The Drowned Anchor was a haven from the storm outside, its dimly lit interior a stark contrast to the rain-lashed streets of New Arcadia. Ella stumbled to an empty stool at the bar, her wet hair plastered to her face, mascara streaking her cheeks. The bartender, a burly man with a kind smile, slid a napkin her way.
"Rough night?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
Ella nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.
"What'll it be?"
"Strongest thing you've got," she croaked.
The bartender raised an eyebrow but didn't question her. Moments later, a tumbler filled with amber liquid appeared before her. Ella downed it in one gulp, the burn a welcome distraction from the ache in her chest.
One drink turned into two, then three. The world around her blurred, the sounds of the bar receding into a distant hum. Ella's mind replayed the scene in her apartment, the images of betrayal flashing before her eyes like a macabre slideshow. Daniel's triumphant laughter, Amelia's venomous smirk - they echoed in her ears, fueling her growing anger and despair.
"Another?" the bartender asked, concern etched on his face.
Ella nodded, her vision swimming. She fumbled for her wallet, but the bartender waved her off.
"On the house," he said gruffly. "Just... take it easy, alright?"
Ella didn't respond. She cradled the glass in her hands, the warmth seeping into her chilled fingers. The alcohol dulled the edges of her pain, but it couldn't erase the memories. Each sip was a futile attempt to drown the sorrow, to numb the betrayal.
As the drinks flowed, Ella's inhibitions dissolved. She found herself pouring out her woes to the bartender, her words slurring slightly as she recounted the events of the evening.
"He... he left me," she hiccuped, tears streaming down her face. "For my best friend. After everything I did for him..."
The bartender listened patiently, nodding sympathetically. "That's rough, kid. Real rough."
"And now he's got millions," Ella continued, her voice rising in pitch. "Millions! From that... that Stone guy. Like it's all so easy for them. While I'm stuck here, barely scraping by..."
The bartender's brow furrowed. "Stone? You mean Damien Stone?"
Ella nodded vigorously. "Yeah, him. The big shot. The one who funded Daniel's betrayal."
The bartender fell silent, a flicker of unease crossing his face. He'd heard whispers about Damien Stone, the ruthless billionaire who ruled New Arcadia with an iron fist. He wasn't someone you wanted to cross.
Hours passed in a haze of amber-colored oblivion. The bar thinned out, the revelers replaced by a handful of regulars nursing their drinks in quiet contemplation. Ella remained perched on her stool, her head heavy, her heart even heavier. The bartender kept a watchful eye on her, his concern growing with each passing minute.
Suddenly, the bartender's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting from concern to alarm.
"Gotta close up early, folks," he announced, his voice carrying an unusual urgency. "Sorry for the inconvenience."
The remaining patrons grumbled but complied, leaving Ella alone at the bar. The bartender approached her, his brow furrowed.
"Miss, I hate to do this, but we're closing. You need to head home."
Ella blinked, her vision swimming. "Home?" she echoed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "I don't have a home anymore."
The bartender sighed. "Look, I can't let you stay here. It's against the rules."
Ella swayed on her stool, the room tilting around her. "Please," she slurred, her voice thick with tears. "Just a little longer..."
Before the bartender could respond, his phone buzzed again. He answered it, his face paling. Ella's ears, despite the alcohol-induced fog, caught snippets of the conversation.
"...Mr. Stone... Yes, sir... Right away, sir."
The bartender hung up, his gaze returning to Ella, now laced with a hint of fear. "I'm truly sorry, miss, but you have to leave. Now."
Ella's drunken mind struggled to process the information. Stone? As in Damien Stone? The man who had funded her ex-boyfriend's betrayal? Anger flared within her, fueled by the alcohol and her shattered heart.
She lurched off the stool, nearly toppling over, and pointed an accusing finger at the bartender. "It's your fault!" she slurred, her voice rising. "You and your fancy clientele! You gave him the money! You enabled him to cheat on me!"
The bartender recoiled, taken aback by her sudden outburst. "Miss, I don't know what you're talking about..."
"You knew!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the now-empty bar. "You all knew he was using me! You let him take advantage of me, just because he's got money and connections!"
Ella grabbed her half-finished drink and flung it at him, the liquid splattering across his chest.
Her vision tunneled, the room spinning faster. She stumbled backward, her legs giving way. Just as she was about to hit the floor, a pair of strong arms caught her.
Ella blinked, her gaze focusing on the man who held her. Tall, dark, and impossibly handsome, he looked like he'd stepped out of a dream – or perhaps a nightmare. His piercing silver eyes bore into hers, his expression a mask of cool indifference.
"Damien Stone," she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper.
He didn't respond, merely tightened his grip on her.
The bartender hurried over, his voice hushed. "Mr. Stone, I apologize for the inconvenience. We're closing up now."
Damien Stone nodded, his eyes never leaving Ella's face. "Is she alright?"
The bartender hesitated. "She's had a bit too much to drink, sir. We were just about to send her home in a cab."
Damien's lips curled into a faint smile. "Cancel the cab," he said, his voice a low command. "I'll take care of her."
He lifted Ella effortlessly, her head lolling against his chest. The bartender watched them go, a mixture of awe and trepidation in his eyes.
As Damien carried her out into the rain, Ella felt a strange sense of peace wash over her. The world was still spinning, but she was no longer alone in the storm. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the darkness, the last thought echoing in her mind: Damien Stone. My ex-boyfriend's benefactor. And now, my savior?