Clifford Sterling's penthouse was the epitome of sophistication that evening. The grand double doors opened to reveal an opulent space, shimmering with the golden glow of chandeliers. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city's skyline, a dazzling backdrop for the night's festivities. Business elites, celebrities, and rising stars mingled effortlessly, their laughter and conversations underscored by the soft hum of live jazz.
Shelly Winslow stepped inside, feeling both awed and uneasy. Her black cocktail dress, sleek and understated, accentuated her natural elegance, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. Clifford had extended the invitation to everyone in her department, but it was clear that this event was more than a casual gathering. It was a showcase of power, charm, and influence—a world Shelly wasn't sure she wanted to belong to.
Chelsea and Phoebe flanked her like bookends, their chatter filled with excitement. Chelsea, in a fiery red dress, scanned the room with predatory eyes. "This is our chance to mingle with the big leagues, Shelly. You've got to stop holding back."
Phoebe, already on her second glass of champagne, nodded vigorously. "Yeah, Shelly. Loosen up. This is a celebration, not a board meeting."
Shelly forced a smile, but her stomach churned. Shawn's words from their recent argument lingered in her mind: "You're letting them use you, Shelly. They're not your friends." She had dismissed him then, defensive and irritated, but now, she couldn't ignore the nagging doubt creeping in.
Clifford was in his element, gliding through the crowd with effortless charisma. His tailored midnight-blue suit emphasized his commanding presence, and his every gesture exuded confidence. When he spotted Shelly by the bar, a subtle smile played on his lips. He approached, his steps deliberate, drawing the attention of onlookers as though the room acknowledged his gravitation toward her.
"Miss Winslow," he greeted, his voice smooth. "I'm glad you could make it."
"Thank you for the invitation," Shelly replied, polite but guarded. "It's quite the event."
"Only the best for my team," he said, his gaze lingering on her. "I hope you'll enjoy yourself tonight. Let me know if there's anything you need."
Before she could respond, Chelsea swooped in, her red dress a sharp contrast to the refined palette of the room. "Clifford," she cooed, placing a hand on his arm. "This party is stunning. You know how to throw an event."
Clifford's smile didn't falter, but his eyes flicked to Shelly. "Excuse me, ladies. Duty calls." With that, he slipped away, leaving Chelsea visibly deflated.
"Ugh, he's so hard to read," Chelsea muttered, tossing back her drink. "I don't know what he sees in you, Shelly."
Shelly's jaw tightened, but she stayed silent. Phoebe, sensing the tension, giggled nervously and motioned toward the dance floor. "Let's dance! Come on, Shelly. You need to have some fun."
Hours later, the party reached its peak. The music grew livelier, and the guests, emboldened by alcohol, became more uninhibited. Shelly discovered herself at a high table with Chelsea and Phoebe, who were now loudly gossiping about other attendees.
"Look at her dress," Chelsea sneered, pointing at a woman across the room. "Trying way too hard."
Phoebe snorted. "And failing miserably."
Shelly shifted uncomfortably. Their behavior felt increasingly juvenile and cruel, especially in a professional setting. She scanned the room, her eyes landing on Clifford, who was deep in conversation with a group of executives. He glanced her way and gave a brief, reassuring nod. It was a small gesture, but it steadied her.
"Let's get another round," Chelsea declared, dragging Shelly to the bar despite her protests. As they waited for their drinks, Chelsea spotted a senior executive from Sterling Enterprises and leaned in close to Shelly.
"Here's your chance," Chelsea whispered, her tone conspiratorial. "Go over there and charm him. A little networking never hurt anyone."
Shelly frowned. "I'm not comfortable with that."
"Don't be so uptight," Chelsea hissed. "Do you want to get ahead or not?"
Phoebe giggled, adding, "Come on, Shelly. He's harmless."
Before Shelly could respond, Chelsea grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the executive. The man turned, surprised but polite, as Chelsea introduced Shelly with exaggerated enthusiasm. Shelly's cheeks burned with embarrassment as she stumbled through the forced interaction, feeling like a pawn in Chelsea's game.
The breaking point came later in the evening. Chelsea and Phoebe, emboldened by too much champagne, decided it would be "funny" to drag Shelly into the spotlight. They convinced the DJ to make an announcement, drawing everyone's attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the DJ's voice boomed. "Let's hear it for Shelly Winslow, the rising star of Sterling Enterprises!"
A spotlight hit Shelly, and she froze. The crowd erupted into applause, but Shelly could see the amusement on Chelsea's face and hear Phoebe's barely stifled laughter. It wasn't a gesture of support—it was a cruel joke, a way to humiliate her.
Clifford stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He approached the DJ and said something quietly, and the music resumed. The crowd's attention shifted, and the moment passed, but Shelly's humiliation lingered.
Later, as the party wound down, Shelly found herself alone on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome reprieve. She stared out at the city lights, her mind racing. Shawn's words echoed again: "They're not your friends."
"Tough night?"
She turned to see Clifford, his tie loosened and his usual polished demeanor softened. He held out a glass of water, which she accepted gratefully.
"You didn't have to do that earlier," she said quietly. "But thank you."
"It was nothing," he replied, leaning against the railing. "Though I have to ask… why do you keep them around?"
Shelly's grip tightened on the glass. "I don't know. Maybe I've known them too long. Maybe I don't want to admit I've outgrown them."
Clifford nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "It's hard to let go of people, even when you know they're holding you back."
They stood in silence for a moment, the distant sounds of the party fading into the background. For the first time that night, Shelly felt a sense of clarity. Shawn's warnings, Clifford's intervention, and her own instincts all pointed to the same conclusion: it was time to reevaluate who she allowed in her life.
As she turned to go, Clifford's voice stopped her. "Shelly?"
She glanced back.
"You deserve better than what they're giving you. Don't forget that."
His words lingered as she walked back inside, her mind set on confronting the truth she had been avoiding for far too long.