In His Sheet

Episode 006

The lounge was a masterpiece of elegance, soft gold light, low jazz humming through well-hidden speakers, the kind of place where even laughter sounded expensive.

I balanced the silver tray in one hand, moving through the crowd with the same poise I’d seen in movies.

My heels pinched, but I kept my head high, smiling when necessary, silent when not.

In my other hand was the printed guest list Clara had given me earlier. Between each refill, I sneaked glances at the names.

Mr. and Mrs. R. Donovan — shipping conglomerate.

Leonard Voss — real estate.

Catherine Vale — media and PR.

Ambrose Hale — investment banking.

The list read like a billionaire’s roll call. Each name carried enough weight that could easily sink a dead body... each face was one I’d seen in business articles or on the society page.

I couldn’t help the small curl of satisfaction in my chest. This was exactly where I needed to be.

I offered another guest a glass of champagne, murmuring a polite “enjoy your evening” before gliding on.

Everywhere I looked, people were laughing, shaking hands, whispering things that mattered. I

studied how they moved, how they touched arms lightly when they talked, how their smiles were never too big, never too eager.

This is what power looks like, I thought. Effortless.

But I couldn’t just stand here staring. If tonight was going to mean anything, I needed an entry point. A sort of connection. Someone who could bring me into this world naturally.

And for that, I needed a friend.

Not just anyone. Someone high enough to matter but warm enough to let me in.

I scanned the room, my eyes landing briefly on a group of women gathered near the far end of the lounge. They were all stunning. Sleek dresses, smooth laughter, flawless makeup, but one of them stood out.

She wasn’t laughing like the others. Just smiling politely, nodding at something her 'friend' said, her eyes darting toward the bar every few seconds like she wished she were somewhere else.

There you are.

I straightened my tray, waiting for the right moment. When one of the women excused herself, the quiet one shifted her clutch awkwardly, and that was my cue.

I took a step forward, pretending not to notice the edge of the carpet until the tray tilted slightly and one of the champagne glasses nearly slipped.

“Oh my God!” she gasped, reaching out quickly to steady it.

“Thank you,” I said breathlessly, offering a nervous smile. “I’m so sorry. First time jitters.”

Her lips curved kindly. “It’s alright. Happens to everyone.”

Her voice was smooth, friendly, the kind I could work with.

I smiled again, bowing my head slightly before stepping back into line, heart drumming fast.

Step one: Contact made.

Now all I needed was a second chance to make her remember me.

“I’m Elizabeth,” I said before I could stop myself, forcing a small, nervous smile.

“Elizabeth Monroe. Clara’s… uh...niece. I just got into town a few weeks ago, and she didn’t want me staying home alone, so I offered to help her out tonight.”

The lie rolled off my tongue like it had been waiting there, desperate for air.

Silence.

For a second, I thought I’d blown it. But then the woman’s face lit up in delight.

“You’re Clara’s family? Oh my God, that’s so sweet of you to help her out!” she said warmly. “I’m Elsie. We’re probably age mates, so please, don’t be so formal.”

She extended her hand, and I shook it quickly, hoping she wouldn’t notice how clammy mine was.

“Nice to meet you, Elsie,” I managed, my voice steady but my heart slamming against my ribs.

Step two: New identity.

The moment she turned her head to glance toward the stage, I let out a silent breath and mentally smacked myself.

I just lied.

Not a small, casual, harmless lie—no. A full-blown, name-dropping, easily-verifiable kind of lie.

The kind that could get me fired, blacklisted, and maybe even thrown out before dessert.

And the worst part? I didn’t even check my facts. For all I knew, Clara didn’t have a niece.

She didn’t even look like the kind of woman who had family close enough to visit. She looked like the kind who had assistants, not nieces.

Brilliant, Mara. Absolutely brilliant.

And Elizabeth? Out of every name in the universe, I picked the one that sounds like someone who wears pearls to bed. Who names their child Elizabeth anymore?

Elsie smiled at me again, completely unaware of the panic blooming in my chest.

“Come, Liz,” she said cheerfully. “You have to meet some of my friends. They’ll love that you’re helping with this event. Clara’s events are always the talk of the city.”

“Uh—sure,” I said, adjusting my tray before realizing she was already linking her arm through mine and steering me toward a circle of well-dressed people laughing near the fountain.

I was in too deep to back out now.

So I smiled, nodded, and walked right into the lion’s den.

I may have just gotten myself a friend. I mean, she called me Liz, that should mean something.

Step three: second point of entry/connection to the rich world made!

This is going way better than I thought it would.