Chapter 91
"Take her somewhere secure," Elizabeth ordered. "Have someone watch her. Don't let anything happen to her, and don't let her run off. I'll question her myself after I've dealt with tonight's business."
"Understood." Lynx's reply was crisp. He moved to help the trembling Lucy to her feet, quickly bundled her into the van, and the vehicle vanished into the night.
Elizabeth watched the car disappear, her gaze calm and assessing.
Someone from Hillside Manor—a butler or some other staff member—had dared to impersonate Jacob, even going so far as to keep a mistress?
This was not the work of a single individual.
There had to be a faction backing him, or at the very least, implicit permission and indulgence from within the family.
Who was it? Richard? Michelle? Or another member of the Smith family with their own hidden agenda?
"Uri," she said, switching to another encrypted channel. "Run a check on the management staff at Hillside Manor. I want to know what kind of ghosts are haunting that estate."
"On it, Noel. I've already started," Uri's voice came back, cool and efficient.
With those arrangements made, Elizabeth glanced at the time.
She was nearly an hour late for her meeting with Samantha at the Aurora Bar.
Not that she had ever intended to be punctual.
She smoothed her slightly disheveled coat and hair, her expression settling back into its familiar, coolly detached mask as she walked toward her car.
Inside the Aurora Bar, the lights were a hypnotic blur and the music a deafening throb.
Samantha sat in the most conspicuous booth, a collection of empty glasses already littering the table before her. Her face was flushed, a combination of impatience and alcohol.
She was surrounded by a few similarly fashionable, sycophantic men and women who were busy consoling her and cursing Elizabeth's lack of grace.
"Don't be mad, Samantha. A woman like that has no class. She's probably too scared to even show up!"
"Exactly! Mr. Smith already postponed the wedding. What right does she have to act so high and mighty?"
The more Samantha thought about it, the angrier she became, her irritation compounded by the fear that she might fail the task Lilith had given her.
Just as she was about to order another drink, a slender figure at the entrance caught the corner of her eye.
Elizabeth had arrived.
She wore a simple, form-fitting black dress under a matching coat, her long hair loosely pinned up. Her face was devoid of makeup, yet in the kaleidoscopic chaos of the bar, she possessed an otherworldly quality that made her both stand out and seem utterly out of place.
Her entrance instantly drew a number of eyes.
Suppressing a surge of fury and an inexplicable pang of jealousy, Samantha forced a brittle smile and waved. "Elizabeth! Over here!"
Elizabeth walked over, sat down across from Samantha, and turned a blind eye to the malicious stares around her.
"Elizabeth, you finally made it! We've been waiting forever," Samantha said, her tone a cloying whine as she pushed a pre-poured wine toward her. "You're so late, you know. The rule is you have to drink three shots as a penalty. This first one, the Aurora Kiss, is the house special. Why don't you try it?"
Elizabeth glanced at the drink but didn't touch it.
Her gaze swept calmly over Samantha and her entourage before settling back on Samantha's face. "Did you invite me out tonight just to drink, Ms. Smith, or was there something else?"
Samantha's smile faltered for a second before she feigned a wounded expression. "What are you talking about? I was just in a bad mood and wanted to hang out and relax! What else could there be? Look, I've already had a few waiting for you!"
To prove her point, she picked up her own matching cocktail, tilted her head back, and drained it in one go, showing Elizabeth the empty glass. "See? It's fine. You're not going to refuse me this little bit of face, are you?"
Elizabeth watched the performance with a cold, internal smile.
The drink might be clean, but Samantha and her friends were anything but. She had no interest in playing their childish games.
"I do not doubt your tolerance, Ms. Smith," Elizabeth said, her hand still nowhere near the glass. Her eyes began a seemingly casual scan of the main floor, lingering on the dimly lit corners and the staircase leading to the second level.
She was searching for the person who had left that arrogant message on the dark web, summoning her here.
The main hall was a cacophony of voices and clinking glasses, but no one fit the profile of the mysterious challenger she anticipated.
Seeing Elizabeth completely unresponsive, her attention wandering, Samantha felt thoroughly ignored and played for a fool. Old and new grievances surged, and the fake smile finally cracked.
"Elizabeth!" She hissed, her voice low with anger. "What is your problem? I invite you out, you show up ridiculously late, you won't drink, you won't even talk to me properly. You're just looking all over the place. Are you trying to disrespect me?"
Elizabeth's gaze returned to Samantha. "You misunderstand, Ms. Smith," she offered, the apology devoid of any real sentiment. "I was just thinking that since we're at a bar, sticking to the main floor seems a bit… uninspired. As a member of the Smith family, surely you can afford a private room?"
The words were a clear provocation, a deliberate test.
As expected, Samantha's pride was stung. Eager to lure Elizabeth into the trap she had prepared—where Lilith's little surprise was waiting—she rose to the bait.
"Who says I can't afford a private room?" She snapped, her tone hostile. "Follow me. I'll show you what's what." With that, she spun on her heel and stalked toward the second floor.
Elizabeth followed at an unhurried pace.
The second floor was much quieter than the first, the hallway carpeted in thick, sound-dampening material and lined with the closed doors of private rooms.
Samantha led Elizabeth toward the one she had booked in advance.
Just as they passed the third door, Elizabeth's steps faltered for a fraction of a second.
The door was shut tight, flanked by two guards whose formidable builds and sharp, watchful eyes marked them as far more than typical bar security. The placement of the door and the posture of the men projected an unmistakable aura, a silent warning to keep away.
Elizabeth's gaze lingered on the door for a moment longer. Was this it? The place the messenger specified?
Her hesitation did not go unnoticed.
One of the guards stepped forward, blocking her path with an impassive expression. "Ma'am, the second floor is booked for a private event tonight. Please return to the first floor."
Samantha, already on a short fuse, saw the obstruction and erupted. "Are you blind? Do you not recognize me? This is Jacob's establishment! I'll go wherever I damn well please! Get out of my way!"
At the mention of Jacob's name, the guard's eyes flickered, but he held his ground. His tone remained flat and unyielding. "Apologies, but Mr. Smith is currently with an important guest. His orders were that he was not to be disturbed by anyone."