CHAPTER 4: THE SETUP

The Glass Citadel showed no signs of slowing down, even as the illuminated clock high above the grand staircase drifted past midnight.

Downstairs in the main ballroom, the atmosphere remained electric. The heavy, rhythmic bass from the sound system vibrated right up through the polished marble floorboards, carrying with it the ambient hum of a crowd thoroughly enjoying themselves. Chilled champagne was still being poured liberally by attentive waitstaff in sleek black vests, and laughter echoed across every corner of the crowded room.

Joe was right in the middle of it all, moving through the space with the natural ease of someone who owned the world.

He glided effortlessly from one group to another, offering firm handshakes to senior business associates, sharing quiet jokes with old college friends, and effortlessly keeping the energy of the party alive. Near the center bar, he paused when he spotted Raymond. Joe stepped over, clapping a friendly hand on his future brother-in-law's shoulder.

"How are you holding up, Raymond?" Joe asked, his eyes warm with genuine affection. "You've been on your feet all night."

Raymond laughed, shaking his head. "I should be asking you that, birthday boy. It's an incredible turnout, Joe. Alisha is going to be talking about this night for years."

"She deserves every bit of it," Joe replied softly, looking around the room as if searching for her with a tender smile. "Honestly, I’m just glad we could bring everyone together. Family first, right?"

They shared a quiet, comfortable moment talking about the upcoming wedding plans before Raymond checked his watch, letting out a soft sigh.

"Speaking of which, I think I'm going to have to call it a night, man. Early morning tomorrow," Raymond said, extending a hand. "Congratulations again. For everything."

"Thanks for coming, Raymond. Get home safe," Joe said, gripping his hand warmly.

After seeing Raymond off near the main valet entrance, Joe didn't retreat to a corner to rest. Instead, he made his rounds back toward the front doors, posing for photos with a group of elderly family friends who were heading out. He thanked them individually for coming to celebrate his birthday and his engagement, ensuring each person felt personally seen and valued.

When one of his company’s lead investors stopped him near the lounge to ask how he was handling the late hour, Joe just laughed off the fatigue. He took a light sip from his crystal glass, setting it down on a nearby high-top table to cut a small slice of his birthday cake. He shared it with a few laughing friends near the dessert station, playfully debating whether they should hire the party's DJ for the actual wedding reception.

To anyone watching—from the service staff to his closest colleagues—he was simply the consummate host, overflowing with joy and savoring every last minute of a milestone evening.

Across the vast room, tucked into the dim shadows near the far end of the long marble bar, Felicia stood alone.

She leaned her hip heavily against the edge of the cool stone counter, her fingers wrapped so tightly around the thin stem of her champagne flute that her knuckles showed white. Her mind was still spinning from her brief, sharp encounter with Alisha earlier in the evening. No matter how hard she tried to focus on something else, the memory kept replaying on a loop: Alisha’s effortless grace, that soft, knowing smile, and the blinding sparkle of that flawless diamond ring resting on her finger.

A tight, painful knot of jealousy twisted deep in Felicia’s chest. It made her throat feel dry and her stomach churn with a sudden, bitter spike of annoyance.

She lifted her glass and swallowed the last drop of champagne in one sharp gulp, setting the empty glass down on the marble with a harsh, decisive clack.

A passing waiter carried a fresh silver tray piled high with topped-off glasses. Without a second thought, Felicia reached out and snatched a new flute off the tray. She didn't pause to appreciate the vintage; she took a long, heavy draft, letting the icy bubbles burn down her throat as she leaned back against the bar to watch the swirling crowd on the dance floor.

A few quiet minutes ticked by. The music thumped in the background, a distant wall of sound.

Then, without warning, a strange, creeping wave of intense heat washed up the back of her neck.

Felicia froze, her brow furrowing in instant confusion. She lifted two fingers to fan her face, taking a long, deliberate breath through her nose. Her forehead felt suddenly slick, and her head grew unnaturally light, as though the oxygen had been sucked out of the room in a single second.

Gosh… how much did I actually drink tonight?

She blinked hard, trying to clear the sudden static fuzzing her vision. She took a small step backward from the bar, intending to navigate toward one of the velvet lounge chairs nearby, but her legs refused to cooperate properly. Her heels felt heavy, almost glued to the floor, and the room seemed to tilt at a strange, sickening angle.

Her left knee buckled without warning. Felicia let out a faint, breathless gasp, her arm shooting out blindly into the air as she tried to catch herself against the edge of a table.

A steady, firm hand caught her gently by the elbow before she could hit the floor.

“Careful.”

The voice was calm. Familiar enough to be instantly reassuring, yet completely impossible to place through the thick, suffocating fog rapidly clouding her mind.

“You look a little unsteady.”

Felicia blinked heavily, struggling to focus on the person standing beside her, but the surrounding lights bled together into long, streaky halos. The faces of the nearby guests melted into useless, blurry shapes, and the pounding music sounded muffled, as if she were suddenly submerged deep underwater.

“I… I think I need to sit down,” she managed to mumble, her tongue thick and uncooperative against her teeth. “My head…”

“Let me help you upstairs,” the voice offered smoothly, easily taking on her weight before she could collapse. “You can lie down in one of the private guest suites until your head clears up.”

Felicia didn't have the strength to question it or fight back. She simply gave a faint, heavy nod, letting her body slacken as she was guided away from the noise of the ballroom and ushered toward the quiet, low-lit corridor that led to the private elevators.

Upstairs on the private guest floor, the atmosphere was a stark world away from the chaos below.

The dimly lit, plush carpeted hallway stretched out in complete, heavy silence. The elevator doors slid open with barely a whisper. Felicia’s feet dragged listlessly across the carpet, her vision swimming in massive, dark waves that threatened to pull her under entirely with every step. Her head hung low, completely supported by the firm grip guiding her down the quiet corridor.

They came to a halt outside a heavy mahogany suite door.

A black hotel keycard was produced and tapped lightly against the electronic sensor. The small indicator light flickered from red to green with a quiet, sharp beep.

The heavy door swung open into a dimly lit suite, its silence swallowing the sounds of the party outside.

Felicia let out a quiet, slurred breath, her eyelids fluttering shut as she surrendered entirely to the overwhelming weight pulling at her consciousness. She was guided across the threshold, her high heels slipping uselessly off her feet onto the deep carpet before the heavy door gently swung back into its frame.

The suite door clicked shut.

The music downstairs continued.

And somewhere inside the Glass Citadel…

another trap had just been sprung.