The Note
1050 Words
Evelyn stepped back into the grand hall, her eyes scanning the crowd with urgency. It didn’t take her long to spot Theo. He was still standing exactly where she’d left him, but his face was noticeably darker, his jaw clenched in quiet fury. Clearly, he was still brooding over the public humiliation he had just endured—the accusation she had thrown at him moments ago still hung heavily in the air like smoke from a fire.
No, walking up to him directly was out of the question. Too many eyes had witnessed the drama, and worse—Kane was still here.
Her gaze darted toward a small service counter off to the side, where a neat stack of sticky notes and a silver pen rested on the polished marble surface. Bingo.
Without wasting a second, she tore a note from the pad and scribbled down two hurried lines. Then, crumpling it into a tight little ball, she slipped behind a column where no one was watching, lined up her shot—
Flick.
The paper missile flew across the air and landed with surgical precision on the back of Theo’s hand.
He flinched, his head whipping around sharply, those storm-gray eyes instantly scanning the room for the source. Evelyn peeked out just enough to be seen, raising a finger to her lips in a swift shh gesture before mouthing silently, “Read it.” Then she pointed at the paper ball lying at his feet.
Theo’s frown deepened. Suspicion clouded his features. He glanced toward Kane—still speaking with someone near the entrance—and then down at the innocent-looking wad of paper on the floor. Finally, slowly, he bent to retrieve it, unfolding it with the practiced subtlety of a man used to reading secrets in plain sight.
The writing was rushed but legible:
“Don’t drink anything anyone gives you. It’s drugged. It will knock you out.”
Theo’s pupils narrowed.
Drugged? Knocked out? What the hell was Betty up to this time?
He looked back toward the direction Evelyn had vanished to. She was still there, watching him with tight, anxious eyes, nodding emphatically to confirm her warning.
Could he trust her?
A moment ago she’d publicly accused him of s****l harassment, and now she was sending him secret warnings like they were allies? It was absurd. Every instinct in Theo told him this was just another twist in a deeper trap.
And then the waiter arrived.
A perfectly trained smile stretched across the young man’s face as he approached, holding a tray of sparkling red wine.
“Another drink, sir?” he asked smoothly, but Theo caught the flicker in his eyes—nervous, evasive. And he noticed something else too: the man’s gaze kept drifting—ever so subtly—toward a particular glass.
Too deliberate.
Theo’s senses sharpened like a blade. The note. The waiter. The wine.
He made a decision.
“Sure,” Theo replied with effortless calm, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reached for the exact glass the waiter had been eyeing.
He didn’t drink it.
Instead, he swirled it slowly, watching the amber liquid coat the inside of the glass. All the while, he observed the waiter from the corner of his eye. The man lingered—pretending to adjust silverware nearby, yet constantly glancing Theo’s way, clearly waiting for him to take a sip.
So it’s real.
Theo’s smile turned colder.
Someone had actually tried to drug him. In public.
Who? And why?
Was it just to humiliate him? Or was this part of whatever game Betty had started?
His mind raced. Then, as if fate had tripped him, Theo suddenly staggered slightly, his polished shoe slipping against the tiled floor.
“Whoops,” he muttered with a sheepish chuckle, knocking his arm into the edge of the dessert table.
A small, elegant cream cake toppled onto his pant leg, splattering white icing all over his black slacks and shoes.
“Damn, clumsy me.” He turned to the waiter, his tone casual but commanding. “Would you mind grabbing some napkins—or maybe find someone from housekeeping? I can’t walk around like this.”
The waiter froze for a beat, clearly caught off guard by the accident. His eyes darted between Theo’s stained trousers and the untouched wine in his hand. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Of course, sir. One moment.”
As the waiter turned, urgency in his stride, Theo acted.
Quick as a shadow, he swapped the glass in his hand with another one nearby—an identical-looking glass of red wine someone else had just left behind. The real one. The safe one.
By the time the waiter returned, flanked by a cleaning staff member, Theo was already holding the new drink casually, just as he had before.
“Thank you,” he said with an easy smile, and—under the waiter’s anxious gaze—he lifted the glass and took a slow, deliberate sip.
The relief on the waiter’s face was almost comical. He dropped his eyes quickly, hiding a smirk of what looked suspiciously like satisfaction.
But Evelyn, still hidden in the shadows, saw everything.
Her lips curled. Theo was good. Damn good.
He wasn’t just avoiding the trap—he was playing along. Pretending to fall for it. Drawing the snake from the hole.
Now that “Theo” had supposedly drunk the drugged wine, the one pulling the strings would make their move—and they’d come looking for her.
Evelyn turned silently and slipped away from the hall, retracing her steps to the private suite.
Within minutes, she’d changed into the gown Kane had sent earlier—sleek, fitted, and disarmingly elegant. She had barely finished adjusting the neckline when there was a soft knock at the door.
A female attendant’s voice drifted in.
“Mrs. Langston? Are you there? Mr. Kane isn’t feeling well. He’s resting in the third-floor terrace suite… he’s been calling your name. Would you like to go check on him?”
Evelyn faced the mirror one last time, brushing a delicate curl into place. Her lips curled into a smile—cool and razor-sharp.
“I’ll be right there,” she replied calmly, voice as smooth as silk.
- Writer
