Chapter 42 Setting The Stage

Chapter 42 Setting The Stage
Kai’s POV

I retreated into the shadows as the toast wrapped up, the applause still ringing in my ears like some mocking echo. 

My heart hadn’t slowed down one bit. The silver tray felt heavier now, even empty, as I slipped back toward the service area. 

Every step away from that stage pulled at me, but I forced myself to keep moving. 

Play it smart, Kai. Rushing in like a bull gets you kicked out…or worse humiliated. And that won't be a good look. I don't want Alina to see me in that state.

The after-party. Blake was throwing one at his family’s condo. That much I’d overheard from his followers back in the dorm. No invite for a guy like me, obviously. But I needed to get in. Needed to be close enough to start prying at the cracks.

I was halfway through planning my next move…maybe sneak in with the catering trucks, or find a side entrance…when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder again. 

My buddy’s uncle, the head chef, looked harried, sweat beading on his forehead under the bright kitchen lights.

“Kid, you want to earn some extra cash tonight?” he asked, voice gruff but hopeful. “We’re short on hands. Another gig just popped up. Pays double if you hustle.”

I shook my head before the man even finished. “Nah, I’ve got something important to handle.”

The man groaned loud, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn it. Where the hell are we gonna find another extra hand this late? These rich young masters and their nonsense after-parties. Throw money around like it grows on trees, then expect us to scramble like it’s our emergency.” 

He muttered a few more curses under his breath about entitled kids and their endless demands, shaking his head as he turned away.

My eyes widened as I realized what he was talking about.

After-party. Condo. It was the exact place I needed to crash. Opportunity slammed into me like a speeding car and I spun on my heel and rushed after the older man, dodging a server carrying a stack of clean plates.

“Wait…Uncle Jon!” I called out, catching up fast. “I’m available for the after party. I can go.”

The man stopped, turning with a raised eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say you weren’t?”

I flashed a quick grin, trying to play it casual even as adrenaline surged through me. “Cleared my calendar for that extra cash. You know how it is. I have textbooks to buy and all that crap.”

Uncle Jon let out a relieved laugh and clapped me on the back. “Ah, thank God. You’re a lifesaver, kid. Head out back…there’s a van waiting. You guys are going straight to the condo to prep everything before the young ones roll in. Move quick.”

I nodded, already turning toward the exit. “Got it.”

“You’ll be stationed poolside with Rick and Finn,” Uncle Jon added, calling after me. “Keep the drinks flowing, watch for spills, all that. Don’t slack.”

But I wasn’t really listening anymore. The words blurred into background noise. 

I answered with a quick “Got it” over my shoulder and pushed through the back doors into the cool night air. 

Serving drinks? Yeah, right. The only thing I planned to serve tonight was the downfall of Blake Harrington. Slow, deliberate, and ruthless.

Minutes later, the catering van rumbled through the city streets, the engine vibrating under my seat. 

I stared out the tinted window, watching the glittering skyline blur past. When we finally pulled up to Blake’s family condo, the sight hit me square in the chest. 

The place was gigantic…a towering modern masterpiece of glass and steel overlooking the river, lights already glowing from every level like a damn palace. 

Infinity pools cascaded down terraces, and the rooftop balcony stretched wide enough to host a concert.

Breathtaking. The kind of home that screamed old money and zero worries.

A sharp pang of jealousy twisted in my gut. Blake was born into this. Silver spoon, doting parents, a future handed to him on a platinum platter. 

Meanwhile, I had been dumped at an orphanage as a baby with nothing but a cheap blanket and questions that never got answered. No family photos. No bedtime stories. Just group homes and hand-me-downs.

For a second, my mind wandered into that stupid movie fantasy. 

What if? What if my parents were actually billionaires who’d lost their only heir in some dramatic accident or swap like in movies? They’d been searching for years, and now I’d show up…handsome, wronged, ready to claim everything. 

I could become a rich young master…step onto Blake’s level, compete for Alina fair and square. No masks. No trays. Just me.

I snorted softly and killed the thought. Wishful bullshit. Because I’d found my parents, alright. 

More like their graves. Two weathered stones in a quiet cemetery on the edge of town. 

The story behind it was long, messy, and painful…car accident, no relatives stepping up, system swallowing me whole. 

I wasn’t ready to dig into that tonight. Or ever, really. All I wanted, all I needed, was to destroy whatever Blake was trying to build with Alina. The guy didn’t deserve her. Not one single piece.

We got to work right away. The team moved like a well-oiled machine under the outdoor lights. I helped haul heavy coolers filled with ice and bottles down to the pool deck, the cold seeping through my gloves and making my fingers ache. Rick and Finn mixed massive batches of cocktails in giant dispensers…bright blue curaçao, sharp vodka, sweet fruit punches that smelled like vacation and bad decisions. 

The DJ set up on a raised platform by the pool, speakers thumping low test beats that echoed off the water. 

Flashy party lights were strung everywhere…neon blues and purples pulsing across the deck, underwater LEDs turning the pool into a glowing jewel. 

Lounge chairs were arranged just right, towels folded with military precision, and trays of fresh appetizers lined up under heat lamps. The whole package screamed excess…loud, shiny, and ready to impress.
After the last cooler was stocked and the final string of lights blinked on, I dusted my hands on my pants and stood with them planted on my hips. 

My back muscles burned from the lifting, but the job was done. I slipped away from the main setup crew and climbed a narrow service staircase to the rooftop balcony overlooking the poolside. 

The view hit different up here. The city lights sparkled in the distance, the pool below shimmered like liquid sapphire, and the bass from the DJ’s speakers vibrated faintly through the floor.

I exhaled long and slow, letting the night air fill my lungs. It smelled like chlorine, expensive liquor, and possibility.

This was my battlefield for the next few hours.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, the screen lighting up with a notification. I pulled it out, and my face warmed instantly when I saw the name.