CHAPTER 3

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” My sister grumbled for the thousandth time since we left home that evening.

“Yes Aria, I heard you when you said it the moment you got out of bed this morning, I heard you when you were putting your shoes on, I heard you at the bus stop and on the bus too. But you’re serving there, you have a pass. All you have to do is just help me get in and I’ll do the rest.”

“The guards aren’t stupid, Lani. If they catch us—”

“They won’t.”

“You don’t even have a plan!”

“I always have a plan,” I lied.

I definitely did not have a plan, but I couldn’t let Aria’s words deter me. 

The Caldwell estate glowed like a city trapped in a snow globe— too bright, too perfect, and entirely untouchable. I stared in awe, and I was pretty sure my jaw was on the floor. The wide double doors were open and slow music drifted through them like perfume. Cars stopped right in front of the doors, releasing men and women dressed in clothes that probably cost more than my entire family’s life. 

Aria nudged me. “Move along. We’re not supposed to be here.” She fidgeted with the hem of the black uniform she had on. She had sewed me an identical one last night. “I hate heels,” she muttered.

“You hate everything,” I replied, following her to the back of the house. 

 “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Aria asked when we reached the door that must lead to the kitchen. 

“No,” I answered honestly. “But I don’t have a choice.”

Victor’s broken voice still rang in my head— bloodied, desperate. I’d seen his swollen lip in my head throughout the night. Heard the fear in his voice when he said the name of the man who threatened to kill him if the money wasn’t returned.

Five thousand dollars in one week. Or Victor dies.

The kitchen doors suddenly slammed open before Aria could say anything. A line of staff hurried out, led by a woman with a clipboard and a voice sharp enough to slice glass. “Servers, inside! Move like you’ve got sense!”

Aria took a breath and disappeared into the flow of waitstaff, tossing a quick glance back at me. 

“You!” The woman yelled, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at me. “You don’t understand English?”

“I- I do.”

“Then why are you just standing there? Move along now, chop chop!”

“Y- yes ma’am.”

I shuffled into the kitchen where a tray of drinks was immediately shoved into my hands. Without waiting to be told, I pushed the double doors that opened up to the party. 

The inside of the Caldwell mansion was even more ridiculous than the outside. Crystal chandeliers stretched like frozen waterfalls from the ceiling, and the floor was some kind of imported marble so clean it could reflect your lies back at you. Waiters in white gloves drifted by with trays of champagne and caviar. Women floated in silk dresses. Men strutted in suits that probably cost more than her entire street.

I placed the tray on a random table and moved to a corner of the room, keeping my head down. The plan was to keep a low profile and go unnoticed. 

I scanned the room with practiced eyes: watches, rings, wallets, necklaces. My target wasn’t just jewelry, jewelry was a last minute resort; I needed cash, something quick and untraceable. The kind of money rich people kept on them for tips, bribes, or ego. 

I’d picked the elite before— usually from behind a bus window or on the street— but tonight, I was in the lion’s den.

I drifted past a group of laughing businessmen, my fingers brushing one man’s jacket pocket. Empty. Another sipped champagne with a wallet practically screaming out of his breast pocket— but he was surrounded by bodyguards.

Damn.

I circled toward the back of the ballroom, my nerves buzzing like static. Then someone stepped in front of me, and I collided chest first into a wall of expensive cologne and muscle.

“Whoa,” said a smooth voice. “In a rush?”

I looked up— and immediately regretted it.

Dean Caldwell.

He had the kind of face sculptors dreamed about and devils copied. Tall, dressed in black, with a smirk that could gut you.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, stepping back.

He didn’t let me.

His hand shot out— not to grab me, but to lift something. My hand. My fingers, specifically— curled just near the edge of his pocket.

He chuckled, low and smooth. “I admire the boldness.”

My blood turned to ice.

He knew.

Dean didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t call a guard. He just stepped in closer, his breath brushing my ear. “I should have you thrown out, you know.”

“Then do it,” I muttered. Even though I was close to shitting my pants, I wasn’t going to let him see that.

“But where’s the fun in that?”

I glared at him. “What do you want?”

“Why are you stealing?”

“What does it matter?” I cleverly fired back. Dean didn’t answer, he only raised an eyebrow. I sighed. “Obviously I need the money. Not everyone is privileged enough to blow money on parties like this. Some of us struggle to survive, but what would you know?”

“Hmm,” he mused, looking like he was thinking carefully about my words.

I waited for him to say something, but nothing came. Instead, he reached into his pocket— yes, that same pocket— and pulled out folded crisp hundred dollar bills. He tucked it into my hand like he was handing me a secret. “For the effort. You’re lucky you picked the charming brother.”

I opened my mouth to respond, maybe even refuse to accept his money. It was nowhere near what I needed for Victor anyways, and my ego was hurt, but as I opened my mouth, a loud pop sliced through the music, followed by screams.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood at alert. My eyes scanned the room quickly, and I was frozen in place. A man near the fountain stumbled backward, blood blooming on his chest. Glass shattered. Someone else screamed.

Gunshot.

And just like that, chaos exploded. Guests shrieked and scattered, heels clacking against marble as they tripped over gowns and chairs. Dean was nowhere to be found. A thousand security guards rushed in, each one rushing to pull their bosses to safety. More security guards trooped in, scanning every inch of the room for the shooter. 

Someone pushed me out of the way as they ran, and that seemed to do the trick. My senses kicked back in and I knew we had to leave immediately.

Aria.

I ducked low and moved fast, weaving through the crowd until I spotted Aria across the room, still somehow holding a tray of untouched champagne. My sister’s eyes were wide, panic written across her face. She was staring directly at the dead man and his wife who was crying over his bloodied body.

I reached her and pushed the tray out of her hands, yanking her toward the exit. “Come on! We need to leave now!”

We pushed through the crowd, shoulder to shoulder. Behind us, guards shouted commands and guests sobbed. My pulse roared in my ears.

Outside. Almost there.

But as we neared the service entrance, Aria grabbed my arm and hissed, “Did you get it?”

I shook my head. “No, I wasn’t able to. But we need to leave now.”

Aria cursed under her breath. The memory of her red tinted cheeks when I mentioned Victor’s name last night flashed through my mind. At the age of six, my sister had planned her wedding to Victor, she had it all penned down to the number of kids they would have and the house that they would live in. We all knew that the crush would die on its own, but for now, it was still there. And maybe that was why she did what she did next.

It happened so fast. Before I could stop her. Aria had her sights on the frazzled looking woman in a pink dinner gown just in front of us, and before I knew it, she had slipped the woman’s purse out of her hands.

Aria may be the most talented person I knew, but she was no thief. So of course, the woman noticed.

“Thief! Thief!” She screamed. “That little thief stole my purse!”

My heart pounded dangerously in my chest. And I quickly dragged Aria to try and escape, but before we could even turn, we were already surrounded. 

Three guards had us perfectly locked in. 

The woman wouldn’t stop screaming profanities even after her purse had been handed back to her. 

One of the guards grabbed Aria’s arm, and I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. 

“Stop it!” I screamed. “It wasn’t her, you’re making a huge mistake! This is all my fault!”

But nobody was listening to me.

“She’s just a stupid kid. She didn’t mean any harm. Please!” My eyes flitted crazily around the room, as if I could find anybody here that would care about two poor girls from the slums. My eyes met Dean’s across the room that was gradually getting emptier. My eyes carried a silent plea. I didn’t know what I was expecting, that he would help me? He was probably pleased that we had gotten caught. There was no sign of compassion in his eyes, it was just blank, emotionless.

“I’m just a stupid kid!” Aria begged, already shaking.

“Shut it!” The guard yelled. “You’re a thief, and you know what happens to thieves.” He tightened his grip on her wrist and before I could blink, he had pressed her arm down hard on the edge of the stone banister and slammed the butt of his gun on it. 

A sickening crack echoed.

Aria screamed.

I lunged, shoving the guard back, but two others closed in. One raised a baton. “She stole from a guest!”

“She’s just a kid!” I shouted. “She didn’t even—”

“Her hand’s broken,” another guard said.

“She deserves worse.”

I grabbed Aria’s good arm and forced her to stand. “She’s bleeding. Let us go before I scream so loud your bosses can’t ignore it.”

For a second, they hesitated.

Then one of them shoved me. “Get out. We have a shooter to find anyway.”

I didn’t wait.

I dragged Aria down the driveway, gasping and sobbing beside me, her arm limp and twisted at the wrist.

The bright lights of the Caldwell estate faded behind them, replaced by the harsh reality of street lamps and shadows.

We were back in the real world.

But the nightmare had just begun.