Claire sat by the bar, staring at the drinks in display but her mind was elsewhere. She badly wanted to leave this place, seeing as she had already created enough scandal by falling into Leon's arms.
Just then, Aaron appeared at her side. "You're doing well," he murmured, handing her a glass of champagne.
Claire hesitated, studying the drink. "You're not joining me?"
His lips curved into a lazy smile. "I never drink at events like these. Too many things to manage."
The glass felt heavier in her hand. "You trust me to drink this?" she asked, her voice half-joking, though her unease seeped into the question.
Aaron's expression didn't falter. If anything, his amusement deepened. "You don't trust me?"
Claire forced a small laugh, how could she trust him. Her fingers tightened around the stem of the glass. She sipped cautiously, the cool liquid sliding down her throat. It tasted fine, light and refreshing. Still, an odd sense of apprehension prickled at her.
"Well, that wasn't the grand entrance I'd hoped for," he said, his tone light but his eyes sharp, referring to her earlier fall.
"I'm trying," Claire muttered, her voice tinged with frustration.
Aaron's hand brushed her arm, his touch cold. "Don't worry, sweetie. Sometimes, all it takes is a little nudge to get things moving."
She frowned at his choice of words, but before she could respond, a strange heaviness began to settle over her. The room felt warmer, the edges of the world blurring slightly.
Claire found herself in the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face in an attempt to clear her head. The champagne—she hadn't even finished it. Could she have been this overwhelmed by one drink?
She leaned against the sink, her thoughts muddled. Aaron's face flashed in her mind, his casual demeanor and the way he had handed her the glass.
Something wasn't right.
A knock at the door startled her. She turned to find Aaron waiting, his expression neutral but watchful.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, his voice deceptively gentle.
Claire blinked at him, her body feeling heavier by the second. "I think I need some air," she said, her words slurring slightly.
Aaron's hand found her elbow, guiding her with practiced ease. "Of course. Let me help you."
The world around her blurred further as Aaron led her out of the room. Voices, lights, and music became distant, fading into a haze as darkness swallowed her whole.
---
Claire woke up with a throbbing headache pounding her skull, the unfamiliar weight of silk sheets against her skin. Morning light seeped through heavy curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden hue. She blinked, disoriented.
This wasn't her room.
The realization hit like a jolt of electricity, making her sit up abruptly. Her breath caught as she took in the sight of the man lying beside her, his face partially obscured by tousled hair. Leon Yu.
Panic tightened her chest as memories from the gala resurfaced—polished marble floors, soft music, and a brief but charged moment when Leon had saved her from a fall. Aaron gave her a drink. After that? Nothing but a blur. How had she ended up here?
As if sensing her turmoil, Leon stirred. His dark lashes fluttered open, revealing icy grey eyes that locked onto hers. For a fleeting moment, surprise flickered in his gaze, quickly replaced by cold calculation.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low and edged with steel.
Claire clutched the sheet to her chest, her pulse racing. "I—I don't know," she stammered.
Leon sat up, his piercing gaze sweeping the room with precision. "You don't know?"
"No," she said, swallowing hard. "I don't remember how I got here."
His jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The room crackled with tension.
Before either of them could say more, the buzz of a phone broke the silence. Leon grabbed the phone from the nightstand, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the screen.
"What is it?" Claire asked hesitantly, noticing the shift in his expression.
Wordlessly, Leon turned the phone toward her. Claire's stomach dropped as she saw the images on the screen: her and Leon, lying in bed together, clearly taken in this very room. There were also ambiguous shots of her fall from the gala.
"Care to explain this?" Leon's tone was sharp, his gaze drilling into her.
Her throat went dry. She hadn't anticipated this. Aaron had promised her a minor scandal—something easily forgettable. But this?
"I… I don't know," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Leon let out a bitter laugh, devoid of humor. "You don't know? Convenient." He stood, his imposing frame radiating restrained fury.
Claire's eyes darted to the photos again, dread pooling in her stomach. They were still clothed, but that didn't matter. The narrative was clear, and the implications were damning.
Leon's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. "The media is going to feast on this," he muttered, more to himself than to her.
"Leon, please. I don't know how this happened," she said, her voice pleading but firm.
His gaze snapped to hers, cold and unyielding. "Whether you know or not doesn't change what's been done."
A knock at the door broke the tension.
"Mr. Yu, your driver is waiting," came a muffled voice from the hallway.
Leon didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned to Claire, his expression unreadable but brimming with warning. "If this is a setup, you'll regret it."
With that, he grabbed his jacket and left without another word, leaving Claire alone with the suffocating weight of Aaron's betrayal.
---
Back at her cramped apartment, Claire paced the floor, her thoughts a whirlwind of anger and guilt. She couldn't shake the image of Leon's icy glare—or the photos. Aaron had promised her control, but now she felt like a puppet, every string pulled by his scheming hands.
Her phone buzzed, and she snatched it up, Aaron's name flashing on the screen.
"What did you do?" she demanded, skipping pleasantries.
Aaron's chuckle on the other end was light, almost amused. "Good morning to you too, Claire."
"Don't play coy," she snapped. "You drugged me, didn't you?"
"That's a bold accusation," he said smoothly. "I simply provided the circumstances. You're the one who ended up in Leon's bed."
Her grip tightened on the phone. "This wasn't the plan, Aaron. You said a minor scandal—something fixable. And I thought I'd done that when I fell and he caught me. But this? Photos? You drugged us!"
"Did I?" he asked, his tone teasing and infuriatingly calm. "Or are you just looking for someone to blame?"
Claire's jaw clenched. "You think this is a game?"
Aaron's voice dropped, cold and measured. "No, Claire. It's strategy. The photos ensure the right pressure points are hit. My brother doesn't care about what people think. But my father does, and he'll use these pictures to corner him"
"You're using me," she hissed.
"Don't forget who you're talking to," Aaron said, his voice sharp but composed. "I'm the one paying for your mother's care. If you want her to stay in that VIP ward, you'll follow through. This little... complication will work in your favor. You just need to play your part."
Claire bit her lip, fighting back tears of frustration. "I won't lie for you again."
Aaron laughed softly. "You won't have to. The truth doesn't matter anymore. The stage has already been set, and Leon will have no choice but to play along."
Before she could respond, the line went dead, leaving her staring at the screen, seething.