Alodie stepped out from the cool, leather interior of the Bentley and into the oppressive heat of the Barese ballroom entrance. With every step, her thigh-high slit offered a tantalizing glimpse of her pale, flawless skin.
Her golden hair, usually pulled into a neat bun, now fell in silken waves around her face.
As she entered the grand hall, the buzz of conversation around her died. Heads turned. Gentlemen paused mid-sentence, their glasses lowered. Ladies stiffened, their gazes sharpening with envy.
"Who is that?"
"I've never seen her. Is she foreign royalty?"
"Look at that dress... it must cost more than someone's house."
A small smirk played on Alodie's lips. This was her entrance, her power move. Her gaze swept across the room, cool and assessing, noting the marble columns, the gilded ceilings, the crystal chandeliers that rained fractured light onto the polished floor.
Across the room, the Rhodes family was gathered. Kirsty, in a frothy pastel pink gown that made her look more like a child than the woman she tried to portray, was clinging to a tall, handsome man. Mr. Rhodes was trying too hard to impress a group of investors, and Sheila was scanning the room anxiously for Mr. Cullinham.
Then Kirsty caught sight of Alodie striding through the room confidently.
The colour drained from her face as she realized in a fury that Alodie was not wearing the Yellow polyester dress she had specially chosen for her.
She had intended for Alodie to look like the vagrant that she was, but instead she looked like royalty.
Kirsty's grip on the man tightened, her nails digging into his arm.
Then her eyes sparkled as she thought of a plan.
"Dominic sweetie." She said sweetly, loud enough to be heard by the people around her. "Look who has finally shown up, It's Alodie."
Kirty's companion stiffened and he looked up. He had not expected to see Alodie.
He allowed himself to be dragged through the crowd until they got to a stop before Alodie.
"Look who is here Alodie," Kirsty chirped, running her hand dramatically down Dominic's arm. "I am sure you are shocked to see him."
She paused and looked around to be sure she had a captive audience. "You remember him, don't you? You were so hopelessly in love with him."
The crowd nearby answered with cruel laughter.
Alodie's gaze didn't waver from Kirsty's face. She didn't even spare a glance for the man beside her, though she could feel the familiar, unwelcome warmth of his presence like a furnace beside her. The man she had once loved with a fierce, all-consuming passion. The man who had vanished without a trace.
He had chosen the family who held her inheritance over the girl they called a charity case.
Dominic stared at Alodie, his eyes stopping at the slit in her crimson gown. A flash of lust, perhaps even regret, danced in his gaze before he masked it with arrogant indifference. He adjusted his cuff, looking down at her.
"Alodie," he said, his voice a low rumble that once used to make her melt. "I'm… surprised to see you here. Looking so…" He struggled for the right word, his eyes taking in the impossible, radiant woman before him. "...Well."
Kirsty smiled, pressing a possessive kiss to Dominic's cheek. "Oh, he's just being polite. What he means is, he barely recognized you. The country life really has a way of making people look... haggard."
Kirsty laughed again, her voice loud and annoying like braying donkey. "I wanted to make sure you were the first to know, dear. Dominic and I are officially engaged. The wedding is in two months. We would love for you to come."
She waited for the tears. She waited for Alodie to cower, to beg, to feel the crushing weight of her own worthlessness. Kirsty wanted the entire city to watch the "charity case" fall apart at the feet of the man who had discarded her.
Alodie looked from Kirsty's triumphant smirking face to Dominic's arrogant gaze. She waited for the pain she knew she should feel. She waited for the heartbreak, the humiliation.
But there was nothing.
The Alodie who had loved Dominic Barese had died in a damp prison cell. The woman standing here now only felt contempt.
Alodie let out a soft, melodic laugh. It was smooth as silk and cold as ice. The sound was so unexpected that the crowd leaned in, enchanted.
"Engaged?" Alodie asked, her voice clear and steady. Her gaze fixed on Dominic, sweeping over him with distinct dismissal. "I had no idea."
She looked back at Kirsty, her expression one of amused pity.
"Well, congratulations, Kirsty. It's always good to see people... taking out the trash. I was done with him four years ago. I'm glad to see you've finally decided to claim what I discarded."
Dominic's jaw dropped. Kirsty's gasp was audible. The crowd was absolutely silent.
Then She walked past them without giving them time to recover.
She didn't look back. She didn't need to. She could feel their stunned silence like a physical presence behind her. She had turned their weapon of shame into her shield of indifference.
When she got to a secluded corner, she looked around.
She had only come because she needed to find the lawyer who had been responsible for handling her parents estate, he had a lot to answer for.
She took a champagne flute off a passing waiter and sipped while she looked around. And then her eyes found him.
An older man, with scattered silver hair, a blotched face and a belly trying to burst out of his shirt, talking to Mr Rhodes.
A flicker of panic shot through her. Seeing him brought back the ghosts of the prison cell. This was the man she was supposed to be "sold" to.
As she turned away, her vision suddenly swam. A dizzy spell hit her so hard she had to grab a nearby table.
I've only had one sip of champagne. How can I feel drunk?
Unless...
Cold realization spread through her.
The drink was drugged.
She chanced a glance towards the Rhodes and saw them whisper to Mr Cunningham who turned to her with a leering smile.
No way! They must have spiked her drink.
She turned around and in her haste, stumbled into some people. But her panic propelled her away.
She had not come back to life just to go through the same ordeal.
Alodie pushed through the crowd, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had to get out. Find a bathroom, anywhere. Get this stuff out of her system.
The world started to tilt at a dangerous angle. The golden lights of the chandeliers blurred into hazy streaks. The voices swelled into a dull roar, then faded into a chaotic muffle.
Her heel caught on the hem of her gown. She stumbled, her champagne glass slipping from her grasp and shattering on the marble floor. The sound was a far away crack.
She burst through a set of French doors, the cool night air hitting her face. She looked back and saw Cunningham discreetly following her, putting enough distance between them so that it would not look like she was his prey.
Fear of what could happen seized her breath.
She saw a garden path into the shadows of manicured hedges. Without thinking, she plunged into the darkness.
The cool night air was a welcome shock to her skin, but it did little to clear her head. The drug was fast, potent.
She tripped on a loose stone and went down hard, her hands sinking into damp, fragrant soil. The world was spinning, like it would swallow her.
She pushed herself up, her limbs heavy, clumsy. She knew she had to keep moving.
She saw a building up ahead
It seemed to shimmer in and out of focus.
But suddenly, she was there.
She fumbled with the heavy brass handle, her hands slick with sweat. Just as she heard the crunch of Cunningham's footsteps on the gravel right behind her, the door opened at last
She tumbled inside, slammed the door, and slumped against it as the lock clicked.
The room was silent, smelling of old books and sandalwood. In the dim light, she saw a silhouette by the window.