6 years ago-
Unknown POV
As I entered the room, I exhaled deeply—looking around me to see how well I knew the space. I've been here before, but the decor changes, so I never got used to it. Gothic panels and glass bookcases extend fifteen feet to a plaster medallion and frescoed ceiling. A marble fireplace at the back of the room is said to be ideally suited for winter.
The room is massive and rectangular in style. I focused on the faint polka music playing in the distance. There were several types of people in the crammed hall. To put it lightly, this party is boujee. The aristocracy represents the party. The mansion is decorated with priceless artwork and furnishings, and the guests dress in designer clothing--drinking pricey champagne. It's an exhibition of lavishness.
I enter, fix my tie, and smooth out my suit. At the counter, a wine glass awaited me. My eyes explore the alternatives, ranging from exotic fruits to pricey caviar. Apart from the alcohol, they never appeared to touch the meal. These dishes are only a demonstration of riches and a challenge for other affluent people to provide finer food for their gatherings. All these delicacies, decorations and jewels are just ways for them to show how much money they have in their pockets that we do.
The majority of individuals wore form-fitting gowns and suits. If your clothes were too baggy, you weren't fit to be an aristocrat. The ladies showed off their diamond watches and jewels. Outside the roads were crowded with photographers and reporters. Luckily, security was enhanced over the prior occasion. Even though I am not the focus of the media, it gives me concern. When I hear clicks, I am even more nervous. In the name of the media, they are more akin to stalkers.
The familiar face of Paul Beckett caught my vision. He appeared to be talking to someone, so I approached him. We were business partners, yet I couldn't do anything when Paul got frustrated and departed. He thought of better ideas than I did and finally established a prosperous company. To earn money, I would rather pursue the correct route than one that leads to evil. The same, however, cannot be said of Paul since he went down the path of wickedness. As far as I know, he runs a business that deals with human trafficking. Even the thought of it gives me shivers, but I don't have any other choice. I have to get along with him.
Paul is the show's host and the main attraction. I wasn't going to the party at first, but my curiosity won out. In this nasty society we live in, money is all that matters--and they are correct. We overlook our flesh and blood to live a luxurious life and accomplish our aspirations. Do I honestly feel that I would never choose the incorrect path to gain money? I tightened my hold on the wine glass--considering the grisly methods.
I'm just a modest drug dealer, yet somehow, I envy Paul's skills when I look at him. I wonder if one day I could get his job and get the life I deserve, but at what price? Every year, I attend this party to see Paul's business progress. When I look in the mirror, his reflection does not correspond to my own, and it's revolting to me.
"Hey, I heard about your wife. I regret not being able to attend the funeral, but I'm here for you."
Paul spoke with a broken expression like he couldn't care less.
"Did you even cared about her?" I asked in a passive aggressive way.
"Of course, she was such a nice assistant and friend. But today try to forget her and enjoy the party" Paul gave a small comforting pat on my shoulder while giving a concerned look.
I sighed and sipped the last drop of the refined wine. My wife, Kylie, died in a car accident last week. I couldn't save her, and now she's devouring me. Perhaps if I had the finances, her life could've been spared by my saving. During this time, I asked Paul for assistance, but he was out of station and didn't return my calls. My daughter is devastated as well.
'I'm here for you' is a falsehood, but my hands are tied, so therefore, I cannot oppose him, or this will be my last day on earth. I have limited options as to what I can say to Paul.
Paul might have realized he shouldn't have mentioned my wife and tried to calm things down by buying me a new drink. After all, I didn't want to be sober tonight, so I pulled the glass off his sweaty fingertips. Every day, I feel like his slave, like his hand is around my neck, choking me if I do anything wrong.
To get everyone's attention, Paul raised his glass of wine and hit it lightly with a spoon.
"My friend isn't feeling well, so Lucas, my boy, arrange something fun for us. We're going to have a great time tonight."
Aw, man, this entertainment will only sicken me even more. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, Paul drank another glass of wine and seated himself next to me.
Paul has an illegitimate son, Lucas. Now, Lucas is the polar opposite of his rude father because he is constantly terrified of everything and everyone. Paul, on the other hand, is a wolf in sheep's clothing, and despite his friendly appearance, he is the one you should be wary of.
Paul hasn't murdered me because I am useless and of no value: Worthless. If I had been a menace to him, I would have been long gone. Paul is unaware that I lied to him about my daughter, but if he knew, he'd probably take advantage of my poor little girl. Like his slave, I would have to submit to his commands. However, I will not allow this to happen to my child.
According to the hierarchy, Paul is ranked second, and the Agnors are ranked first. As a result, Paul never invites them to his parties. Agnors have a bad reputation, which means they are worse than Paul himself. I get chills from hearing their names. Yes, I'm in a difficult situation, but I'll do anything to keep my daughter safe. Besides, I could never put her in a ghastly position like this one.
Paul is attempting to defy the Agnors, to the point of threatening them last month. What would happen should they decide to play another game? The Agnors are murderers who take out anything that stands in their way. Even a little youngster is not secure in their presence, and Paul is still playing games too risky. Can you blame him? Everyone yearns for the position of authority at the summit.
I was competing for a position as well, though once my wife passed away, I realized that regular people are just their puppets, acting under their wishes.
Some people become so hell-bent on keeping their position at the top that they are not able to envisage how to survive without it. The Agnors, however, never wavered--and I've never seen anyone step up to the plate and take the lead. When you gamble at a casino, you may believe you are winning, but once you see past the illusions and lose everything you've worked hard to get, you will be devastated big time.
I came back to reality when the people around me gave a big round of applause. With bikinis and perch-shaped shoes, four women stood in front of the pole, posing to their heart's content. Paul always does something interesting, and this year he went pole dancing. Slow, melancholy music transitioned to louder, joyful music. The ladies began whirling around the pole, hanging from it and turning upside down into the splits. On top of that, a man started dancing with one of the girls.
Just the sight of them alone can make some folks drool. These girls had to be the worst potential victims of human trafficking. Aw, poor them: they have no hope of a better life.
Geez, I think I need to cleanse my mind. I got up from the couch and reached for a cigarette out of my back pocket.
"Where are you headed? The fun has just begun," inquired Paul, puffing on a hookah. He motioned me to sit next to him, looking towards the group of dancers with lust in his eyes.
I light my cigarette, place it between my lips, and exhale the smoke, saying, "I'll be back soon,"
My body felt a rush of relief mixed with pleasure as soon as I closed the door behind me and rushed toward the restroom. I glanced out the window to admire the view. We were on the 10th floor. From above, the houses and structures looked stunning, and the people appeared to be little insects below me. The calm wind blew across my hair.
Suddenly, I overheard screaming and fighting outside. I hurried to extinguish the cigarette by pushing it against the ashtray. What is going on? I raced towards the commotion after unlocking the restroom door. The lobby was full of people, and Paul's voice was audible from either of the walls. Paul drew my attention as I made my way into the crowd; he seemed at once astonished and enraged.
A young boy stood directly in front of Paul, towering over him. He seemed to be in his twenties with his hair brushed back, eyes made of blue crystal and a menacing but composed expression. If I recall correctly, I think I know him: he is Alexander Agnor, the son of Jonathan Agnor. What is he doing here, anyway? My hands grew numb, and my heart ran a marathon all on its own.
"I can't believe little Alex is at my house. Wait, this party is strictly for adults, though."
Paul began to ramble without pausing in between his sentences. I'm not sure whether he's scared or annoyed. One thing is for sure, Alexander remained in deafening silence.
"What do you seek? Cold beverage or milk?"
Paul said with an obnoxious laugh that echoed throughout the room.
Even though Alexander is young and has a lot to learn, I don't think Paul should have spoken to him in that manner. The Agnors are extremely lethal, and as a result, nobody wanted to be on the wrong side of them.
"Don't get too cocky about yourself! You have been a threat to our family for a long time!"
When Alexander finally spoke, his voice was stern and forceful, like a hawk waiting to pounce on its prey—his eyes fixated on Paul.
"Those were just threats. I hadn't even begun to play." Paul responded with arrogance.
He sounded agitated and impatient. Paul should not aim at the top so early in, because everyone knows that slow and steady wins the race.
"Why don't you go away so I can enjoy the party? Agnors are not permitted."
Paul told him exactly how much he despised them, which is a bad move on his end. I can sense the tension in the room from a mile away, as well. When Alexander curled his lips into a devilish smirk, for some reason, he looked like a different person to me.
"You're wasting my time. I'd be forced to—"
I felt something splash on my face after the trigger was pulled, and a loud noise reverberated in the room.
My eyes widened like saucers seeing the thick blood on the floor. Next to that, Paul's lifeless body, with a visible hole in his chest. As people started screaming, the world around me momentarily became passionless and moved slowly.
Did Alexander assassinate Paul? Alexander stood out to me, and as usual, his expression was serene, as if killing people were on his simple agenda.
I trembled in my boots while checking Paul's heart rate, but it was too late; he was already dead. I froze in horror at the gore display, but Alexander arrived to aim for me next. I felt his eyes puncture the deepest part of my soul.
"Let's see who gets the second spot," Alexander said sarcastically, turning and then walking before stopping. At this moment, fear is the only emotion I can substantiate. My hands continued to shake, like an elderly struggling to pour their juice. He's going to shoot me, too.
"Oh, by the way," Alexander paused, then pointed at himself, "This kid spent last night with your wife." Without missing a beat, he left with some of his bodyguards trailing behind him, quickly vanishing into the dark as if he had never been there.
We are all members of his cult. We all stand as pawns in their hands. The chain of command was irrelevant.