Chapter 6 - A Drink Served Cold
While Vivian scrubbed the marble floor, Claire Montgomery was orchestrating a desperate plan of her own in the VIP lounge.
Claire had always considered herself the brains of their social circle. Vivian was the brute force, but Claire was the strategist. She knew how to manipulate men, how to bat her eyelashes, and how to negotiate her way out of any corner. The debt contract binding her to the country club was ironclad, but there was a loophole: if someone bought out her debt, she would be free.
She just needed a white knight. And she knew exactly who to target.
Sitting in a plush velvet booth in the VIP lounge was Harrison Cole, a thirty-year-old tech prodigy who had recently sold his AI startup for two billion dollars. More importantly, Harrison had harbored a massive, pathetic crush on Claire in college. She had rejected him ruthlessly back then, calling him a "nerd with no pedigree," but times had changed. Now, he was a king, and she was the help.
Adjusting the collar of her uniform to show a fraction more skin, Claire grabbed a fresh tray of expensive Scotch and glided toward his booth.
"Mr. Cole?" Claire said, her voice dropping to a soft, husky purr. "Your Macallan 25."
Harrison, who was deep in conversation with two hedge fund managers, paused. He looked up, his brow furrowing as he recognized the striking, albeit exhausted, features of the woman serving him. "Claire? Claire Montgomery? Good lord, the rumors were true."
"Harrison," Claire whispered, forcing a tear to well up in her eye. It wasn't hard; the misery was genuine. "It's so good to see a friendly face."
The two hedge fund managers chuckled, sensing the awkwardness, and excused themselves to the bar. Harrison leaned back, crossing his arms. He didn't look sympathetic; he looked fascinated. "I heard the Sterling Group seized your family's shipping fleet. But I didn't know you were reduced to... this."
"It's a misunderstanding," Claire lied smoothly, setting the tray down and stepping closer to him. "A temporary setback. But Harrison, it’s horrible here. They treat us like animals. I just need a bridge loan. Five million dollars to buy out my contract. For you, that's pocket change. If you do this for me... I can make it worth your while. Very worth your while."
She placed a trembling hand on his knee, looking up at him through her lashes.
Harrison stared at her hand, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes. For a split second, Claire thought she had won. Her heart soared. She was going to escape this nightmare.
"A very tempting offer, Miss Montgomery," a chillingly smooth voice interrupted.
Claire snatched her hand away and spun around.
Maya Sterling emerged from the shadows of the lounge, her emerald gown trailing behind her like liquid glass. Two massive Wraith security guards flanked her.
Harrison instantly stood up, buttoning his suit jacket and bowing his head slightly. "Miss Sterling. An honor."
"Mr. Cole," Maya smiled gracefully. "I hope the Macallan is to your liking." She turned her gaze to Claire, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "Claire. Are you soliciting our guests? That is a direct violation of section four of your employment contract."
"I... I was just catching up with an old friend," Claire stammered, backing away, her confidence instantly evaporating.
"Is that so?" Maya tilted her head, turning back to Harrison. "Mr. Cole, did you know that five years ago, Miss Montgomery convinced the admissions board of the St. Jude Foundation to reject your little sister's scholarship application? She deemed your family 'new money trash' and gave the spot to her cousin's poodle groomer."
Harrison’s face went completely rigid. He looked at Claire, the earlier fascination replaced by absolute, freezing disgust. "Is that true?" he demanded.
Claire swallowed hard, cornered. "Harrison, I... it was a long time ago—"
"Get away from me," Harrison spat, his voice laced with venom. He picked up his glass of scotch and, without missing a beat, tossed the amber liquid directly into Claire’s face.
Claire gasped, stumbling backward as the alcohol burned her eyes and dripped down her uniform.
May you like
Maya didn't even blink. "I believe the guest asked for some space, Claire. Go to the kitchen. Tell Mrs. Higgins you are on dish duty for the remainder of the month. The industrial dishwasher is broken, so you will be doing them by hand. All five hundred plates."
Weeping silently, smelling of scotch and defeat, Claire ran from the lounge. Maya watched her go, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips before turning back to Harrison. "Now, Mr. Cole. Let's discuss that AI patent you're developing..."
