Sara booked a ride, sighing as she realized the destination was at least an hour away—halfway across the city. Regret pricked at her, but she'd already agreed. Besides, it was just a delivery. Nothing to overthink.
Settling into the backseat, she glanced at the files and the bag beside her, fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the zipper. Something about this felt off, but she shook the feeling away. Don't overthink it. Just get it done.
She lifted her gaze absentmindedly and immediately froze. The driver's eyes were on her through the rearview mirror.
A sharp chill ran down her spine. Was he looking at me?
Just as quickly, he glanced away, as if nothing had happened. Maybe she had imagined it. Maybe she was just being paranoid.
Sara turned to stare out the window, hoping the city lights and passing cars would make time go faster. But the further they drove, the fewer the lights became. The road was growing quieter, lonelier. The cityscape faded into the distance, swallowed by an eerie stretch of deserted highway.
Her stomach twisted.
Something didn't feel right.
She flicked her eyes back to the mirror—this time, she caught him.
His gaze lingered on her a second too long before snapping away again.
A cold sweat broke out on her palms. Her fingers twitched toward her phone. She checked the GPS. They were still on the right route. No detours. No wrong turns.
But why did it feel so wrong?
Sara's heartbeat hammered in her ears as an idea struck. She pressed her phone to her ear, forcing a bright, cheerful voice.
"Hey, love! Yeah, I know! I heard!" She let out a fake giggle. "Mmm-hmm. Oh, it's about to rain? Make sure you have an umbrella for me when I get there, okay?"
She stole a glance at the driver through the mirror. His fingers twitched over the wheel. His posture stiffened slightly.
Sara smiled wider. "Yeah, I just sent you my location so you know exactly where I am." She let out another forced chuckle, hoping her voice didn't shake. "Love you! See you soon."
She ended the call and set her phone down, her fingers curled so tightly around it that her nails dug into her palm.
A heavy silence stretched between them before the driver finally spoke.
"You got a boyfriend?"
Sara's breath hitched, but she kept her voice calm. "Yeah."
Short. Dismissive. She turned her gaze back to the window, praying they'd get there soon.
"Missy you are very cute you know?" He added.
As if her breath had been choked, Sara forced out a quick, shaky, "Thank you."
She couldn't bring herself to say anything more—afraid that one wrong word, one misplaced reaction, might set him off.
The air in the car felt suffocating.
His voice cut through the silence. "Wanna get a drink?"
Her stomach lurched.
"I have a boyfriend. I'm sorry," she said, her voice clipped as she reached for her bag. Her fingers fumbled over the zipper, her pulse hammering in her ears.
The location was drawing closer. She could see it now. Just a few more seconds. Just a little longer, and she could get out.
The driver hesitated, as if debating whether to say more, but then the car slowed to a stop.
Sara didn't wait. She dug into her bag, pulled out some cash, and thrust it toward him—desperate to end the interaction as fast as possible.
He reached for the money, his fingers grazing hers.
A sickening chill crawled up her spine.
Her stomach twisted with disgust, but she forced herself to stay still. Then, without a second thought, she yanked her hand away, snatched up her things, and bolted out of the car.
The cool night air hit her like a slap, but she welcomed it. Anything to wash away the cloying, suffocating feeling of being trapped in that car.
She didn't wait. She dashed into the sky-high residential building—clearly a place where billionaires lived, where people like her didn't belong.
The moment she stepped inside, she sucked in a sharp breath.
A grand chandelier hung from the third-floor ceiling, a waterfall of crystal beads shimmering under the golden lights. The glow reflected off the polished marble floors, casting patterns that looked almost unreal. Every inch of the place screamed wealth—the kind that didn't just come from money but from generations of power. Ornate woodwork framed the walls, intricate carvings etched into the high-end material. The air itself carried the faint, expensive scent of fresh flowers and something delicate, something exclusive.
Sara felt painfully out of place.
A staff member approached her, a woman dressed in an impeccably tailored uniform. Her expression remained polite, but the slight flicker in her eyes made it clear—she knew Sara didn't belong here.
"Miss, what brings you here?" she asked smoothly.
"Oh!" Sara snapped out of her daze, forcing a nervous smile. "I—I'm here to deliver these to—" She trailed off, realization hitting her like a slap. She hadn't even taken the apartment number.
The woman arched a brow. "Where to, may I ask?"
"I—" Sara fumbled, then quickly pulled out the key she had been given. "I have this key. Here. Can you bring it to the apartment? It is a delivery."
The moment the woman saw the sleek, grey-sealed keycard, her expression flickered. Her eyes scanned Sara from head to toe, assessing something unspoken.
Then, her demeanor shifted—ever so slightly.
"We cannot do that," she said, placing the key back in Sara's hand. "This is the key to the penthouse."
Sara's stomach flipped.
"Please, this way." The woman's tone was much more pleasant now, her previous scrutiny melting away as she pressed the elevator button.
The doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing an elevator unlike anything Sara had ever seen. It was massive—its copper-plated walls polished to a mirror-like shine, reflecting her uncertain expression back at her. The buttons, coated in gold, glowed softly under warm lighting. Inside, an elevator attendant stood at perfect attention.
The woman turned to him. "The penthouse, please."
He gave a curt nod before pressing the topmost button.
Sara stepped inside, the sheer extravagance making her throat dry. Her heart pounded as the doors shut, trapping her within the silent luxury.
"Where is this place?" The thought echoed in her head as she stared at the reflection of herself—small, misplaced, and utterly overwhelmed by the kind of wealth that didn't just open doors. It built them. 'Who are Blue's parents? " She rubbed her arm nervously and waited in silence for a long time until she finally reached the 76th floor.
The doors swung open, and she peeked out, her breath hitching at the sheer, otherworldly luxury that stretched before her.
The elevator boy held the door open, waiting patiently until she stepped out. As soon as she did, the doors slid shut behind her, leaving her standing at the entrance of a place that felt too grand to be real.
She took a slow step toward the entry door, her chest rising and falling heavily. With trembling fingers, she pressed the keycard against the small sensor. A soft click echoed in the silence.
Sara slipped inside, closing the door behind her with a quiet push. She leaned against it for a moment, her nerves coiling tight.
"Gosh… what is this place?"
Her eyes darted around, absorbing details that made her stomach tighten with disbelief. The ceilings soared at an impossible height—twenty-seven feet at least. Unique, sculptural hanging lights dangled in the brief hallway, casting soft glows over the sleek marble floors. The hallway led to an expansive living room, stretching nearly three thousand square feet—just for the living space.
Low-lined, luxurious furniture was arranged with effortless elegance, the kind that whispered wealth rather than screamed it. A glossy black grand piano sat in the center like a statement piece, untouched yet commanding attention. The only illumination came from the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, where the city's nightscape sprawled endlessly, flickering like a sea of stars beneath the towering penthouse.
She took a shaky breath.
"What is this… This—"
Her words trailed off as she turned, her eyes catching the breathtaking view of the city beneath her. The glass walls made it feel as though she was floating above it all, suspended in a world meant for the elite.
Then—click.
The lights flickered on, filling the room with a warm golden hue.
It was too much. The opulence. The space. The suffocating realization that she did not belong here.
She took a step back—only to freeze.
A figure stood a few feet away.
Her breath lodged in her throat.
Him.
Her eyes widened in shock, mirroring the cold contempt etched into his face.
"You?" His voice was sharp, dripping with disdain.
Sara felt the blood drain from her face.
"You?" she gasped, horrified.