THE SILENT BETRAYAL
683 Words
Back to the private room, Mira has been thinking about what Rose might be going true.
"No way," Mira whispered, her brow furrowing.
"Is something wrong, dear?" Emily asked softly.
No, noth.. nothing, everything is fine. She said. While the grip on her fork tightened. "She thought to herself." he dared break my bestie heart. How dare him go back to that… "Becky. They’re laughing like they’re on a date."
Alexander, who had seemed entirely disinterested in the conversation, froze. The air around him suddenly turned ice-cold. He didn't look at Mira, but his hand gripped the stem of his wine glass so hard it looked like it might shatter.
" Are you sure."Alexander asked, his voice was low and dangerous.
"I'm positive," Henry replied, pulling out his phone.
" I got a text . the client wants to see you."
Alexander finally looked up. His eyes didn't show anger—they showed a terrifying, calculated predatory instinct. He had been waiting for this client for a while now. He just hadn't expected it to happen soon. The atmosphere in the private room shattered the moment Alexander stood up. He didn't offer an excuse, a nod, or even a glance at his father or the Johnsons. He simply moved, his stride purposeful and predatory.
Old Smith’s face turned a dangerous shade of purple.
"Alexander! Get back here!
Do you have any idea how much is riding on this dinner?" He said.
Alexander didn’t even break his pace. He reached the door and pushed it open, his shadow stretching long across the floor as he exited, leaving the room in a stunned, suffocating silence.
Old Smith’s chair scraped violently against the floor as he started to rise, his hand trembling with rage.
O"That brat! He thinks he can just walk out on.. " he snapped.
"Sir! "Henry stepped forward, his voice perfectly calibrated to command attention. He was already bowing slightly, his demeanor composed and professional.
"My deepest apologies, Mr. Smith. A situation has arisen regarding a high-priority client. It requires Mr. Alexander’s immediate and personal intervention."
"A client?"
Old Smith snarled, pointing a shaking finger at the door.
"He has a dinner with the Johnsons! A merger of families! What client could possibly be more important than his own blood?"he said.
Henry didn't blink. He replied calmly. "This particular client is the foundation of his entire portfolio, sir. Mr. Alexander considers the matter... urgent.
"He gave a sharp, formal nod to the room, turned on his heel, and followed his boss out, leaving the Smith family to face the awkward, icy fallout of Alexander’s departure.
The night was a blur of neon lights and cheap liquor. At the bar, the atmosphere was raucous, the music vibrating through the floorboards. Becky stayed glued to Kelvin’s side, her laughter shrill and constant, punctuated by the way she kept forcing shots into his hand.
"One more for the road, Kelvin!" she urged, her voice laced with a synthetic sweetness.Kelvin, already hazy and guilt-ridden, allowed it. He was drowning his own conscience in alcohol, trying to silence the nagging voice in his head that kept whispering about his seven-year anniversary—and the woman sitting alone in their apartment, waiting for him.
"You're amazing, Becky,"Kelvin slurred, his eyes heavy.
"I don't know why I ever let you leave.
Becky smiled, a sharp, triumphant glint in her eyes.
"You didn't let me go, Kelvin. You just got distracted. But you're back now, aren't you?
By the time they left the bar, Kelvin could barely stand. Matthew and Martins, caught up in their own revelry, didn't stop them as Becky steered him toward a nearby luxury hotel. They thought it was just a night of "reminiscing."
Inside the hotel room, the air was cool and sterile, a stark contrast to the heat of the night. Becky didn't waste time. She helped him onto the bed, her movements calculated and cold. As Kelvin succumbed to the exhaustion and the drink, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep—a sleep of betrayal -
- Writer
