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Ice and Lies
Under Moon light , but the air outside "Scoops & Swirls" felt oddly cool, courtesy of the huge, bright pink sign advertising its famous "SubZero Sundaes." Jake leaned against the brick wall, casually listening as Ronnie explained a situation with a normal, almost bored tone.
"While we were chasing her, she got into an accident," Ronnie finished, licking a stray drop of chocolate off his thumb.
Jake merely arched an eyebrow, his gaze drifting over the bustling street. Then, a sharp, clear voice sliced through the chatter.
"Who got accident?"
Ronnie and Jake froze, turning in unison.
Standing just a few feet away was Lara, but her presence was a force field. Her expression was utterly unreadable—a perfect, unwavering mask of emotionless inquiry. Ronnie felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He'd seen that look before; it meant she was hunting for the truth, and she was ruthless about it.
Lara approached, her steps slow and deliberate, shrinking the distance between them. When she stopped, she didn't raise her voice, but the question landed with the weight of a stone.
"Ronnie, who got into an accident?"
Ronnie felt panic. He was terrible at lying to Lara, especially when her eyes were that empty and focused. Before he could stammer out a clumsy half-truth, Jake stepped smoothly forward, his face a straight, honest canvas.
"Elisabeth, who got a small scrape five years ago. Ronnie was just bringing it up because she's having bad luck with cars lately," Jake said, his voice flat and perfectly sincere.
Ronnie mentally sagged with relief. Jake's lie was so smooth it could have been polished glass. Ronnie nodded quickly, grateful for the save.
Lara seemed to accept the information instantly. "Oh. When?"
"Five years ago," Jake repeated, shrugging. "A small fender-bender. Nothing that mattered."
Just then, the bell above the ice cream shop door chimed, and Elisabeth, giggling over her massive cone, stepped out. She looked up, hearing her name, and stopped, confused. "Who? Me? What did I get five years ago?"
Jake didn't hesitate. He took two long strides, closed the distance, and gently, yet firmly, grabbed her hand—a move that looked protective and intimate. He pulled her toward the sleek black car parked at the curb, essentially dragging her away from the conversation. Elisabeth didn't expect the contact, but the moment his cold fingers wrapped around her warm hand, her brain rebooted. She found herself staring at him, completely melted by the sudden proximity.
"What did you ask, Elisabeth?" Jake asked, his voice low and rich, sounding genuinely concerned.
"N-nothing," she whispered, her confusion wiped away by the heat in her cheeks.
Lara watched the scene, her face now etched with a deeper, cold suspicion. She was afraid. Afraid that the man seemed love with Gabriella was just a handsome player, toying with another girl. She was afraid he was playing with Gabriella's feelings.
Ronnie lightly tugged at her shoulder, pulling her attention back. "What is your friend actually doing? Is he playboy ? " She asked.
A knowing smirk playing on his lips, "Can't you see ?".
Lara's eyes widened in genuine shock. "Sometimes," Ronnie confirmed.
"If he messes with Gabby, I won't leave him alone," Lara declared, her voice low and dangerous.
Ronnie chuckled softly and placed his finger lightly on her glossy, berry-tinted lips, effectively silencing her. "Don't worry," he whispered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "He actually doesn't like Elisabeth. Don't overthink it, Lara."
Lara instantly yanked his finger away. Inside the car, Jake and Elisabeth raised a hand and waved as they drove off. Ronnie waved back enthusiastically, but Lara remained still, her suspicious gaze fixed on the empty space where the car had been.
The Queen of Schemes
The Grand Mansion was a labyrinth of marble and chandeliers, currently decked out in shimmering gold and pearl white. It was Raina's twentieth birthday, and the decorations were extravagant, a symbol of the wealth Gabriella intended to strip away.
At the top of the sweeping, curved staircase stood Dona. She looked incredible, statuesque in a floor-length, night-blue long gown. The silk hugged her frame perfectly, making her look like a distant, untouchable star. She held a half-empty wine glass, the rich red liquid catching the chandelier light.
She opened a game app on her phone—a strategic empire builder she used to distract herself. A wave of irritation washed over her when she saw her annoying player, "HotJas," was online. She immediately opened his chat.
HotJas: Hey Shotie. You came. Why are you avoiding me these days?
Dona sighed, her annoyance dissolving the last sip of wine. Shotie.
Dona: Why are you still calling me shotie? Do you even know my real height?
HotJas didn't reply. The three dots that indicated he was typing just flickered, then vanished. Dona whispered to herself, "I know it's you, Ajax. Why are you still pretending to be a stranger?" Ajax, the genius heir, was the only one she knew with that level of strategy and that juvenile sense of humor.
An idea sparked in her mind, a risky, thrilling temptation.
Dona: Fine. I won't avoid you anymore. But you have to show up. In person.
The typing dots appeared, vanished, reappeared. After a tense few minutes, HotJas finally replied.
HotJas: Are you dying to see handsome me?
Dona rolled her eyes, scoffing quietly. "Who, you? Not in my dreams, though," she muttered, then typed a new challenge.
Dona: Oh, so you're afraid to face me, right?
HotJas replied with a simple, audacious smirk emoji, then typed: Why are you in such a hurry? We will meet when the time is right.
And then, he logged off. Dona huffed. "He logged off! Oh, man. I know it's you!"
Suddenly, her phone vibrated with a message from Gabriella. Dona's jaw tightened. She whispered, "Oh no. So I have to do this, too." She drained the remaining wine in one swift gulp, handed the empty glass to a passing waitress, and turned, her gown swirling behind her. The mission had officially begun.
The Falling Star
The rooftop was a sea of moving bodies, flashing lights, and loud, pulsing music, but Gabriella moved through it with a singular, quiet focus. She walked across the tiled floor of the party area, her every step echoing not with noise, but with an inherent, chilling authority. She was wearing elegant ash cocktail dress—sleeveless and sharp—that contrasted starkly with the opulence around her, making her look like a dark, deliberate secret.
Her eyes were fixed on the gigantic LED screen displaying Raina's smiling photo and video montages. Gabriella smiled, but it was a cold, fleeting twist of her lips that instantly vanished, replaced by an unsettling calm.
Then, the first flakes began to fall. The air grew suddenly sharp and clean as the season's inaugural snow drifted down onto the warm roof. Gabriella looked up, closing her eyes for a moment, letting the gentle, icy touch kiss her skin.
Crack.
The sound of glass shattering immediately behind her made her eyes snap open. As she spun around to investigate, a nearly invisible wire, expertly strung low across the walkway, caught her ankle.
She was already falling before her brain could register the danger. Her eyes locked on the floor: a glittering, jagged pile of broken champagne flutes lay exactly where she was about to land. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable disaster—the tearing skin, the pain, the ruin of her perfect composure.
But the disaster never came.
A figure barged into her from the side, a blur of motion from nowhere. A strong, cold hand wrapped around her arm, not catching, but spinning her. The momentum yanked her upright, and she found herself pressed against a chest she didn't recognize. His other hand was covering her back, pulling her close. She could feel the steady, rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath her palm.
Immediately, she twisted her head. Beside her, mere inches from where she now stood, lay the broken, dangerous glass. The reality of the near-miss—the potential disaster—sent a wave of sickening panic through her.
She turned her gaze up to face her savior.
He was a stranger. She had never seen this face in the Grand Mansion's elite circle before. His jawline was sharp as a knife, his nose aristocratic and straight. His hair was midnight black, save for one or two striking strips of pure white that fell over his forehead. His eyes, a shade of deep, searching grey, were frantically scanning the ground, assessing the danger she had just escaped.
The silence was broken only by the sound of the soft snow continuing to fall like a hesitant blessing.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice a deep, rough velvet, laced with genuine, caring concern.
He was incredibly handsome, breathtakingly stunning. Gabriella wanted to speak, to thank him, to know who he was, but her throat constricted. She was incapable of forming a single word.
Their eyes locked, silver and dark, amidst the softly falling snow.
Was this a rescue... or the start of something that would ruin all of Gabriella's careful plans? Was this the beginning of the revenge... or a new, dangerous love story?
***eof
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To be Continued.....
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