In their eyes, humanity divided into two neat categories: those with use-value, and those without.
Sara belonged to the latter. On the few occasions she'd encountered them, she'd been treated like air—or worse.
But since Adrian rarely brought her into his social sphere, she couldn't very well spoil the mood.
Forty minutes later, the car pulled up to a private club so grand it bordered on obscene.
To the wealthy, this was merely a spot for leisure. To ordinary people, a single bottle of liquor inside cost more than a year's salary.
The manager was already waiting at the entrance, having heard Adrian was arriving. He ushered them in with a reverence usually reserved for descending royalty.
The private room was packed.
Sean Whitney, the organizer, approached first.
Sara knew Sean. His family owned a bank—so poor they had nothing left but money. Aside from a decent face, he possessed neither character nor intellect.
He and Adrian were polar opposites. The phrase "spoiled rich kid" might as well have been tattooed across Sean's forehead.
Despite his young age, the women around him rotated like a revolving door. A different face on his arm every day wasn't an exaggeration—it was an understatement.
He'd occasionally tried to shove women onto Adrian, so Sara held no goodwill toward him.
The feeling was clearly mutual.
Seeing her, Sean's eyebrows shot up.
Sara understood why immediately.
Eva James was there.
Her gaze snapped to Adrian.
He'd been kept in the dark too. His eyes narrowed, a look of cold displeasure cutting toward the mastermind.
Being set up was what Adrian hated most.
Sensing the temperature plummet, Sean scrambled forward. "She showed up last minute. I didn't know beforehand, I swear. Couldn't exactly kick her out. Just turn a blind eye—pretend she's not here."
The instant Adrian looked over, Eva looked back.
Their eyes met.
Sara's heart seized.
"Adrian, thank you for helping me last time. I caused you trouble."
Eva moved closer, taking the initiative, staring at him as if the rest of the room had dissolved into mist.
Adrian's response was ice. "If you knew it was trouble, Ms. James, you shouldn't have contacted me."
That same rigid barrier. Keeping strangers at arm's length.
*So it still hasn't been settled.*
*She rushed over to show off to me—probably because she feels insecure.*