Haunted by fate

work trouble

The decorated lounge glowed with soft golden light. Low conversations mixed with the gentle clink of crystal glasses. The air carried the rich scent of expensive perfume and chilled champagne. Elara moved through the crowd with quiet confidence, guiding her team as they presented the new product to the elite guests. On stage, the manager held most of their attention, delivering a detailed proposal in a smooth, practiced voice. The seated elites were all potential sponsors. When he finished, several of them raised their hands in immediate interest.

Her heart thumped hard with relief. She allowed herself a small, genuine smile.

The launch was a success.

People nodded in approval. A few directors raised their glasses toward the stage. Her teammates exchanged excited whispers, their faces bright with pride. For a short moment, the nightmares and the strange weight in her chest faded. Here, she was simply doing her work and doing it well.

Then a familiar voice reached her.

“Oh my, is that who I think it is? Still playing your little commoner role, my child?”

The frail voice remained sharp despite the woman’s age. She turned. An older woman from her grandmother’s social circle stood there, pearls resting against her neck, a polite smile that never touched her eyes. Formality seemed etched into her very blood.

“When will you stop treating this independent life like some childish game? You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

And what was it with everyone insisting she was only playing a role? Elara thought, keeping her expression calm. She offered a small, empty smile.

“Enjoy the rest of the evening,” she said evenly.

The older woman shook her head, her judgmental gaze unwavering, then turned to the valet who escorted her toward her waiting driver. The words still burned beneath her skin.

Before she could dwell on them, a sudden ripple of movement swept through the lounge. Staff members drifted closer, drawn by the rising commotion among the elites. Soft whispers passed from one group to another.

“He really did that in front of his fiancée…”

Elara reconsidered. It wouldn’t hurt to see what had happened.

Across the room, a young woman in a pale silk dress stood frozen. Her hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides, lips pressed together, fury radiating from every line of her body. Her fiancé stood only a few steps away with another woman on his arm, standing far too close, smiling as if nothing were wrong. Perhaps they had been meant to arrive together. Instead, he had stood her up and walked in with his mistress on full display.

The oldest scandal, and still the most effective.

The fiancée’s face flushed deep with humiliation. Without another word, she turned sharply and left the main lounge, her heels striking the polished floor in quick, angry steps toward the powder room. Elara’s gaze flicked back to the man. He smirked and leaned in to whisper something to the woman clinging to his arm. Several guests looked on with clear disapproval, yet no one stepped forward to intervene.

Her eyes returned to the powder room door. A moment later, she followed.

Inside, the air was cooler and quieter. The woman stood before the tall mirror, staring at her own teary-eyed reflection. Her makeup had begun to smudge. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself. When she heard footsteps, she looked up. Her eyes were wet and burning with anger.

Elara slowed her steps and softened her voice.

“Are you all right?” she asked carefully.

The woman gave a bitter laugh. “Do I look all right to you?” The sharp hiss in her tone almost made Elara wince and step back, already questioning why she had followed. But the fiancée continued, her voice shaking.

“He just walked in with her in front of everyone. My family is here. His family is here. I’ve been made a f*****g joke to every single person in that room.”

Elara stepped closer. At first her tone remained gentle.

“Trust me, crying won’t solve anything. That much I know.”

The woman scoffed with a dry, broken laugh. Then Elara’s voice lowered, edged with something colder and darker.

“And you don’t have to be the laughingstock.”

The statement caught the woman’s attention. Intrigue flickered behind the tears.

“What do you mean?” she asked, accepting the folded tissues she handed her and dabbing at her smudged makeup.

“If you do nothing about it,” Elara replied evenly, “then you become the laughingstock.”

“What could I possibly do against him? His family ranks above ours. The only way out is if the engagement is dissolved.” Her voice cracked as she sobbed the last words.

Elara’s gaze stayed steady and cold.

“Men like him care about image and reputation above everything else. If his mistress ended up… you know… carrying his child, and everyone found out, his family would turn on him. He would become the laughingstock of every room he enters.” She tilted her head slightly, a faint smile touching her lips. “Wouldn’t that feel better than crying here alone?”

The woman’s eyes widened in shock and bewilderment. She took a small step back as she in turn stepped forward, slipping something into her palm and closing her fingers firmly around it. Elara threw her a quick wink.

“It will be our little secret. And if you need help making the plan fall through, let me know. I can assist.”

She turned to leave, already seeing the doubt begin to creep into the other woman’s eyes.

“Just think about it,” she said softly.

“Wait.”

The fiancée’s voice came out hurriedly. When she glanced back, the woman’s shoulders had straightened. Her eyes now burned with fury and resentment instead of helpless tears.

“I’ll do it.”

It was hard not to smile.

Elara returned, the subtle smirk still evident on her face, drew curiosity from a colleague. “What are you so happy about, haha” she tapped against her shoulder.

“How could I not? We had a successful launch with little to no trouble.”

“ Didn’t you see the chaos earlier with some of the elites,” she laughed once more? “ I wonder if she’s going to do something about it,” the colleague muttered, still beaming with excitement.

“Who knows,” she shrugged, masking her inner thoughts.

Soon enough, they would all understand this was more than just a commoner’s roleplay to her.