A Night of Revelations
Abigail stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the deep-red gown that hugged her figure perfectly. The fabric shimmered subtly under the soft bedroom light, cascading down to the floor in elegant waves. The gown's sweetheart neckline framed her delicate collarbones, and her long wavy hair fell over her shoulders, styled to perfection. Her makeup was subtle yet striking, with red lips that matched her dress and enhanced her radiant beauty.
She turned slightly, examining her reflection. Despite her stunning appearance, there was an unease in her chest—a lingering doubt about the evening ahead. Thomas Marc, the enigmatic A-list celebrity who had become an unlikely ally, had invited her to celebrate the downfall of her enemies. The very thought stirred a mix of emotions.
As she picked up her phone to leave, a cautious thought struck her. She opened her settings and turned on her location sharing, sending it to Ed. Just in case, she thought to herself, gripping her clutch tightly. She still wasn't sure about her feelings for Thomas, and tonight felt… unpredictable.
The hotel was one of the most luxurious in the city, a towering structure of gleaming glass and gold accents. The valet greeted her warmly as she stepped out of the car, and the opulent lobby shimmered with chandeliers and polished marble floors. Abigail was escorted to the private VIP bar on the top floor, where Thomas had arranged for complete privacy.
When she entered, her breath caught. The space was lavish yet intimate, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city lights. A plush velvet couch and chairs surrounded a low glass table, already set with an assortment of expensive wines and crystal glasses. Thomas was waiting for her, impeccably dressed in a tailored navy suit that exuded charm and confidence.
"You're stunning," he said as he rose to greet her, his piercing gaze lingering on her as she walked toward him.
"Thank you," Abigail replied softly, taking the seat he offered.
He poured her a glass of an aged Bordeaux, the deep red liquid shimmering in the light. "To you, Abigail," he said, raising his glass. "For standing tall and proving your worth."
They clinked glasses, and for the first time in weeks, Abigail allowed herself to laugh and enjoy the moment. They talked about everything—her journey, her dreams, the downfall of Ace and Gia. Thomas had a knack for making her feel heard, and his quick wit and charm kept her laughing.
But even in the warmth of their laughter, a pang of caution remained.
Hours passed, and Abigail realized she had drunk far more than she intended. Her head felt light, and her words came slower as the alcohol loosened her thoughts. Her laughter turned quieter, her smile fading as old memories crept into her mind.
Thomas noticed the shift. "Are you alright?" he asked, leaning closer, his tone soft with concern.
Abigail looked down at her glass, swirling the wine absently. "I don't know," she murmured. "I thought I'd feel better after everything. After Ace's lies were exposed, after the world saw the truth… But I don't. I feel… empty."
Her voice cracked as tears welled in her eyes. "How can anyone love? How can you trust it, when people like Ace exist? He said he loved me. He said he'd always be there, and instead, he broke me." She looked at Thomas, her gaze unsteady but piercing. "Do you really think love is real?"
Thomas placed a hand over hers, his voice earnest. "Yes, Abigail. Love is real. And if anyone deserves to find it, it's you."
She shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. "Thomas… I can't give you what you're looking for. I can't love you. Not now. My heart's still in pieces, and I need to heal." Her words came out bluntly, but her tone was honest. "We should just be friends."
Thomas's face fell for a moment, but he nodded, masking his disappointment with a faint smile. "I understand," he said softly.
Meanwhile, Ed was at home, pacing the floor with his phone in hand. He had called Abigail countless times, but each call went to voicemail. His chest tightened with worry as he stared at the location she had sent earlier. The name of the hotel set alarm bells ringing in his mind. Without another thought, he grabbed his keys and headed out.
Back at the hotel, Thomas looked at the time. It was nearing midnight, and Abigail was visibly tired and unsteady. "You should stay the night," he said, his tone kind but firm. "You've had too much to drink, and it's not safe for you to leave. The paparazzi will be circling like vultures."
Abigail hesitated, her head swimming with alcohol and memories. "Maybe… maybe you're right," she mumbled, her words slurring slightly.
Thomas guided her to a chair and handed her a bottle of water. "You'll feel better in the morning," he assured her.
But before anything else could be said, the door to the VIP lounge burst open, and Ed stormed in. His eyes scanned the room, locking on Abigail, who sat on the floor, clutching her knees and crying softly.
"Abigail," Ed said, his voice filled with concern as he rushed to her side.
Abigail looked up, her tear-streaked face breaking into a weak smile. "Ed…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"What's going on here?" Ed demanded, turning to Thomas, his tone sharp.
Thomas crossed his arms, his expression guarded. "She's staying here because she's drunk, and it's late. I was looking out for her."
"She's not staying with you," Ed said firmly, his eyes blazing.
"And who are you to decide?" Thomas shot back, his tone turning icy. "I don't know who you are."
Abigail interrupted, her voice shaky but clear. "He's my boyfriend."
The room fell silent as her words hung in the air. Thomas's jaw clenched, his disappointment palpable, but he said nothing.
Ed helped Abigail to her feet, wrapping an arm around her for support. "Let's get you home," he said gently.
As they walked toward the door, Thomas called after them. "You'd better take care of her," he said, his tone tinged with bitterness.
Ed didn't respond, guiding Abigail out of the room and into the night.
In the car, Abigail leaned against Ed, her exhaustion catching up with her. "Thank you," she murmured. "For coming to get me."
Ed's grip on the wheel tightened. "I'll always come for you, Abigail," he said softly.