It wasn't just a display of wealth and influence; it was a battlefield of elegance, where reputations could be cemented or shattered with a single look, a single misstep, or the wrong shade of lipstick.
This year was no different, and as the mansion's grand doors opened, all eyes turned toward the staircase where the host family was to make their entrance. The room fell into an anticipatory hush, broken only by the occasional swish of silk gowns or the soft chime of crystal glasses.
"Are they late on purpose?" one guest whispered, adjusting her jewel encrusted tiara.
"Of course. It's the Arinzes. They thrive on suspense," another replied, her tone tinged with both envy and awe.
Then, the chandelier lights dimmed slightly, casting a warm golden glow over the room. A sharp drumbeat echoed, followed by a crescendo of classical music. The double doors at the top of the staircase swung open, revealing the patriarch of the family, Old Master, with his dazzling wife who seemed to look younger each day, on his arm.
They descended the staircase with an air of authority. Old Master and Mr. Arinze wore a matching custom made agbada adorned with intricate gold embroidery, every step they took exuding dominance.
They each held their companions, their wives. Ndidi, in a floor length gown of midnight blue silk, radiated fawned poise. The jewels on her neck sparkled as if they were alive, capturing the attention of everyone in the hall.
Behind them, Chibuzor appeared, his cold expression turning heads. Dressed in a sharp black tuxedo with a satin shawl collar, he embodied the ideal of an aloof, unattainable heir. His movements were precise, his gaze unwavering, daring anyone to approach.
Trailing behind him was Chukwudubem also dressed in a suit that looked conservative yet quite eye catching especially as it changed colours at every turn. Adanna followed after him in royal purple matching Old Madam's queen like dress. Ifeoma, resplendent in a fiery red dress with a dramatic train. Her makeup was flawless, her expression a mixture of haughtiness and charm. Ifeoma was no stranger to commanding attention and clearly intended to win this fashion war.
But someone was missing.
"Where's the rumoured new wife?" whispered one of the guests.
"Probably too embarrassed to show her face. You know how these low life brides are.....can't keep up with real aristocrats," another sneered.
Unbeknownst to them, Olaedo had already arrived, entering through a side door. She had a job to do. As a trained diplomat, she had been tasked with welcoming the foreign dignitaries attending the event, an opportunity Old Madam had insisted upon to subtly flaunt her postion and their family's international connections to the guests.
She stood near the entrance of the ballroom, dressed in a gown unlike anything anyone else wore. It was a custom creation: a fusion of traditional fabrics and modern haute couture. The bodice was fitted, made of handwoven aso oke in soft gold tones, while the skirt flowed dramatically with layers of tulle in ivory and champagne hues. A delicate cape draped over her shoulders, embroidered with shimmering threads that caught the light with every movement.
"Who is she?" murmured one of the younger guests, unable to take his eyes off her.
"She looks important, but I've never seen her before," another replied.
Olaedo's face was calm, professional, but her inner thoughts were less so.
'Why do these foreign guests always arrive with entourages? Do they think this is the United Nations?' She kept her polite smile in place, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries as more dignitaries arrived.
But not everyone was impressed.
"She's trying too hard," one of the socialites muttered loudly enough for Olaedo to hear.
"Probably one of those new money types," another chimed in. "They always overdress."
Olaedo ignored them, but her patience was tested when one particularly bold woman approached her. The guest, a socialite named Amaka, sauntered over with a glass of champagne in hand.
"I couldn't help but notice you've been standing here for ages. Are you the hired help?" Amaka asked, her tone dripping with condescension.
Olaedo's smile didn't falter. "Not at all. I'm here on behalf of the Arinze family to welcome our esteemed guests."
"Oh? And what's your relation to the family?"
"I'm a part of the family," Olaedo replied, her voice steady but her eyes sharp.
Amaka laughed mockingly. "Really? I don't recall ever seeing you before. Maybe you're just saying that to save face."
Olaedo raised a brow, tilting her head slightly with a mocking smile. "Oh really?" she began in an exaggeratedly sweet tone before it turned sharp. "You don't even know who I am. With your level of ignorance, even the hired helps wouldn't accept you into their group."
Amaka's face flushed red with indignation, and Olaedo snickered. "Heh, couldn't even handle one sentence from me? Move along, dear. I don't have the time, or patience for this."
Amaka, fuming like an overfilled kettle, opened her mouth to retort, but another sharp voice cut through the tension.
"Low life in a dress unworthy of her, stop pretending you're the rumoured new Young Madam. I'm a very close relative of the Arinzes, and they've never mentioned you. Not once!"
Olaedo turned her gaze toward the new voice, her smile deepening into something mysterious. "Really now? That's interesting. Because I've been with the Arinze family for a while, and I don't recall anyone mentioning you."
The woman's expression twisted with anger, but she wasn't ready to concede defeat. Her voice sharpened. "Imposter, you sure talk big. Almost had me convinced you were important. But I'll expose you for the fraud you are right here, right now!"
With dramatic flair, she waved a security guard over. The man approached briskly, his posture professional and his expression neutral. "What seems to be the issue, ma'am?"
The woman pointed at Olaedo with disdain as if swatting away an insect. "She doesn't have an invitation and is claiming to be your Young Madam! Do your job before the real Young Madam arrives and sees this farce!!"