I don’t think she has shown it since she walked in. If that invitation is fake, you could find yourself out of a job for such negligence.”


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