Chapter 41

"I'm going to the dance floor to dance my sorrow away," Cleo announced, her voice laced with a blend of defiance and heartbreak. She stood up from her seat with a graceful determination, brushing off the concerned look Claire gave her. Without another word, she turned and made her way toward the pulsing rhythm of the dance floor, her heels clicking against the tiles as she disappeared into the crowd, the neon lights catching the shimmer of her dress.

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‎Meanwhile, Zoe had just arrived at the club. She paused near the entrance, scanning the vibrant, crowded room in search of an empty table. Her eyes flicked across the sea of bodies swaying to the music, until they landed on a familiar figure moving fluidly under the flashing lights. There she was.

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‎Zoe’s breath caught for a second. She recognized her immediately, the same woman she had once sent someone to quietly investigate. Cleo. Even now, with the music thundering and the lights dimmed, her beauty was undeniable. A beauty that, deep down, Zoe envied. She had always hated how effortless Cleo made it all seem, grace, confidence, allure. And now, here she was, dancing like she owned the floor. Like she owned him.

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‎Zoe narrowed her eyes, jealousy creeping into her chest like poison. She quickly averted her gaze, forcing herself to walk past the dance floor and toward a small vacant table tucked near the corner. But even as she sat down, her eyes kept drifting back to Cleo, resentment slowly building behind her cool exterior. Her jaw clenched as hatred flickered briefly across her expression.

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‎Looking at the dancing floor with hatred, zoe sat frozen, her gaze fixed on Cleo moving beneath the lights. Her expression was unreadable at first, until her lips parted and she muttered under her breath, "I won't let you have him."

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‎Just then, the soft vibration of her phone buzzed from inside her purse, pulling her momentarily from her thoughts. She reached into the bag, searching blindly for her phone, but instead her fingers brushed against something else. A small vial clear and cold against her skin. She had slipped it into her purse before leaving the house, half on impulse, half with a plan forming in the back of her mind. Now, as her eyes lifted once more to Cleo spinning carefree on the dance floor, a dark idea began to take shape.

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‎Claire eventually joined Cleo on the dance floor, where a lively crowd swayed and moved in rhythm with the booming beats from the DJ. The lights flashed overhead, casting streaks of color across their faces as they danced, caught up in the energy of the moment.

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‎"Hey, better not fall!" Claire called out, laughing as she watched her friend wobble slightly. Earlier, Cleo had proudly boasted about her high alcohol tolerance, claiming she could drink anyone under the table.

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‎Cleo shot her a look, struggling to steady herself. "It’s my shoes, okay? I’m not drunk," she insisted, though her words slurred slightly. She waved a hand dismissively and kept dancing, swaying a little too much to the side.

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‎Claire wasn’t convinced. As the music continued to pulse through the room, she kept a close eye on Cleo. Twice now she’d had to catch her before she toppled over completely, and the third time, she managed to grab her just in time as Cleo lost her balance again.

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‎“That’s enough,” Claire muttered, slipping an arm around Cleo’s waist and guiding her off the dance floor.

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‎"Why are you dragging me away?” Cleo protested, her words thick and her eyes wide with irritation. “I haven’t finished dancing yet!"

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‎Claire turned to her, frowning slightly. "If I don’t drag you away, we’re going to embarrass ourselves. Is that what you want? For everyone here to laugh at us?" she said firmly, guiding Cleo toward a quieter corner of the room.

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‎Cleo pouted, her lips pushing out like a sulking child. The sight made Claire crack a smile despite herself.

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‎"You’re so dramatic," Cleo grumbled, flopping onto the couch.

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‎"And you're so tipsy," Claire replied, chuckling as she sat beside her.

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‎"Ma'am, a gentleman asked me to bring you this drink," the waiter said as he approached their table, cutting into their conversation with a polite yet professional tone. With a slight bow, he handed the glass to Cleo and then turned on his heel, swiftly disappearing back into the crowd and returning to his duties.

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‎Cleo raised an eyebrow and looked at the drink curiously, its deep crimson hue catching the soft lighting of the lounge. Just as she brought it to her lips, Claire leaned forward, alarm flashing in her eyes.

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‎"You’re not actually going to drink that, are you?" Claire asked sharply, her voice low but urgent. Before Cleo could respond, Claire reached out and snatched the glass from her hand.

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‎"Claire!" Cleo protested, clearly annoyed.

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‎Ignoring her friend’s glare, Claire took a quick sip, then downed the rest in one confident gulp. She let out a satisfied sigh and gave Cleo a mischievous grin.

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‎"You!" Cleo hissed, shooting her an incredulous look.

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‎Claire set the empty glass down on the table with a little clink. "You’ve had enough for tonight anyway," she said smugly. "Besides, your secret admirer has excellent taste. That was delicious."

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‎Cleo folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at her friend. "You're insufferable."

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‎Claire only laughed, clearly enjoying herself.

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