Room 606 Not 909 (2)

As they drove to the Ritz Hotel, Mia kept up a lively conversation, distracting Heather from her thoughts. But behind Mia's comforting words and friendly demeanor lay a seething resentment. 

Mia had always been jealous of Heather. She hated how her brother chose Heather over any of her own friends. 

Seeing Heather broken like this brought a twisted satisfaction that she hid well.

At the hotel, Mia made sure they got a luxurious suite, treating Heather like a queen for the night. They ordered room service, sipped on champagne, and Mia did her best to keep Heather's spirits high.

Heather, though still hurt, felt a bit of the tension easing away as they settled into the plush surroundings. 

"Thank you, Mia," she said, genuinely grateful. "I don't know what I would have done without you tonight."

Mia smiled, a flicker of malice hidden behind her eyes. "That's what friends are for, Heather. I'll always be here for you."

Heather, feeling slightly more relaxed but still emotionally drained, leaned back into the plush sofa of the hotel suite. Mia, ever the attentive frenemy, continued to chat animatedly, making sure Heather's glass was never empty.

Suddenly, Mia's phone buzzed. She glanced at it and pretended to frown. "Oh, no," she said, putting on a concerned expression. "It's my boss from the hospital. There's an emergency, and they're asking if I can cover a night shift."

Heather's heart sank a little, not wanting to be alone but also not wanting to impose further. "It's okay, Mia. You should go. I'll be fine here."

Mia put a hand on Heather's shoulder, feigning reluctance. "I hate to leave you like this, but duty calls. Before I go, though, let me get you something to help you relax." 

She stood up and went to the minibar, mixing a drink for Heather. Unseen by Heather, Mia slipped a small, dissolvable pill into the glass.

"Here," Mia said, handing the drink to Heather. "This will help you sleep. You need to rest after everything that's happened tonight."

Heather took the drink gratefully, sipping it slowly. The effects of the spiked drink began to take hold quickly, making her feel drowsy and less focused. Mia watched with satisfaction as Heather's eyelids grew heavy.

"Why don't you go to the room and lie down?" Mia suggested, handing Heather a keycard. "I booked room 606 for you. It's quiet and cozy, perfect for getting some rest."

Heather nodded, barely able to keep her eyes open. "Thank you, Mia," she murmured. "You're a real lifesaver."

Mia smiled, her eyes cold despite the warmth in her voice. "Anything for you, Heather. Now go get some sleep."

Heather managed to get up and make her way to the elevator, feeling her steps growing heavier with each passing second. 

Back in the suite, Mia took out her phone and dialed a number, her demeanor shifting entirely. "It's done," she said into the phone, her voice icy. "She's in room 606. Make sure everything goes as planned. I don't want any mistakes."

She hung up and smirked to herself, a sense of triumph washing over her. Heather's presence had always been a thorn in her side, and now she had taken a significant step toward removing it permanently.

Mia glanced at the clock, grabbed her bag, and left the suite, her steps brisk and purposeful. 

As she exited the hotel, she felt a surge of satisfaction. Heather was out of the way for now, and whatever happened next would be out of her hands.

Heather, her vision blurring and her steps unsteady, stumbled through the hotel hallway. The keycard felt heavy in her hand, and the numbers on the doors seemed to swim before her eyes. 

She turned the card over and, in her dizzy state, misread the upside-down number. Instead of heading to room 606, she made her way to room 909. The door, left slightly ajar, didn't need her to swipe the card.

Pushing the door open, Heather entered the room, unaware of her mistake. The room was dimly lit, a warm glow from a bedside lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. 

She blinked, trying to steady her vision, and saw a man sitting in an armchair near the window.

The man looked up, not really surprised by her sudden entrance. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice deep and hoarse.

Heather, too disoriented to recognize anything, sank into a chair opposite him. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her words slurring slightly. "I just... I needed to talk to someone."

Tears welled up in Heather's eyes as she began to recount the night's events.

"I did everything for him," she said, her voice breaking. "I went to see Eamon Rodge, got his signature, but when I came back, I found Marcus with another woman. I thought he loved me."

The man listened silently, his expression softening. Heather continued, the words pouring out of her in a rush. 

"And then Mia... She was supposed to be my friend, but I don't know. I don't want to suspect her but my heart keeps saying she…. I just want to run away from here, this city, from all this pain."

Her voice trailed off as the effects of the spiked drink pulled her further into drowsiness. She barely registered the man's concerned expression as she slumped deeper into the chair, her eyes fluttering shut.

Eamon Rodge sat quietly in the armchair, his dark lenses masking his eyes as he listened to Heather's distraught words. 

He watched as she poured out her heart, her pain evident in every slurred word. When she spoke of wanting to run away from the city, Eamon's expression shifted subtly, a flicker of anger mixed with amusement dancing in his eyes.

As Heather finally succumbed to the effects of the spiked drink, Eamon stood up without his walking cane, his movements measured and deliberate. 

He approached the bed where Heather lay, her breathing now deep and even. A small smile played on his lips as he regarded her, a mixture of longing and a growing resolve forming in his mind.

"Those who hurt you will pay," Eamon murmured softly, his voice barely audible in the quiet room.

He sat back down in the armchair, his mind racing. Heather's ordeal had stirred something within him. 

He had encountered her before, brief moments in City M where their paths had crossed fleetingly. But this time was different. This time, he had the chance to act.

Eamon picked up his phone and made a call. "It's Eamon," he said, his voice cold and authoritative. "I need you to…"