BAIT🥹

THE COLLISION

The ballroom shimmered with soft lights and expensive smiles. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen stars above the crowd, scattering gold across every polished surface. People in designer gowns drifted across the hall as if the floor itself belonged to them. Laughter floated like perfume. Champagne flutes sparkled. Everything smelled of wealth—old wealth, untouchable wealth.

Sophia and Adam slipped inside quietly, trying not to draw attention. They stayed close to the wall, partially hidden by a tall vase overflowing with roses that probably cost more than a month’s salary.

“Whoa…” Adam whispered under his breath, eyes widening. “This place screams money.”

Sophia swallowed hard. His words only confirmed what she already felt. Every inch of the room reminded her she didn’t belong. She tugged gently at her dress, suddenly aware of how simple it looked next to the glittering gowns around her. Her heart thudded against her ribs.

But she lifted her chin anyway.

She didn’t come here to fit in.

She came here to speak her truth.

They began moving toward a quiet corner. But before they could blend into the shadows—

Hash saw her.

He froze mid-conversation, his expression flickering between shock and something unreadable. Standing beside him, Amber’s eyes widened. Then narrowed sharply. Her lips curled as she took in Sophia’s presence, as if the air itself offended her.

Within seconds, Amber stormed across the hall, heels hammering the marble floor like tiny explosions.

“What is this doing here?” she hissed, pointing at Sophia as if she were a stain. “How did you even get inside? Did someone smuggle you in?”

Sophia met her gaze without flinching.

“I didn’t come here to see you, Amber. Move.”

The calmness in her voice stunned Amber for a moment.

Sophia brushed past her, Adam following close behind, ready to intervene if needed.

At the bar, Adam’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen, frowned, and sighed.

“Soph, I have to handle something outside. I’ll be right back,” he said, squeezing her shoulder gently before rushing toward the exit.

Sophia let out a shaky breath. Standing alone, she tried to steady her heartbeat as the noise of the ballroom crashed over her. She could feel eyes trailing across her dress, her posture, her very presence. But she refused to shrink.

As she tried to slow her breathing, a tall, elegant woman appeared beside her—graceful in a way that made the room shift. Her jewelry glimmered, subtle yet clearly expensive.

“I know that look,” the woman said with a soft, almost amused smile.

Sophia blinked. “What look?”

“The ‘she’s too rich to be real’ look.” The woman’s laughter was warm, not mocking.

Sophia gave a shy smile, but before she could respond—

Amber returned.

Her expression was thunderous now, charged with humiliation that Sophia had dared ignore her. “What are you doing here?” she snapped. “I told you to leave.”

Sophia exhaled slowly, already exhausted by her presence.

Amber didn’t wait for a reply. She snatched a glass of iced drink from a passing waiter—cold enough that condensation dripped down her fingers—and before Sophia could react—

Amber poured it onto her.

The shock was instant.

The cold hit her skin like needles.

Her breath caught. Her dress clung heavily to her body.

Amber smirked. “Perfect. Matches your level.”

A few people gasped. Others looked away, pretending not to notice. Some watched with morbid curiosity. Sophia bit down hard on her trembling lip, refusing to give Amber the satisfaction of seeing her break.

She turned sharply and walked away, hands shaking, trying to find a quiet corner where she could breathe—just breathe.

She slipped into the back corridor, away from the music and champagne and cruel eyes. The hallway was dim and strangely silent, the sound of her wet shoes tapping against the polished floor echoing like little cries.

She turned a corner—

and collided into a man.

Hard.

She hit the floor before she even understood what happened, pain jolting through her shoulder.

“Miss—are you okay?” the man asked, kneeling beside her immediately.

His voice was deep, steady, warm. A stranger. A completely unfamiliar face. His eyes were gentle, brows furrowed with genuine concern.

Sophia panicked.

She slapped his hand away and scrambled to her feet, nearly slipping. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered, breath trembling, cheeks burninng.

The man froze, lifting both hands slightly in surrender. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said softly. “You’re trembling. Please let me help.”

“I said don’t touch me,” she muttered, backing away.

Her throat burned. Her chest tightened. Everything felt too close, too bright, too cruel.

She turned and rushed down the hall, leaving him standing there—confused, worried, and staring after her.

What she didn’t see was the figure further down the hallway.

Hash.

He had followed her the moment Amber dumped the drink. Something inside him—instinct, guilt, something painful—had dragged him after her like an invisible force.

He saw her collide with the man. Saw her flinch. Saw the way she trembled and ran.

And something hot and sharp sliced through him.

His jaw tightened.

His fists clenched.

His chest burned with an emotion he wasn’t ready to name.

He didn’t understand it. He didn’t want to understand it.

All he knew was that watching her fall—watching her run away soaked, humiliated, shaking—felt wrong. Unbearably wrong.

He took a step forward.

Then another.

His heartbeat pounded harder with each one.

He didn’t know what he was going to say when he found her.

But he knew one thing:

He couldn’t ignore her anymore.

Not tonight.

Not after this.

Sophia’s fingers clenched the damp fabric of her dress. She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to stand tall. Somewhere deep inside, a spark ignited—a quiet determination. She wouldn’t let Amber or anyone else break her. Not tonight.