Get Ready For Allvar Falck's Ruthless Return

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Allvar stepped into 'La Maison Élégance', feeling the stares hit him like a wave. He had never cared much about formalities, but the tension in the air made it impossible to ignore. His t-shirt and jeans suddenly felt too casual, too plain, for a place where even the chandeliers seemed to judge him. The murmurs started almost immediately, and his heart raced as he made his way toward the front desk.

“Is that the guy with the Ferrari?” A woman’s whisper barely reached his ears, but the sharp tone pierced through.

“He doesn’t 'look' like someone who should be driving one,” her husband scoffed, giving Allvar a once-over that lingered just long enough to burn.

Allvar’s cheeks flushed, and he quickened his pace, wishing he could disappear.

“Really?” another voice chimed in from his left. “A t-shirt and jeans at 'La Maison Élégance'?” The woman snickered, nudging her friend. “I guess he thinks money equals class.”

Her friend’s laughter echoed as Allvar passed by, his shoulders stiffening