Clara
Pushing open the massive wooden doors, I step out into the night. The cool breeze is a breath of fresh air from the stuffy warmth of the crowded venue. The sound of music and laughter fades slightly as I move down the stairs towards the gardens. The hedges stretched out before me, illuminated by the soft light of the lanterns. As I stood next to a tree, I could see more guests arriving in the driveway.
Taking a deep breath, I finally answer my phone that has been ringing nonstop.
"Hello?" I answer, trying to hide the frustration in my voice.
"Where have you been?!" Sophia demanded. "I've been trying to reach you for, like, 30 minutes! I've called you five times already and even texted you."
"Sorry, Soph. I was just really busy with the party. I didn't mean to ignore you." This is the conversation I've been trying to avoid all day. My eyes scan the guests, mind racing with thoughts of who was who and how I needed to make an appearance. I spot a group of my father's business associates and a few of my mother's friends.
"Busy with the party? I needed to talk to you, and you were too busy having fun to even answer my calls," Sophia says, angrily.
"Sorry, can we talk now? I'm all yours," I say, trying to placate her.
A middle-aged couple, dressed to the nines, emerged from a nearby limousine. They wave to me, and I return the gesture.
"Yeah, let's talk. Did you ask your dad if I can come too?"
"Uh, well... my dad made the guest list. There's nothing I can do," I say, avoiding the truth. Why can't she understand? I admit it is a bit unfair for her since she's my best friend, but she knows very well that this is not just my party; it's another one of Dad's formal events. I did ask him if she could come, and if he didn't agree, how is that MY fault?
"What do you mean he made the guest list? Can't you just ask him to make an exception? Isn't it your party?" Sophia pressed. She can be annoyingly persistent and clingy sometimes.
"I tried, Soph, really. But my dad's very strict about these things. You know that, right?" I say, trying to brush it off. To be precise, Dad doesn't want anyone who is 'beneath us.' That's why when he said no to Sophia, I didn't insist. Not because I agree with him but because I dare not go against his orders.
She sighs, finally giving in at last.
"Sorry, I really have to go. My dad needs me. And please...don't call me again." Before she can say anything, I hang up the phone, eager to end the conversation and get back inside. I do a quick check on my appearance. As I adjust the dress around my waist, the dark fabric shimmers like the night sky on a clear summer evening, while the pattern of constellations on it sparkles like diamonds. I run a hand over my hair, which is styled in loose waves, and walk back to the venue.
The music and voices envelop me once again. As I step into the bright hall, the grandeur of this place reminds me of my family's influence and the lengths they will go to maintain their reputation. Every detail, from the crystal chandeliers to the marble floor, screams luxury and refinement. As I scan the room, I'm struck by the sheer number of people who are here to curry favor with us. The social climbers, the business associates-they're all here. And I know that I'm a part of this world, whether I like it or not. Their reputation is mine to uphold, and I'll be expected to play my role to perfection.
As the granddaughter of Chairman Margaret Austin of Cirrus Inc., I am no stranger to high-society events like this one. Having grown up attending lavish parties, I know how to work the room with ease. I exchange air kisses with acquaintances, shake hands with business associates, and laugh at unfunny jokes, all while maintaining a poised and confident demeanor.
As I greet the guests, my eyes fall on a lone boy in a black suit sitting near the buffet table. I recognize him instantly, as his ridiculous, enigmatic aura can be felt from miles away. He's staring down at his phone; dark strands cover the sides of his forehead as the blue light reflects on his glasses. He looks like someone who thinks he's far too important to be here, as if he has something better to do, which is absurd. Because, as far as I know, his schedule is as empty as his personality. Well...regardless of the fact he works as a freelancer and pianist.
I want to avoid him. But I've been trained to be polite, to make sure everyone feels welcome at my party. Even if they don't deserve it. Even if they clearly dislike me for some reason, which doesn't bother me because the feeling is mutual.
I stroll over to him, my smile all sweetness, the kind I'm so accustomed to wearing. "Bored already, are we, kind sir?" I ask, lightly teasing.
He doesn't turn to look at me, but I can see his brows knit and his grip tighten on the glass of soda as he brings it to his lips to take a long sip. All so he doesn't have to respond.
Talk about immature.
I tilt my head at him, refusing to give up. "You know, you could at least pretend to enjoy yourself. Maybe even-gasp-talk to someone?"
He sets the glass down. "Maybe I just don't find fake pleasantries that interesting."
I press my lips together, reminding myself to be patient. To be nice. I sit down next to him, leaning back in my chair. "I didn't expect to see you here, Alister," I say, genuinely curious. Hopefully we can for once have a normal conversation without the insults.
But he ignores me and I simply end adding "Didn't think someone with your... high standards would waste time at one of these events." I didn't expect the VP of Apex Entertainment to be here with his family. Or Alister to even come here with them. Maybe it's due to their latest success with that new music video that's going viral?
"Just came for the free food." He shrugs. "Plus, it's better to be alone than surrounded by people pretending they give a damn."
Something about the way he says it, the sheer confidence in it, makes my patience slip just a fraction. "Still upset that I've been getting better grades than you in every test this semester?" I taunt, resting my chin in my palm. "I guess I'd be bitter too if someone else knocked me off my pedestal." Truth be told, I have never liked him. Someone needed to push him off his high horse. I don't know much about him except he's been in my bad books ever since he declared he should be the class president since he will get the best grades. Pretentious prick. Was I proud that I cheated and bribed in the midterms? No. But was it worth it seeing him frustrated and his ego bruised? Absolutely.
Of course, I wouldn't have hated him this much if him coming on top meant... I had to face the consequences.
Alister finally looks up at me, glaring like I expected him to. "You're still talking to me. That desperate to be liked, are you? So eager to impress? But no matter how much you try, It kills you when someone just doesn't care."
I clench my jaw for half a second before forcing out a dry laugh, tapping my nails against the table. "I don't know," I murmur with a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. I lean in closer, lowering my voice, "I'm more worried about you, actually. It must be exhausting, pretending like you don't need anyone. But I suppose that's easier than admitting no one actually wants you around."
A gasp escapes my lips as I hear the glass crack in his grip. The rim fractured under the pressure of his fingers.
"Are you..." I begin to ask until he exhales sharply and sets it back on the table with enough force that it might break it even more. Then, standing up without a word, he walks away.
I just stare at his hands as they retreat, checking for any signs of injury. Then I glance at the glass-cracked and chipped. No blood...but it was close.
What was with that overreaction? Did I go too far? It's just always hard to stop myself from saying whatever comes to mind when I'm in front of him. Not to mention him being rude doesn't make it any easier to control my tongue.
Before I can waste my time on these annoying thoughts, my ears pick up the familiar laugh of someone far away, and my heart starts racing.
Zachary Benedict.
I take in the sight of him. He's dressed in a dashing green and brown suit, the colors complementing his eyes and hair perfectly. The four-leaf clover pin on his lapel adds a touch of whimsy to his outfit, and I find myself smiling at the quirky detail and struck by how handsome he looks. His brown curly hair was perfectly styled. He's laughing and talking with a group of friends, his eyes sparkling with warmth.
My stomach flutters with excitement and nerves as I make my way towards Zach. I've been waiting for this moment all evening, and I don't want to blow it. I wait until he finishes talking to others and is finally alone.
As I approach him, his emerald eyes meet mine, and he flashes me a dazzling smile. I feel my cheeks flush, and my pulse quicken. I try to play it cool, returning his smile with a casual wave.
"Hey," I say, trying to sound nonchalant. "Thank you for coming."
"Clara! How's your evening going?"
I shrug, trying to appear relaxed. "It's been good. Just enjoying the music and the company."
A tap on my shoulder suddenly causes me to flinch. I turn around and come face-to-face with a pain in the neck.
"Dad says go and talk to her already," James, my little brother, who I wish would just bite his tongue for interrupting me. I bet he was waiting for me to talk to Zach so he could ruin everything.
"Fine, I get it." I glare at him. He stares blankly at me with a stupid expression, looking even more dumb in his crisp white button-down shirt.
"Hi, James. Well, Clara, I'll leave you to your duties, and...I think I see Alister over there, so I'm going to say hi. Later," Zach says, ruffling James's pretty blonde hair, which he spends hours on, and walks away.
I sigh and, disheartened, make my way over to the second person I hate most in this world.
Stephanie Hans is a vision of perfection, with her black hair in an elegant updo and violet silk strapless gown adorned with detailed, silver embroidery. It matches the silver necklace around her neck. I thought she'd show up in a suit like always. Her hazel eyes sparkle as she chats with her admirers. Everyone wants her attention. The guys can't seem to take their eyes off her, and the girls are all clamoring to be her best friend. It's like she's the queen bee, and everyone else is just a drone.
What frustrates me more are the two best friends by her side, Ella and Grace. The uninvited guests. I'm reminded of the embarrassment I felt when I had invited Stephanie to the party.
The way she tried to gaslight and call me out on playing a hierarchy card when I said only she was allowed to come. And since she's considered a VIP guest-thanks to Dad's old friendship with her late father-I was forced to oblige her request. Much to Sophia's frustration as she silently watched everything.
I try to compose myself and push these thoughts out of my head before going over to her. As soon as she sees me, she smiles and walks towards me.
"Hello, Stephanie," I say, trying to sound enthusiastic. "I'm so glad you could make it."
I can feel her eyes gleaming with superiority. "Of course. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. And I'm so glad I could bring my friends along."
I force a smile. "Yes. The more, the merrier, right?" Ella and Grace try to hold back their laughter, which further infuriates me.
"So, Stephanie, I'm glad we finally have a chance to talk," I say, trying to make small talk. Is Father looking? "You're usually so...tired all the time I don't ever get the opportunity."
I'll never understand how people can have a positive view of her, as the woman just sleeps in class like 60% of the time. She doesn't put in any effort like I do.
Stephanie's eyes narrow slightly, but she returns my smile. "Aww, if I'd known you were itching to talk to me, I'd have made some time for you in my busy schedule."
Be nice, Clara. You are a sweet person who gets along with everyone.
I laugh awkwardly. "Oh, isn't that generous of you?"
Stephanie hums as her smirk slowly diminishes. She turns to her friends. "Can you guys give us a minute?" They look at each other in confusion but nod and walk away.
As soon as they're gone, she comes closer and places her arm around my shoulder, surprising me.
"Your dad's watching, alright. So just stop being so painfully unbearable. I can't stand this uncomfortable small talk." She whispers. I look up at my father, and surely enough, he is looking with that stern expression of his.
"Say, Clara, how about I tell you something really interesting? Think of it as my secret present to you." She grins.
I frown as it's obvious she's scheming something. "No thanks, not interested. Although, you not being here would be the perfect present." I remark and remove her arm from my shoulder.
I'm about to walk away until she speaks again.
"It's about Zach."
I stop in my tracks as the sudden rush of curiosity fills me.
"What?"
She folds her arms and tilts her head towards the person in question, who is at the table with Alister and seems to be having a one-sided conversation. Alister looks like he's about to break something else, and it wouldn't be a glass this time. "I said it's about Zach. Don't you want to know?"
My mind races with possibilities, and I can't help but wonder what secret she thinks she knows. "No, I don't." I lie, trying to sound unbothered despite my growing curiosity.
But her sly grin tells me she's not buying it. "Oh, come on, Clara," she teases, her voice dripping with excitement. "You're dying to know, aren't you?"
I hesitate, my resolve weakening. "Fine," I relent, my voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me."
Stephanie's grin widens, and she leans in close and ushers me to do the same; her voice takes on a conspiratorial tone. "I overheard his and your dad talking. Something about you two and how you'd make a good pair."
My eyes widen in disbelief, and I feel like I've been punched in the gut. It can't be true. I glance over at them, still deep in conversation. Zachary's dad, who is also a shareholder of our company, and my dad are good acquaintances. "No way," I say, trying to sound skeptical, but my mind is already racing with the implications. What if Stephanie is lying? It makes more sense that she'd try to make a fool out of me.
She takes out her phone and starts typing something. A while later my phone buzzes, and it seems she has sent me something.
"I recorded it for you, just in case." She smirks, feeling proud of herself. I look at my phone and then back at her with wide eyes.
"Why? What do you gain from all this?" I ask, unable to comprehend.
As I stand there, frozen in shock and overwhelming emotions, her grin returns, and she whispers, "Happy birthday, Clara." Before going back to her friends.
I quickly go over to the ladies restroom and lock myself in an empty cubicle. Taking out my AirPods, I quietly listen to the audio file.
It seems his dad mentioned something about Zach. Him being with someone. That, when the time comes, it should be with a person of equal standing and from a respectable family. My dad then apparently mentioned me, and both agreed that we would look good together. The audio stops as they start to change the subject.
I feel like I had been holding my breath throughout the audio. I walk out, and a spark of excitement ignites within me. I began to imagine what it would be like to be with him forever.
I honestly don't remember much of what happened after that. It was as if I turned on autopilot as I sat back and immersed myself in daydreaming. Before I knew it, the party was over, everyone was gone, we were on our way home, and now I'm in my room, on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
How long have I been lying here? When did I change into my red pajamas? How many times have I listened to the audio incase it was fake? I don't know, but all I could think about was Zach.
I sigh as I shake my head. I need to pull myself together.
Swinging my legs over the bed, my gaze lands on the coffee table across the room. A mountain of gifts sits atop it, an extravagant display of colorful wrapping paper, glossy ribbons, and expensive bags. Each one more beautiful than the last. The sight of them no longer excites me, as they just feel like another obligation.
Still, I force myself to stand and make my way toward them. But before I can reach the table-
"Ow!"
Pain shoots through my foot as my toe slams against something hard, causing me to trip, hands and knees cushioning my fall.
I suck in a sharp breath, biting back a curse as I clutch my foot, rubbing my sore toe and glaring down at the offending object. A box wrapped in rose gold paper has tumbled to the floor.
I groan as I reach down and grab it, my irritation only increasing when I see the small card attached to it.
'To Clara-Alister Wyatt'
I scoff, rolling my eyes. Of course.
Just seeing his name is enough to remind me of our little interaction earlier.
What could he possibly have gotten me? A brick? A backhanded letter about how I should work on my fake smile?
I'm tempted to shove it aside, but curiosity gnaws at me. With a huff, I tear away the wrapping.
It's a wooden box. I turn it over in my hands, taking a closer look. It seems nice I suppose, even if it looks very worn and old.
With a click, I lift the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of soft, black velvet, is a white gemstone.
The moment I see it, my breath catches.
It's stunning-luminous, almost as if it's glowing under the dim light of my bedside lamp. The surface glistens like untouched snow, shifting between frosty whites and subtle hints of silver as I tilt it. I feel a strange pull in my chest, as if it's demanding my attention, urging me to admire it just a little longer.
It's... beautiful. Really beautiful.
I don't know why Alister gave me this. I don't know how he, of all people, managed to pick out something so...captivating. But for all his arrogance, he clearly has an eye for such things.
I snap the box shut before I start thinking too much about it. Setting it aside, I move on to the rest of the gifts, unwrapping them one by one, letting the rustle of paper and the shine of expensive trinkets drown out everything else.