Chapter 5

When Ellery stepped out of the changing room and into the ballroom, a hush fell over the crowd.

Every head turned. The dress, which Kenzie had intended to be a mark of shame, had been transformed. On Ellery' s tall, slender frame, the ragged, high-slit gown looked less like a disaster and more like a piece of avant-garde fashion. It was daring, provocative, and utterly captivating. Whispers erupted through the room.

"Who is that?"

"That' s Dawson Parks' s secretary... My God, look at her."

"That dress... she' s pulling it off."

Dawson, who had been laughing with a business partner, turned to see what had captured everyone' s attention. His smile froze. His eyes locked on Ellery, and his expression darkened, a storm of anger and something else-something that looked alarmingly like desire-brewing in their depths.

Kenzie' s face, which had been glowing with triumph, turned to a mask of ugly, contorted fury. She marched over to Ellery, her voice a low, furious hiss.

"What did you do to my dress?"

"It was torn," Ellery replied calmly, her voice carrying in the sudden quiet. "I was simply making it presentable so as not to embarrass Mr. Parks."

Kenzie' s face flushed with ugly color. She was trapped. She couldn' t admit to tearing the dress herself, and Ellery' s logic was unassailable. She was cornered, and she hated it.

She quickly recovered, plastering a sweet smile on her face and linking her arm through Dawson' s.

"Darling, we should go say hello to the board members."

Dawson, his eyes still fixed on Ellery, frowned. "Kenzie, you know you' re not supposed to drink with your medication."

"Oh, I won' t," Kenzie said, her smile turning predatory as she looked at Ellery. "That' s what we have Ellery for, isn' t it? She can drink for me."

It was a direct challenge, a public assertion of dominance.

Dawson hesitated for only a second. The politics of the evening were important. He needed to make a good impression.

"Ellery," he said, his voice tight. "You heard her. Stay with us."

It was an order.

For the next hour, Kenzie deliberately led Dawson from table to table, a conquering queen showing off her prize. At each stop, she would raise her glass with a dazzling smile.

"To the Parks Corporation!"

And then she would turn to Ellery. "Ellery, won' t you do the honors for me?"

One glass of champagne. Then another. Then a glass of red wine. Then a shot of whiskey with a boisterous oil tycoon. Ellery drank them all, her face a mask of professional composure. The alcohol burned a path down her throat, and her stomach, which she hadn't eaten on due to a lifelong, severe alcohol allergy, began to churn violently.

Soon, the room began to spin. She excused herself, her steps unsteady, and rushed to the restroom. She barely made it to a stall before she was violently ill, her body wracked with painful heaves. She coughed, and a spray of blood and bile splattered against the white porcelain.

She gripped the sides of the toilet, her knuckles white. She looked at her reflection in the polished marble wall. Her face was a ghastly, waxy white, her lips tinged with blue.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Kenzie.

Where are you? Get back out here. People are waiting.

Ellery' s hands were shaking as she fumbled in her clutch for the anti-allergy pills she always carried. She dry-swallowed two, the bitter taste coating her tongue. She took a deep breath, splashed cold water on her face, and forced herself to walk back into the glittering ballroom.

By the end of the night, she could barely stand. The world was a nauseating, blurry mess. Through the haze, she saw Kenzie leaning against Dawson, her expression affected and smug.

Dawson was stroking her hair, whispering something that made her giggle. He looked up and saw Ellery, and for a moment, a flicker of concern crossed his face.

"Kenzie, why don' t you go wait in the car? I' ll be right there."

As Kenzie walked away, Ellery leaned against a column for support, her stomach twisting in a fresh wave of agony. The hotel lobby tilted violently.

Kenzie, however, didn' t go to the car. She came back and linked her arm through Ellery' s, her grip surprisingly strong.

"Let' s go together," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

The elevator doors closed, and they were alone.

The transformation was instantaneous. Kenzie' s sweet smile vanished, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

CRACK.

The sound of her hand connecting with Ellery' s cheek echoed in the small space.

"You bitch," Kenzie spat, her voice a venomous whisper. "You think you' re so clever, turning my plan back on me? You just had to steal the spotlight, didn' t you?"

Ellery, weak and dizzy, was too stunned to react. But a lifetime of suppressed rage, fueled by alcohol and humiliation, suddenly surged.

She raised her hand and slapped Kenzie back, harder.

"You' re the one who wanted to switch," Ellery said, her voice trembling but cold.

Kenzie stared, her hand flying to her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You hit me? You' re nothing but a dog he keeps on a leash!"

"It' s after 5 PM," Ellery said, her voice dangerously quiet. "I' m off the clock. And you have no right to speak to me that way."

Kenzie' s face contorted with rage. She opened her mouth to scream, but at that exact moment, the elevator jolted violently. The lights flickered and died, plunging them into absolute, terrifying darkness.

The elevator shuddered, then stopped.

Kenzie let out a piercing shriek and clawed at Ellery in the dark.

"What' s happening?!"

Ellery' s own heart was pounding. She had a crippling case of claustrophobia, a secret no one, not even Dawson, knew. The walls felt like they were closing in. The air grew thick and heavy. She fought down the rising panic and fumbled for the emergency button, her training kicking in.

She pressed it. Nothing but static crackled from the speaker.

Kenzie was already on her phone, her voice a hysterical, sobbing mess.

"Dawson! The elevator is stuck! I' m scared! Help me!"

Ellery leaned against the cool metal wall, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Black spots danced in her vision. The lack of air, the claustrophobia, the alcohol... it was all crashing down on her at once.

She heard shouting from outside. Dawson' s voice, sharp and panicked.

"Kenzie! Are you okay?"

"Dawson, get me out of here!" she sobbed.

Then, a new voice, a maintenance worker. "Sir, the main cable is frayed. The emergency brake is holding, but it' s not stable. We can only get one of you out at a time before we risk it snapping."

A beat of silence.

"Who do you want us to save first, Mr. Parks?"