Episode 87

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Elijah spoke. His voice was low, steady, and laced with steel. “She wouldn’t dare.”

A whirlwind of drinks, teetering between revelry and chaos, culminated in Elizabeth abruptly tossing incomplete playing cards across the table as if insulted. Leaping to her feet, she exclaimed, her voice tinged with panic, "This is an utter disaster! My brother knows I'm back! He's coming to haul me out of here! I've got to escape! Sandra, stay put—I'll arrange a car to fetch you."

Before Sandra could reply, Elizabeth grabbed her bag and vanished.

Left in a haze of dizziness and unease, Sandra sank deeper into her chair. Her head spun, and her stomach churned. Stranded among unfamiliar men, her previously stifled irritation surged.

Perhaps emboldened by her isolation, one of the young men strutted over. He exuded a cocky demeanor, a cheap imitation of Elijah—all swagger, no substance. Leaning uncomfortably close, he murmured, "Miss, I could give you a ride home later." His alcohol-laden breath brushed her ear, making her skin crawl.

Sandra wanted to recoil, but the alcohol had sapped her strength, leaving her rooted in her seat. Mistaking her silence for encouragement, he grew bolder, his hand creeping onto her thigh with feigned gentleness.

The establishment catered mainly to older women and clients with unconventional tastes; a young, attractive woman like Sandra was a rarity. His intentions were clear: establish a connection, perhaps leading to a more promising future.

His advances sent shivers down her spine, briefly piercing her drunken haze. Instinctively, she shoved him away. Stumbling to her feet, she staggered backward, accidentally knocking over bottles that shattered loudly.

A sudden hush fell over the room. The previously rowdy young men now wore the chastened expressions of children caught misbehaving. Suppressing her nausea, Sandra issued a sharp, icy command: "Leave."

Several, sensing the brewing storm, hurriedly exited without a word.