The VIP booth's ultraviolet lights exposed every flaw in Kong Zhener's knockoff designer blouse. She traced the peeling "Chanel" logo while Xiaodie's authentic crocodile Birkin dominated the table like a golden calf. Drunkenness blurred the edges of reality - stolen sips of Xiaodie's Dom Pérignon '96 bubbled acid resentment in her gut.
"Another round!" Xiaodie's diamond cluster flashed like prison searchlights. "Put it on Su Xi's tab."
Zhener's nervous giggle dissolved into coughs as cigar smoke stung her lungs. She studied Luna through mascara-clumped lashes - this peasant-turned-princess calmly dissecting lobster canapés while men's gazes licked her silhouette. How dare she wear silence like couture?
The universe answered her bitterness with Xavier Su's arrival.
"Looking for Cinderella?" Zhener's wine-addled tongue betrayed her. She gestured toward empty seats with a sloshing glass. "The mice have fled the trap."
Xavier's Armani leather jacket creaked as he settled beside her. Up close, his cologne reeked of bergamot and boardroom bloodsport. Zhener's pulse hammered against her knockoff Cartier love bracelet as she poured his drink - a '45 Lafite stolen from Xiaodie's reserve.
"Careful," he murmured, catching her trembling wrist. "Spillages require... recompense."
The floor tilted. Zhener's stiletto snapped on a caviar-smeared napkin. For one glorious second, her body molded against hard muscle before crashing onto the booth's crocodile upholstery. Xavier's smirk froze as bathroom doors slammed.
Xiaodie's rage arrived in waves - cloying Santal 33 perfume preceding the storm. "You gutter rat!" Lacquered nails ripped Zhener's blouse. "I clothed you! Fed you! This is your gratitude?"
The crowd coagulated like vultures. Phone flashes immortalized Zhener's humiliation - sequined bra strap snapping, stretch marks exposed under strobe lights. A stranger's fingers pinched her thigh flesh. "How much for the hour, sweetheart?"
Salvation smelled of vetiver and regret. Richard's Burberry trench settled over her shivering form. "Miss Kong." His banker's voice sliced through the jeers. "Shall we discuss your sister's medical bills?"
In the sudden silence, Zhener glimpsed Luna's retreating silhouette - a ghost slipping through service exits while Rome burned.
Smoke-laden air clung to Zhener's torn blouse as Richard's umbrella shielded her from paparazzi flashes. The hotel's service elevator swallowed them whole, its brass panels reflecting her ruined mascara in warped funhouse mirrors.
"Suite 1701." His monogrammed handkerchief blotted blood from her split lip. "There's Dior in the closet."
The presidential suite's doors parted on silent hinges. Zhener's stolen stiletto sank into woolen carpets thicker than Xiaodie's conscience. Through floor-to-ceiling windows, the city spread like a glittering circuit board - each light representing someone richer, crueler, more hollow.
The shower's rainforest head sluiced away Black Diamond's stench. Steam curled around Zhener's bruises as she inventoried marble surfaces - his abandoned cufflinks, half-empty Scotch decanter, the leather-bound ledger left carelessly open.
"Miss Kong?" The secretary's knock startled. A garment bag materialized on brocade settees. Inside, crimson silk whispered promises Zhener couldn't yet name.
Midnight's third chime found Richard slumped against lacquered screens. Ice melted forgotten in his tumbler as moonlight caressed the photograph's worn edges - Lin Shuiyao's laughter preserved behind cracked laminate. Medical journals fanned across the bedspread formed a brittle archipelago between them.
"Yao..." The endearment dissolved in single malt. His signet ring caught the light as trembling fingers brushed damp tendrils from Zhener's face. "You've come home."
The kiss tasted of regret and Macallan 25. Zhener's protest died beneath centuries-old ancestral pearls digging into her collarbone. Somewhere beyond the humidor's sweet cedar, the photograph slipped soundlessly to carpeted floors.
Luna's stilettos sank into casino plush as Xavier's grip steered her past baccarat tables. Cigar smoke coalesced into familiar silhouettes - Caleb's profile sharp between twin constellations of sequined flesh.
"Observe the patron saint of false promises," Xavier breathed against her nape. "How quickly he replaces you."
The scene unfolded through crystal decanter distortions - Xander's arm slung around a champagne bucket, Jaden's spectacles flashing as he palmed cards. Caleb's laugh cut glass-sharp through the tableau, his fingers tracing a blonde's spine with clinical precision.
Luna's bodice constricted. Oxygen became casino-grade commodity.
"Another round!" Xander's shout carried over roulette wheels. The blonde's manicured hand disappeared beneath Caleb's waistcoat.
Their eyes met through veiled cigarette haze. His smile chilled.
"Service girl!" The manager's jab between her shoulder blades propelled Luna forward. Crystal tumblers clinked like funeral bells on her tray.
Jaden's card shuffle stilled. Xander's grin turned feral. "Brother dearest! Your blushing bride delivers libations!"
Caleb's Rolex glinted as he checked imaginary time. "How... domestic." His knuckle brushed her stockinged calf reaching for spilled ice. "Does grandmother know you play waitress?"
The blonde's laughter peeled wallpaper. Luna's composure hung by silk threads.
Xavier's hand found the small of her back, warm and claiming. "Shall we demonstrate proper dancing, darling?"
Across the felt battlefield, Caleb's cards folded beneath whitened knuckles. The dealer's "Bust" declaration drowned in slot machine screams.