Bane of the Elite

Chapter 6

The soft morning light filtering through my small bedroom window offered no real warmth, only a quiet, oppressive reminder of the heavy burdens crushing down on my chest. I sat at the edge of my narrow, squeaky bed, staring blankly at a worn-out sketchbook lying open on the wooden floorboards.

Years ago, back when my world was painted in brighter and vastly more hopeful colors, my absolute dream in life was to become a fashion designer. I loved everything about it—sketching flowing silhouettes, designing intricate gowns, and playing with different textures, fabrics, and embroideries. I used to spend hours hunched over my desk, completely lost in my own little world of fashion illustrations, dreaming of the day I might see my original creations walk down a grand runway, catching the flash of cameras and the breathless admiration of a crowd.

But looking at those faded sketches now, that dream felt like a distant, cruel illusion, completely obliterated by the harsh, unrelenting weight of reality.

How on earth could I ever think of pursuing a career in design when my family was drowning in an unfathomable sea of debt? One hundred million pesos. The sheer magnitude of that number felt like a death sentence hanging over my youth. Even if I were to break my back working day and night until my bones gave out, I could never earn that kind of astronomical sum in a lifetime. It stood like a towering, impassable steel wall right in front of my future, blocking out any chance of a normal, unburdened life.

Yet, despite the overwhelming despair, a stubborn sense of familial duty remained deeply rooted inside me. I still wanted to help my parents. As much as I wanted to scream, to unleash my pent-up anger, and to blame them for their reckless, destructive gambling addiction—to curse them for robbing me of my education, my peace of mind, and my future—I simply couldn't bring myself to do it. Every time I looked at their tired, hollow, and defeated faces, a deep, aching wave of pity washed over me. They were broken people who had lost everything to their own vices, but they were still my flesh and blood. I could not abandon them to rot in the mess they had created.

I let out a long, shuddering sigh, pulling my knees up to my chest. The silence of the small room felt suffocating, wrapping around me like a cold blanket as I sat there in the quiet dawn, mourning the girl I used to be before forcing myself to stand up and face another grueling day.

It was Saturday. Five long, exhausting days had passed since I started juggling my two grueling jobs—sweeping floors and cleaning offices as a lowly janitress by day at the imposing Sanvitores Company, and serving drinks by night as a waitress at the bustling lounge Velour. Throughout every single shift across both worlds, one single constant remained unchanged: Dark’s relentless, blistering coldness toward me.

I still couldn't fathom why he despised my presence so much or why he glared at me with such venom every time our paths crossed within the corporate halls of Sanvitores Company or the dimly lit corners of the bar. Perhaps it was still because of that disastrous first encounter in his office, or perhaps it was just his default state—a man carved out of perpetual ice and irritation. What made it even more exhausting was that across all five nights at the bar, without fail, Dark and his tight-knit circle of wealthy friends occupied their usual spots in the VIP lounge of Velour, acting as silent, intimidating fixtures of my nightly routine.

Mid-morning found me sitting inside a small, humming neighborhood laundry shop, quietly waiting for my work uniforms to finish spinning in the dryer. The rhythmic tumbling of the machines was the only sound keeping me company when my phone suddenly buzzed violently against the wooden table.

An incoming text message from Megan.

“Autumn! Are you free today? It’s Saturday, for crying out loud! Let’s hit the mall. My treat, I promise! Don’t you dare say no, it’s way too boring to go alone.”

A soft, genuine smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Megan was genuinely one of the kindest, most vibrant people I had ever met. Despite her striking beauty—which easily rivaled that of high-end fashion models or international beauty queens—she was completely down-to-earth. Sometimes, looking at her flawless face and effortless grace, I couldn't wrap my head around why someone like her had ever ended up working as a fellow janitress right beside me back at Sanvitores Corporation. She belonged on billboards and glossy magazines, not scrubbing corporate floors.

I quickly tapped out a response on my screen. “Hi Megan, I'm really flattered, but I’m just finishing up my laundry and was planning to rest at home all day. Maybe next time?”

Barely ten seconds passed before her reply flashed back, accompanied by a cute, pleading puppy sticker. “No! You are such a killjoy, Autumn! Pleaaase? Come on, it’s our rare day off together. I’m paying for everything, so you have zero excuses. Are you coming with me, or do I need to drag you out of your house myself?”

I let out an amused huff, completely defenseless against her infectious persistence. “Fine, you win. Let me just rush home, change my clothes, and I’ll meet you at the mall entrance.”

“Yay! See you, Autumn! Don’t keep me waiting too long!”

True to my word, after retrieving my freshly dried clothes from the shop, I hurried home, took a quick, refreshing shower, and dressed up for our casual day out. Since it was my official rest day and the weather outside was pleasantly warm, I opted for a stylish yet comfortable outfit—a minimalist black halter top paired with light-wash high-waist denim jeans and my favorite clean white sneakers. I swept a light touch of coral lip tint across my lips to chase away the pale weariness etched into my face, grabbed my small sling bag, and took the train straight to the bustling city mall.

It didn't take long before I spotted Megan standing near the grand main entrance. She looked breathtakingly radiant, wearing a chic light-blue ribbed tank top and tailored denim shorts that hugged her slim, fair frame perfectly. We were roughly the same height, but Megan possessed an ethereal, porcelain complexion that seemed to glow effortlessly under the mall lights.

"Autumn!" she called out brightly, waving her hand as she jogged over with a brilliant grin.

"Hi, Megan! Sorry, did I keep you waiting long?" I asked, flashing a warm smile as we met halfway.

"Not at all, you arrived right on time!" Megan beamed, stepping back to inspect my outfit with approval. "Oh my god, look at you! That halter top looks amazing on you. It's so chic and effortless!"

"Look who's talking," I laughed, shaking my head. "You look like you're about to walk straight onto a magazine cover. I honestly don't know how you managed to look like a supermodel while wearing a simple tank top."

We exchanged a few more compliments, laughing easily as we finally stepped through the automatic glass doors into the cool, sprawling interior of the air-conditioned shopping center.

For the next hour, we wandered aimlessly from shop to shop, browsing through racks of clothes and chatting about random things. But as we leisurely walked down the wide corridor of the ground floor, a familiar, smoothly arrogant voice suddenly rang out from behind us.

"Well, well. What are two lovely angels doing wandering around my territory on a Saturday?"

Megan and I both froze in our tracks, turning around simultaneously. Standing a few feet away with a relaxed, charming grin was the curly-haired man from Dark's inner circle—the very same guy whose name I had only recently learned. Kaden.

Megan’s eyes widened slightly in polite recognition. She quickly straightened her posture and offered a respectful nod. "Sir Kaden," she greeted smoothly.

Hearing his name spoken out loud brought back a strange rush of realization. In all the days I had worked at Velour and swept the floors of Sanvitores Company, watching these intimidating men from afar, Kaden was the only one whose moniker had finally stuck in my mind.

"Hey there, Megan! And hey to you too, little waitress," Kaden greeted us both warmly, his gaze lingering cheerfully on Megan for a second longer before shifting back to me. "Talk about a massive coincidence. What brings you two ladies here today?"

"Just taking a little break from work, Sir Kaden," Megan replied, though I could notice a subtle shift in her relaxed demeanor, as if her guard had automatically gone up just a fraction.

Before Kaden could reply, a heavy, imposing shadow fell over us from the side. Another man stepped up beside Kaden, and my breath hitched instantly. I recognized him immediately as one of Dark’s closest friends—a man whose intimidating, brooding aura rivaled Dark's own. He possessed the same chilling coldness, the same sharp jawline, and eyes that looked entirely uninterested in the world around him.

The moment Megan caught sight of the newcomer, the bright, polite smile vanished entirely from her face. Her body went completely rigid.

Across from her, the tall, dark-haired man stopped dead in his tracks. For a heart-stopping second, their eyes locked in an intense, silent collision—a heavy, unspoken clash of heavy emotions and hidden friction that hung suffocatingly thick in the air between them. I blinked, utterly bewildered by the sudden shift in atmosphere, but before I could piece the fragments together, Kaden smoothly stepped in to bridge the gap.

"Ah, where are my manners? Meet my cousin," Kaden announced, casually clapping a hand onto the broad shoulder of the brooding man beside him. "This is Stanley. But everyone just calls him Stan, so don't bother being too formal with him."

I quickly offered a polite, nervous smile, dipping my head slightly. "Hi, Stan. I'm Autumn, and this is Megan."

Stan's dark, piercing gaze slowly shifted from Megan's stiff form down to me. He gave a single, curt nod, his expression remaining as impassive as carved stone. "Autumn," he acknowledged in a low, deep rumble before his eyes flicked back toward Megan with a lingering, guarded sharpness.

The silence that followed was suffocatingly awkward. I stood there, completely out of my depth, desperately wishing I could disappear into the floorboards. Thankfully, Kaden’s natural gift for endless chatter rushed in to rescue the situation before it could shatter completely.

"Man, you wouldn't believe it," Kaden laughed loudly, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. "Did you know half the guys you see hanging around us are literally my cousins? Me, Stan, Dark—we're all blood relatives. Even the other guys you've seen around the club or at the corporate headquarters are part of the family tree."

I blinked in genuine astonishment, my mind racing to process the information. Ah, no wonder... I thought to myself. That completely explained why every single one of them carried that exact same dangerous, aristocratic aura of wealth, power, and intimidating good looks. They were cut from the exact same elite cloth. But even among all those striking, high-class men, Dark possessed a terrifyingly distinct kind of gravity—a dark, magnetic intensity that drew your eyes toward him no matter how hard you tried to look away.

At the sudden mental image of Dark's sharp obsidian eyes, a sudden wave of heat flushed violently across my cheeks. Wait. Why on earth am I thinking about him right now? I scolded myself internally, quickly pressing the palms of my hands against my warm face to cool down before anyone noticed my sudden embarrassment.

"Anyway, since we all bumped into each other, why don't we hang out together?" Kaden suggested brightly, completely ignoring the invisible ice storm still raging between Stan and Megan. "My treat! Come on, let's grab some lunch before you girls say no."

"No nedd, Sir Kaden." Megan tried to politely decline, but knowing Kaden’s relentless stubbornness, protest was entirely futile.

Within minutes, the four of us found ourselves wandering through the high-end sectors of the mall together. It was a bizarre, surreal quartet. Kaden's non-stop banter and teasing remarks filled every empty space, keeping the conversation alive while poking fun at store displays and fashion trends. Stan walked quietly beside him, hands tucked deep into his pockets, occasionally casting sharp, unreadable glances toward Megan, who kept her eyes firmly fixed straight ahead, doing her absolute best to pretend he didn't exist.

Despite the underlying tension, Kaden's bubbly personality managed to keep things moving. By the time late afternoon rolled around, after treating us to an expensive lunch and walking us through half the mall, Kaden and Stan insisted on driving us safely back to our respective neighborhoods.

Stepping out of the cool evening air back into my small, quiet home, a wave of familiar exhaustion washed over me. The house was completely dark and empty. My parents were nowhere to be found.

I wasn't even surprised anymore. Dad was likely out chasing another foolish gambling debt or drinking away whatever little money he managed to scrape together, while Mom was probably scouring the district for any odd job or desperate hustle she could find. Shaking my head with a heavy heart, I flicked on the living room light, set my bag down on the worn wooden table, and quietly spent the next hour sweeping the floors and tidying up the kitchen.

After a quick, lukewarm shower to wash off the mall's dust and lingering fatigue, I crawled into my narrow bed, pulling the thin blanket up to my chin. My eyelids grew heavy, and I welcomed the sweet, slow pull of sleep, letting the darkness wrap around me.

Until a sudden, sharp, discordant noise shattered the peace of the midnight hour.

Riiiiing... Riiiiing...

My eyes snapped wide open in the dark. My hand fumbled frantically across the mattress until my trembling fingers brushed against my phone vibrating aggressively on the wooden nightstand.

I squinted at the glowing screen. An unregistered number.

Confusion mixed heavily with a sudden spike of anxiety. Who on earth could possibly be calling me at this ungodly hour? It was well past ten in the evening—far too late for normal calls, unless something catastrophic had happened.

With a hesitant breath, I swiped the screen and pressed the phone to my ear.

"H-hello?" I murmured, my voice small and laced with sleep-induced haze.

Complete silence answered me from the other end. No background noise, no music, no immediate greeting. Just the distinct sound of slow, heavy, controlled breathing.

"Hello? Who is this?" I repeated, my nerves tightening as I gripped the phone a little tighter. "If no one is going to speak, I'm hanging up right now—"

"Try hanging up on me, Autumn, and see what happens."

The blood instantly drained from my face, leaving me frozen stiff beneath the sheets.

That voice. Low, dark, dangerously quiet, and vibrating with a terrifying, suppressed fury that felt entirely suffocating even through the digital speaker. I didn't need caller ID to know who it belonged to. Every single nerve ending in my body recognized it instantly.

Dark.

Before I could even gather enough breath to form a coherent sentence, before my paralyzed mind could process why he was calling my private number in the middle of the night, a sharp, cynical scoff hissed through the line, followed by words that made my heart violently slam against my ribs:

"Having a good time today, are we? A nice little double date, huh?”