Phoebe Fortunata was a silent architect of an Empire, and tonight she sat in her VIP throne like a Queen watching her masterpiece. Clad in a luxurious white blazer, she watched the man on stage, the man she had built from the ground up, with a pride that burned brighter than Ballroom's crystal chandeliers.
"Apart from my colleagues, I would also like to thank someone who has helped me immensely to become the man I am today. She is the most important woman in my life."
All eyes turned toward her. The invited guests knew exactly who she was, and they were waiting for the man to mention Phoebe's name as the Queen behind his success.
"Thank you very much, Hanna."
Phoebe's smile disappeared instantly, her eyes widened in shock, her chest began to heave with a mounting storm of fury. The speech ended like that, as if he hadn't forgotten at thing, as if she didn't exist. Just then
Phoebe got up, her steps heavy with rage as she stormed out of the hall. She immediately contacted someone.
"Hello Miss, what's wrong?"
"Book the earliest flight available, now!" she commanded, her voice cold and deadly serious.
"Flight tickets? Where is the ticket to Miss?"
Phoebe's anger flared, but she paused for a second to think. Which country should she choose. "It's up to you anywhere! Europe—oh yes! Italy! Prepare the fastest flight to Italy tonight!"
"Is this for business, Miss? Should I prepare the documents?"
"I'm not hiring you to ask questions, Zara! I'm telling you to book that flight right now!"
"Understood, Miss. For how many people?"
"Three, you're coming with us!"
"I have to go too? What should I prepare?"
"Just prepare yourself!"
Phoebe cut the call before Zara could utter another word. She took one long, shaky breath, trying to force the storm in her chest into a cold, hard diamond. She stepped into her car, the engine roaring to life liked a caged beast finally set free. She didn't look back at the Hall.
*****
Celia, having just heard her best friend's explanation, sprang to her feet in utter disbelief. "Are you crazy? You're asking me to fly out tonight, without any preparation?!"
"Just bring yourself! I'll take care of everything you need there."
"But what, about my clothes? My essentials?"
"You still have a little time before Zara gets that ticket, because I just told her to look for her flight ticket."
Celia took a breath, trying to proses and calm the chaos. "Okay, okay …calm down. This isn't the first time you've dragged me into a last-minute whim, but where are we going tonight?"
"Italy."
"What?! Are you serious?"
Phoebe's nod was cold and resolute. "I'm not even going home, maybe later my belongings will be delivered directly to the airport."
Celia studied Phoebe intently, sensing the shift in her aura. There was something different, a coldness behind Phoebe's eyes that she couldn't quite hide. "What's really going on? Why the sudden flight to Italy tonight? Weren't you supposed to accompany Nick to his award ceremony tonight?"
A bitter, crooked smile formed on Phoebe's lip. She exhaled a weary breath and sat down heavily "In short, I'm heartbroken."
"Heartbroken? Again? What has that man done to you?!"
"The suspicions I tried to deny … they're all true," Phoebe sighed. "He cheated."
Celia gasped. "Did you see it for yourself? How could you catch him?"
Phoebe took a heavy breath, jagged breath. "I'll tell you everything later. Right now, I'm still too livid to even think straight. I can't accept it, why would I be betrayed by a man like him!"
"Okay, calm down, breathe. I will get you some water." Celia left her side, but Phoebe's hands remained clenched. Her breathing grew ragged as memory of every 'normal' moment she had once ignore began to resurface, now looking hard, cold, and like undeniable evidence.
*****
Milan, Italy.
Celia watched her best friend sitting at a polished marble bar that glistened under the warm glow of a crystal lamp. This was no ordinary bar; it was the beating heart of Milan's elite—a Private Lounge where power and influence were poured into glasses of expensive whiskey.
Amidst sophisticated hum of the room, Phoebe swirled her glass, her gaze fixed intently on the dancing ice cube within the amber liquid. She signaled the bartender for another, draining the glass in a single, reckless gulp.
"Hey! Stop! Don't keep drinking like that! Are you trying to finish every bottle in the cellar?!" Celia's eyes widened in alarm.
"I just need to be calm." Phoebe replied with a hollow, artificial smile as she took another glass. "The drinks here … they taste so much better than the ones in Sydney."
"They taste better, because you trying to drown a broken heart!"
A bitter, slanted smile etched itself onto Phoebe's face. It was true, everything tasted better when she was looking for an escape from the pain after betrayal. "Don't you want to drink with me?"
"I'll stick to my one glass. If I finish a whole bottle, we might end up as a meal for the sharks who own this place!" Celia said, feeling a wave of nausea just looking at the number of empty glasses Phoebe had managed to stuck up.
Phoebe ignore the warning, her focus remaining on the alcohol. It was impossible to stop her.
"Be, there's an incoming call from Zara. It looks like it's important business." Celia held up Phoebe's phone, the screen glowing.
"I don't want to think about work. If you want to tell her... just take it." Phoebe's voice was already sounding thick and hoarse.
"Fine, I'll take this outside. But, please don't you dare move! Stay right here, if you don't want to be shark bait!" Celia warned seriously, before disappearing toward a quieter corner of the Lounge to answer Zara call's.
Less than ten minutes after Celia left, Phoebe found herself on the dance floor. She let go of the crushing weight on her heart, losing herself in the rhythm while swaying with a glass of rose in her hand. The alcohol in her system was peaking; the music and her mind were no longer in sync.
The floor beneath her felt uneven, like a boat in a storm. Unknowingly she had stumbled past the velvet ropes of the restricted VIP area. Phoebe tried to steady herself, but the world spun violently. She scrambled to find a seat, but, her legs felt like lead, unable to support her weight any longer.
She didn't hit the cold floor. Instead, she tumbled onto something firm, warm, and scented with a fragrance far mor intoxicating than any wine. Her vision was a blurred haze, the glass in her hand tilted, it's crimson content spilling over the expensive suit of the man beneath her.
"Ah, damn!" Phoebe muttered, her world spiraling into the chaos.
Immediately, three burly men stepped forward, their shadows looming over her like predators. "Don't mess with him! Get away from the Boss!" one of them growled, reaching out to grab her.
But the man held up a hand, a silent command that froze his bodyguard in their tracks. They stood like statues, stunned. Normally, no woman was allowed to even stand near their Boss, yet here he was, letting a drunken stranger snuggle into his lap.
Phoebe looked breathtaking as she curled against him. Her dress had ridden up, revealing the elegant curve of her thighs. The scent of her expensive perfume mingled with the wine, creating a heady aroma. Her cheeks were flushed a deep rose from the alcohol, and her lipstick remained flawlessly provocative under the dim VIP light.
"Why… why do you look so handsome?" Phoebe's whispered, her hand tracing the sharp lines of the man's face. She gazed into his eyes, lost in the haze. "And why does your body feel so hot?"
The man felt Phoebe's warm breath in his neck. A cunning smile played on his lips as Phoebe's hand wandered down his chest, teasing the fabric of his shirt. "Do you want to play a scene that might make you even hotter, Miss?" he murmured.
Without effort, he lifted her as if she weighed nothing, he held Phoebe so gently. "Prepare a room," he commanded, his voice vibrating with authority.
"Yes, boss."
As they moved toward the VVIP suite, Phoebe's fingers continued to gently stroke the nape of his neck, tracing the precise line of his jaw. The touch grew more intense with every step. His men threw the double doors, allowing him to enter his private sanctuary.
"Let's play with me, Sweety." He lowered Phoebe onto the plush mattress, his hand lingering on her thigh. The quiet, cool atmosphere of the room vanished instantly, replaced by a slow burning desire that threatened to consume them both.