"Exactly! All of us waited forever for her, and she just waltzes right in? Where are our invitations?" another parent chimed in, equally furious.
Just as they were standing there, seething and bewildered, a sharply dressed middle-aged man who had watched the entire spectacle let out a snort of laughter. He spoke with a dripping sense of superiority: "Stop your whining. That wasn't whatever 'Cyrilla' you're waiting for."
"Not Cyrilla?" Mabel's head whipped around, her voice pitching up. "How is that possible! Aside from Mr. Shapiro's girlfriend, who else gets to ride in his private car with that many bodyguards?"
The middle-aged man looked at them like they were a bunch of country bumpkins. He drawled slowly, "That was the Lonsdales' long-lost heiress—the one they found not too long ago. I heard the Lonsdales are already planning a massive welcome-home gala. You don't even know that, and you actually have the nerve to show up for the 'Futura-Silicon' bidding?"
"The... the Lonsdale family's heiress?" Mabel was struck dumb, her jaw dropping wide enough to fit an egg.
The other parents froze on the spot. Their faces drained of color, then flushed red with embarrassment.
"The Lonsdales? The ultra-elite Lonsdale family? I thought they only had sons!"
The man scoffed again. "You really don't know? Everyone in high society knows by now. The Lonsdales had a daughter who went missing for over a decade. They just found her this year. Rumor has it that old Gordon and his grandsons treat her like absolute royalty. That Shapiro motorcade was probably sent just to give her a grand entrance."
"Oh my god... We just yelled 'Cyrilla' at the Lonsdale heiress? And charged her like that?"
"It's over, it's all over... We just humiliated ourselves on a galactic scale! The way we acted just now..."
An overwhelming wave of shame and terror completely engulfed Mabel and the others. Someone from another family tried to comfort them, saying, "It's fine, we'll just wait for Cyrilla. The Shapiros and the Lonsdales have always been close. The Lonsdale heiress won't hold our faux pas against us out of respect for the future Mrs. Shapiro."
Mabel mumbled her agreement, but a seed of doubt had already taken root in her mind. If the Shapiros' private car was used to pick up the Lonsdale heiress, how was Cyrilla getting to the venue? Was she running late because she didn't have a ride?
As soon as the thought popped into her head, Mabel viciously shoved it down. She mentally mocked herself for overthinking. No matter what, Mr. Shapiro's girlfriend would surely arrive in a luxury private car.
She just needed to wait. Wait a little longer.
Right at that moment, the screech of rushed brakes pierced the air.

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