The next day...
At 3:30 in the afternoon, guests began to arrive at the lobby of the Dusit Thani Hotel in the city, gathering to celebrate the birthday of Chelly Jean, daughter of the country's BPO magnate, Ernesto Jean. Only the rich and powerful had received invitations, but Sandra, not part of that elite circle, had managed to secure one through a dear friend.
Dressed in a simple, yet elegant, silver minimalist gown that accentuated her curves, paired with sparkling silver stilettos, Sandra made her entrance into the venue. The vast ballroom greeted her, adorned with exquisite ornaments and fresh flowers artfully arranged at the center of each table. Clusters of people in glamorous gowns and tailored suits mingled, their wine glasses in hand, weaving through conversations with practiced ease.
In one corner, a band played smooth, melodious classical music on violins, pianos, and various other instruments, setting the tone for this high-class affair. Sandra presented her invitation to the floor attendant, then gracefully took a glass of wine from a passing waiter. With a quick scan of the room, she sought out her place among the sea of opulence.
In one of the hotel rooms, the birthday girl, Chelly Jean, sat patiently as makeup artists worked their magic on her face. Her mother, Erin Jean, glided over, her heels clicking softly on the floor.
"Chelly, dear, Roland Fleming is attending tonight. You must make a good impression," Erin advised, her tone both urgent and expectant.
"Mom, I know," Chelly replied, her eyes closed and her head still, exuding confidence in her beauty. In her mind, only Roland Fleming was worthy to stand by her side. Tonight, she was determined to win over this billionaire.
She had already concocted a plan. Rumors whispered through the elite circles that the Fleming family were staunch traditionalists, valuing decency and reputation above all. Chelly's curiosity piqued at the thought of what might transpire if she were to share Roland's bed that night. Would they demand an immediate marriage? The mere idea sent a thrilling flutter through her heart.
One of the waiters tonight was tasked with ensuring that Roland Fleming received a glass of drugged wine. Chelly would then seize the opportunity to assist him when he felt unwell, guiding him discreetly to one of the hotel rooms.
"Miss Jean, your makeup is done," her personal makeup artist announced, snapping Chelly out of her scheming reverie. She opened her eyes to meet her reflection in the mirror, deeply satisfied with her appearance. There was no doubt in her mind; she would be the most beautiful woman tonight.
Rising from her seat, she glided out of the room and onto the stage in the venue, ready to greet her guests.
"Good evening, everyone. Thank you so much for taking time from your busy schedules to attend this simple birthday celebration of mine. I hope everyone enjoys their night! Cheers!" Chelly's voice rang out with practiced charm. After her speech, she descended from the stage and began mingling with the crowd, her eyes occasionally darting toward the doorway, checking for the arrival of her target.
"Who is that?" Chelly's best friend, Aliza, suddenly inquired, nudging her. Chelly turned her gaze in the direction Aliza was looking and spotted a woman in a simple silver gown and matching silver shoes. Neither of them recognized her; she was evidently not from their usual high society circle.
Chelly's frown deepened, but then one of her friends chimed in, "I think I've seen her before. She's the owner of OS Allure, a local mid-range brand. It's been gaining popularity with influencers and young rich daughters recently."
Aliza scoffed, "She looks so plain and dull, her face is just average. I'm pretty sure Chelly didn't invite her, right, Chelly?" she asked disdainfully, seeking confirmation from Chelly.
Chelly, however, was not in the mood for Aliza's antics tonight; she had bigger fish to fry. "She must have been invited by the organizer; she's a businesswoman after all. We should leave—" Chelly didn't get to finish her sentence before Aliza brushed past her, heading straight for Sandra.
Sandra couldn't ignore the obnoxious clack of high heels approaching her. She turned to see a beautiful, elegant woman striding toward her with a storm in her eyes. Was it anger or just her imagination playing tricks?
"Miss, how did you enter this party? Do you have an invitation?" Aliza asked scornfully, her tone dripping with disdain.
Sandra felt a flare of annoyance but kept her expression serene. She was in a den of elites, after all, and needed to tread carefully. Her gaze shifted from the angry woman to the birthday girl herself, Chelly Jean. With a gracious smile, Sandra said, "Miss Jean, I wish you a happy birthday. You look absolutely stunning tonight."
Chelly, pleased with the compliment and grateful that Sandra didn't react to Aliza's childish behavior, responded warmly, "Miss Romualdez, right? I'm so glad to meet you. Your clothing brand's designs are trendy and refreshing, and I appreciate you coming to my party."'
'As expected,' Sandra thought, acknowledging the refined poise of someone raised in elite circles. Chelly's grace was indeed on another level.
"I apologize for Aliza's behavior, Miss Romualdez. I hope you won't take it to heart; she doesn't have any ill intentions," Chelly continued, her voice smooth and conciliatory.
"You're being too kind, Miss Jean," Sandra replied, waving her hands dismissively. She didn't need such a prominent figure apologizing to her.
Meanwhile, Aliza, feeling ignored and seething internally, would have loved nothing more than to put this upstart in her place, if not for her fear of offending Chelly.
A sudden commotion at the entrance of the hall caught everyone's attention, whispers spreading like wildfire. "It's Mr. Fleming, the Chairman of Fleming Corps."
Chelly's heart skipped a beat. He was finally here, and she could set her plan into motion. She scanned the room, locking eyes with the waiter she had commissioned for her scheme, giving him a discreet signal to proceed.
Sandra, feeling a bit tipsy from the evening's drinks, glanced at the stack of business cards she'd collected, satisfaction blooming in her chest. She'd made significant connections tonight, networking with key figures in the business world, and every sip of alcohol felt justified.
Just as she was about to head to the restroom, another group approached, eager to toast with her. Sandra was nearing her limit, the room spinning slightly, but she managed a gentle smile, trying to maintain her composure.
In another corner of the grand hall, a waiter approached Roland, who was deeply engaged in conversation. The waiter offered him a new drink, which Roland accepted without hesitation.
Moments later, after sipping from his third glass, Roland felt something was off. It was too early for him to be this affected by alcohol. He excused himself, heading towards the exit of the event hall.
Chelly, observing from a distance, saw the signs of the drug beginning to take effect. Narrowing her eyes, she prepared to move, but then Aliza, along with her parents, intercepted her, forcing Chelly to engage in unwanted pleasantries with the high-society leaders. Cursing silently, she had no choice but to entertain them before she could slip away. But when she looked towards where Roland had been, he was nowhere to be seen.
Sandra glanced at the clock, realizing it was already eight at night. She couldn't bear to trouble Rayna to come pick her up in her current state. Opting for caution, she made her way to the hotel lobby to book a room, deciding it was far too risky to hail a taxi when she was on the brink of passing out from intoxication. Maintaining a facade of composure and grace, she walked towards the elevator. The moment the doors slid shut, leaving her alone, her strength ebbed away, the drunkenness hitting her like a wave, making her stomach churn with nausea.
Meanwhile, outside the banquet hall, Roland, struggling to keep his mind clear, came to a chilling realization: he had been drugged. "Who has the guts?" he muttered through clenched teeth, anger flaring despite his disorientation. With the last of his strength, he pulled out his phone to call Andreas, his assistant, explaining his dire situation.
Andreas, ever the resourceful aide, quickly booked a room in the hotel for Roland to recuperate. "Boss, head to the elevator. An attendant will be waiting for you with a room card key," he instructed.
Breathing heavily, Roland felt a searing pain and intense heat coursing through his lower body. With painstaking effort, he dragged himself towards the hotel elevator, each step a battle against the effects of the drug.