Chapter 8 : Jack Frost or what

Mondragon and his friends strolled into the elite club, their usual spot for private meetings and a little bit of fun.

The receptionist straightened nervously as he approached. "Mr. Mondragon, you and your men will have to use a different meeting room today."

Mr. Mondragon paused mid step and glanced back at his friends with an amused smirk. "He must be new here," he said with a chuckle.

"I'm sorry, sir," the receptionist continued hesitantly. "The room is currently in use."

Mondragon's smile faded. "And what does that have to do with us?" he said with a sharp tone. "Clear it and have it ready in two minutes. We don’t have all day."

The receptionist swallowed hard. "There’s another exclusive spot on the left side," he suggested..

Mondragon arched a brow. "Since when do we have to wait?" He leaned in slightly "Are you trying to lose your job?" Another low chuckle escaped his lips, but his eyes held no humor.

Mr. Mondragon and his men walked past him as they headed toward their usual meeting room when the receptionist suddenly stepped in front of them and blocked their path.

"P…Please, sir… there's another similar spot available," the receptionist stammered as he bowed slightly with a hands trembling hands.

One of Mondragon’s men scoffed. "Are we a joke to you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

The receptionist swallowed hard. "The current guest has requested complete privacy, sir."

A chuckle echoed from the back of the group as Mr. KM Smith, his oval-shaped head gleaming under the lights stepped forward. "So… are we in someone’s private property now?" he sneered. "Or is this club suddenly under new management?"

Mondragon smirked, but there was no humor in his eyes. He took a slow step closer to the receptionist, who looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. "You must not understand how things work around here," he murmured "That room belongs to us whenever we decide to use it..tell whoever is there to leave or move to that spot instead"

"There is no need… I am leaving already," a voice said from inside as his feetsteps was heard approching.

Mondragon and his men immediately turned their heads, their curiosity piqued as they waited to see who dared to take over their spot.

The receptionist swallowed nervously and quickly lowered his head. "I….I am really sorry, sir, for the interruption," he stammered.

The man inside chuckled and stepped forward with an air of authority. "Don't worry. That’s fine," he said casually before turning his gaze to Mondragon and his men.

"Mr. Mondragon, Diego… It’s nice to see you again," Rafael said smoothly before extending his hand for a handshake.

Mondragon didn’t even spare him a glance, his arms remained at his sides. The air grew tense as Rafael’s hand lingered for a moment before he lowered it with a knowing smirk.

"I guess powerful men like you don’t shake hands anymore," Rafael remarked..

Mr Mondragon's BP raised, so did his friends.

"I will take my leave. You all can have some fun," Rafael said and clasped his hands to show some respect before walking away.

Mr Mondragon’s jaw clenched as he turned to watch him go, his eyes burning with fury..his curled into a fists at his sides..

That bastard…" one of them muttered.

"Who does he think he is? Jack frost or what… He needs to know his place," another one said.

Mondragon took a deep breath and walked off to the room, his friends following behind.

…...

A few days later

Thersa sighed as she hurried behind her, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

“Can you move a bit faster behind me?” Mom Camillia said without looking back. “I wouldn’t want to reach ahead and realize you’re lagging behind.”

Thersa rolled her eyes but quickened her steps. “Where exactly are we going?”

Camillia finally stopped at the grand entrance and adjusted the delicate brooch on her dress. “A gathering,” she said casually.

 “Thersa frowned  ''A gathering?”

“Yes, a women’s gathering ur kind of women,” Camillia added, casting her a sharp glance. “It’s time you start attending these things.

"Camillia," the woman said, breathlessly, "Ah, long time no see..I was hoping you'd make it"

"Of course, darling," Camillia responded smoothly and placed a hand on the woman's arm. "You know I wouldn’t miss it since I'm in town. And I brought my daughter in law."

The woman’s gaze flickered to Thersa and scanned her from head to toe before offering a tight smile. "Ah, I see... finally stepping into our world, I see."

Thersa forced a polite nod.

“Come,” Camillia said, looping her arm through the woman’s as they made their way inside. “Let’s not keep the others waiting.”

Immediately they entered, Thersa’s eyes scanned the room. These realised they weren’t women of her kind, as Camillia had claimed. They were oldermost in their mid-50s and above dressed in expensive silk and adorned with pearls...

Camillia didn’t bother with introductions. She moved with the confidence of someone who already owned the space and greeted the women with effortless charm.

“Oh, Camillia,” one of the women cooed, setting down her teacup. “Always so punctual. We were just discussing how certain standards seem to be slipping these days.”

Camillia scoffed lightly and waved a delicate hand. “That’s because some people mistake modernity for carelessness. We know better, don’t we?”

A round of approving nods followed. Thersa, standing slightly apart, felt their eyes flicker toward her.

Another woman leaned in, lowering her voice just enough to be heard. “And how are things at home, dear? I imagine keeping everything in order is… quite the task these days.”

Camillia smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, nothing I can’t handle. You know me..I run my home just as I run everything else. With flawless precision.”

The women hummed in approval, clearly entertained by the underlying meaning in her words. Thersa clenched her fists at her sides, feeling the passive-aggressive jabs dig under her skin.

“Well,” another woman sighed dramatically, “handling a household requires grace and firmness. If you’re too soft, people start forgetting their place.”

Camillia chuckled. “Exactly my point.” She finally glanced at her . “Some things just need a little… extra guidance.”

"Dear, have a seat," one of the women said as she gestured toward an empty chair.

Thersa hesitated but sat down as she felt the weight of their attention on her.

"Let’s get started, shall we?" another woman announced with a clap of her hands.

First, they played a few rounds of an elegant card game, where Thersa struggled to keep up with their sharp strategies. Then came a flower arrangement session, where she fumbled with delicate roses while the others crafted flawless centerpieces.

By the time they moved on to an embroidery activity, her fingers ached, and she could barely concentrate.

"You look a little tired, dear," one of the women said with a knowing smile.

Camillia smirked and sipped her tea. "Oh, she’s just not used to our way of doing things. But she’ll learn."

The women chuckled in agreement.

"If that’s the case," one of them said and turned to Thersa, "why don’t you help us set up the next round of refreshments?" She gestured toward a polished silver tray stacked with delicate teapots of fine china mugs.

Before Thersa could even react, Camillia spoke first. "Leave it. She’ll pack everything."

The women exchanged amused glances.

"Oh, how thoughtful," another one cooed, eyeing Thersa with interest. "Your daughter-in-law is very hardworking."

Thersa forced a faint smile and nodded, though her body screamed at her to stop. The air felt suffocating, her limbs heavy as she carefully lifted the tray.

The women continued laughing and chatting, their voices blurred together as she moved between them, serving tea, passing small plates of delicate desserts, refilling cups.

Her breath grew shallow.

Her vision wavered.

A sharp, stabbing pain began at the back of her head which creeped forward.

She blinked rapidly, trying to shake it off, but the dizziness worsened. Sweat beaded along her forehead, her dress clinging uncomfortably to her skin.

"Careful, dear, don’t drop anything," one of the women teased lightly as Thersa’s hands trembled while pouring.

Her heart pounded as she gave asurred smile.

The laughter around her felt distant. The smell of tea and pastries made her sick.

She placed a cup down and took a step back, but the floor beneath her seemed to move

Then.....her body gave in.

The porcelain teacup slipped from her grasp and shattered against the marble floor as Thersa collapsed beside it.

‘’Heyyy’’..the women who saw from their direction shouted

The last thing she saw before everything went dark was Camillia’s unbothered self