The sound of music from the main floor of the nightclub echoed faintly into the VIP room. The dim lights reflected a soft glow on the glass in Lyra Valtieri's hand, which had already lost several sips of whisky as she tried to suppress the anger boiling in her chest.
Today was supposed to be a happy day. She had just returned from a short vacation with her friends to celebrate her bridal shower. Tomorrow, she would marry the man who had been by her side for years. After more than five years together, Lyra had finally accepted Nicholas's proposal.
But tonight, all those memories felt bitter. A few hours earlier, Lyra had intended to give her fiancé a small surprise, a luxury watch she had bought during her trip, a simple gift to mark their last day as an unmarried couple.
However, when she arrived at Nicholas's apartment, the door was not fully closed. A high heel was caught in the gap.
Lyra frowned slightly. "Whose shoe is this?" she murmured softly.
Slowly, she pushed the door open. Her steps halted for a moment as her eyes caught a sight that made her chest tighten. Nicholas's shoes were scattered carelessly on the floor. His shirt was also tossed aside near the sofa, as if it had been removed in a hurry.
Lyra's heartbeat began to grow uneasy. She stepped further into the apartment until she finally stopped in front of a bedroom door that was slightly ajar.
From inside the room, the voices of Nicholas and a woman could be heard.
The woman's voice was soft, spoiled, even slightly seductive. Lyra held her breath and unconsciously moved closer to the door. But her steps immediately froze when she heard the next sentence.
"You're marrying her tomorrow," the woman said in a coquettish tone. "But on the first night, you should be with me, not with that stupid woman."
Lyra felt as if her blood had stopped flowing. Then Nicholas's soft laughter was heard.
"Relax, darling," he said casually. "I never wanted to marry her either."
A brief silence followed.
"If she weren't the only heir of the Valtieri family, I wouldn't have even proposed to her."
Those words felt like a knife being slowly driven into Lyra's chest.
Nicholas continued in a relaxed tone, as if the conversation meant nothing at all. "Besides, this was all your idea, wasn't it?" he said with a quiet chuckle. "If you hadn't pretended to introduce me as your distant cousin, I would have never gotten this close to her."
Lyra tightened her grip on the watch box in her hand.
"So, don't worry," Nicholas continued gently. "I only love you."
Lyra clenched her hands tightly. Her chest felt tight, as if something was pressing hard from within. Tears slowly streamed from the corners of her eyes, yet she did not even dare to wipe them away.
From behind the bedroom door, the woman's voice was heard again. "After you get married," she said in a casual tone, as if talking about something trivial, "remember to always prepare a healthy breakfast for her. If she keeps trusting you, it will be easier for us to transfer all her assets into our hands."
Lyra held her breath, but the next sentence made her body turn cold. "But…," Nicholas's voice sounded hesitant for a moment, "won't the doctor get suspicious if we poison her?"
It was as if the world collapsed right above her head. Lyra shut her eyes tightly. The hand gripping the watch box began to tremble.
All this time, she had been trying to fight her own fears about marriage. It took more than five years for Lyra to truly convince herself that Nicholas was the right person to spend the rest of her life with.
Five years to open her heart. Five years to trust. Yet now, all of it felt like a cruel joke. Perhaps she should have never tried to get married in the first place.
"Don't worry," the woman replied lightly, even sounding slightly amused. "The poison won't be detected."
Lyra finally recognized that voice, the voice she had trusted all this time.
"If her immune system is weak, the poison will react faster," the woman continued calmly. "Her body will grow weaker over time, but the doctor will never know that it's because of the poison."
The woman's name spun in Lyra's mind like a nightmare that refused to stop. That person was Abigail, her best friend.
The friend she had trusted more than anyone else.
Lyra had never imagined that the person who had always been by her side would be the one most willing to stab her in the back.
Abigail had not attended the bridal shower because she said she couldn't take time off work. Her leave for the year had already been used up.
Lyra was not suspicious at all. She knew Abigail was not the type of person who would take advantage of their closeness for personal gain. That was why Lyra did not mind when Abigail said she couldn't come.
But who would have thought that reason was nothing but a lie? The reality was far more cruel than she had ever imagined.
The woman she had always considered her best friend was lying in the same bed with her fiancé.
Not only betraying her, they were even planning something far more horrifying to kill her.
A possibility that had never, not even once, crossed Lyra's mind. Until tonight, when she heard it herself, directly, without a trace of doubt.
Lyra took another gulp of her drink. Her eyes had turned red, and so had her cheeks, which were starting to feel warm from the alcohol. Her head felt slightly heavy, but the pain in her chest was far more unbearable than anything else.
She did not return to that apartment. She did not want to scream. She did not want to cry in front of them. She did not want to waste her energy on two traitors.
So she left, and now she was here in a VIP room of an elite nightclub, accompanied by dim lights and muffled music.
She just wanted to forget everything, even if only for tonight. Without much thought, Lyra even ordered several men provided by the club, something she had never imagined she would do.
Lyra got up from the sofa and walked toward the restroom. Her steps were slightly unsteady, her vision occasionally blurred. After finishing, she stepped out with a heavy breath.
But her steps became even more unstable. She bumped into several people in the hallway, until finally, without realizing it, she pushed a door open and walked into another VIP room.
Inside, someone was already there, a man sitting calmly, as if the world around him was never important enough to disturb him.
Lyra blinked slowly, trying to focus, then she smiled.
Her steps were still unsteady as she approached, until she finally dropped herself onto the seat beside the man. Without hesitation, she raised her hand and held his chin, forcing him to look at her.
"Your face is far more handsome than that bastard's," Lyra murmured softly, her lips curving into a faint smile.
Her eyes were slightly hazy, yet they clearly held pain. "A man like him…" she continued in a low voice, almost as if speaking to herself, "doesn't deserve to marry me."
The man did not respond immediately. His gaze was cold and sharp, observing the woman beside him who was clearly under the influence of alcohol.
Lyra then shifted her gaze to the table. Her brows furrowed slightly, her glass was gone. She turned her head and found it in the man's hand.
Without thinking, Lyra reached for the glass and was about to drink it. But before her lips could touch the rim, a hand stopped her.
The movement was calm, yet firm. "Since when have you been drinking this?" the man's voice was low and deep, with a tone that was hard to read.
Lyra fell silent. For a moment, the world felt quiet.