Do you even know who I am

The woman who had just insulted me was quite a sight. She was noticeably heavyset, with an air of entitlement that clung to her like a perfume. Her skin was pale, almost ivory, and her cheeks were flushed with indignation.

Her hair was a rich chestnut brown, styled into elegant waves that framed her face. She had piercing blue eyes, cold and calculating, which now burned with anger as they bore into me.

Her dress was undoubtedly designer, a deep emerald green that complemented her eyes and clung to her curves. The fabric shimmered subtly under the restaurant's soft lighting, hinting at its expensive quality.

She wore a pair of sparkling diamond earrings and a matching necklace that screamed wealth. Her shoes were black stilettos with red soles, unmistakably Louboutins, and they added a few inches to her height, making her seem even more imposing.