A Treacherous Setup

Sylvie trudged down the narrow hallway of the apartment building, the heavy canvas bag she carried all evening leaving a dull ache in her shoulders. The familiar fatigue of her long takeout delivery shift settled deep into her bones. She stopped in front of her worn wooden door, raising her knuckles to knock.

Before the wood could even rattle, a deliberately hushed little voice drifted from the other side.

"Rooster, hen, chicken stew."

Sylvie let out a helpless smile, the exhaustion melting away in an instant. Another round of password verification.

"Thank you my old friend for the double strike," she replied softly.

"Circle, steel ring, hula hoop," the voice countered from inside.

"The magic of love goes round and round," Sylvie answered.

The deadbolt clicked loudly. The door swung inward, and a little girl in a fluffy white princess dress rushed out. Small arms wrapped tightly around Sylvie’s legs.

"Mommy! Congratulations on getting all the answers right! You’ve won the qualification to come home!"

The corners of Sylvie’s mouth curled into a warm smile as she stroked the girl's soft hair. Since Sylvie often worked night shifts running takeout orders, Aria possessed a strong awareness of personal safety. She never opened the door without the password. Aria was a sensible, well-behaved child.

More importantly, Aria was Sylvie’s biological daughter.

Three years ago, after leaving the hospital under her sister's strict watch, Sylvie experienced sudden, agonizing cramps in the back of the car. She ended up giving birth to a second daughter right there on the leather seats. She had been pregnant with fraternal twins the whole time. Her cruel sister, terrified that medical checkups might leak their secret arrangement, had forbidden Sylvie from seeing a proper doctor during the pregnancy. They had no idea there was another baby.

Unable to bear losing another piece of her soul, Sylvie begged the driver to keep his mouth shut. She hid the newborn away. She could never let her sister and that cold, blind man find out about Aria’s existence.

"Aria, you forgot to call mommy Fairy Sylvie again," she teased.

"Alright then, mommy. I got it."

Sylvie shook her head, wondering if there was any way to save her daughter’s quirky logic.

"By the way, mommy," Aria whispered, pointing toward the hallway. "Grandma said she wants to talk to you about something."

A resounding creak echoed from the master bedroom. Muriel Higgins marched out, clad in a loud green nightgown. A thick sheet mask covered her face, and her lips were painted a stark, tacky scarlet. Born in a rural village, Muriel used the generous adoption fees provided by the Bancroft family to mimic the look of a noblewoman, though she only managed to look harsh and demanding.

She tossed a vacuum-sealed packet of homemade pickles onto the dining table. It hit the wood with a heavy thud.

"Send this to Chairman Garrick at The Obsidian Room at seven o’clock in the evening tomorrow," Muriel ordered, crossing her arms.

Sylvie’s brow furrowed. Disgust twisted in her stomach, and she instinctively stepped back. Everyone in Arinthia knew about Clive Garrick. He weighed over two hundred pounds, his face was riddled with pockmarks, and he carried a terrifying reputation. Rumors insisted he had indirectly caused the deaths of five previous wives. He was known across the city as a fat, vile, horny predator.

"No," Sylvie said, her tone firm. "I rarely go over there."

Muriel’s eyes narrowed through the slits of her face mask. Her expression soured instantly. "Chairman Garrick already paid money to buy my exclusive pickles. I received his cash. What am I going to tell him if you refuse to go there?"

Sylvie stood her ground, but Muriel quickly shifted tactics.

"Besides," Muriel continued, feigning a sigh, "I was thinking of using this money to buy new clothes for Aria since the season is changing. I’m not spending the money on myself."

Sylvie looked down at Aria’s worn princess dress. She never expected Muriel to willingly spend a single cent on the little girl. Swayed by the thought of her daughter getting a proper winter coat, Sylvie swallowed her disgust.

"Okay," Sylvie agreed softly. She could just take a quick detour during her deliveries tomorrow to drop it off.

As Sylvie scooped Aria up and headed toward their small bedroom, Muriel stood by the table, watching her with sinister eyes. This adopted daughter had never been close to her. Blood was blood, and adopted trash was just trash. Sylvie should just wait and see how Chairman Garrick dealt with her tomorrow night. Let’s see how proud and stubborn she acts then.

Muriel smirked under her mask. Giselle’s plan was truly ruthless.

The next day arrived in a blur of routine. After dropping Aria off at preschool and burning through several hours of daytime delivery orders, evening fell over the city. Sylvie checked her watch, adjusted her takeout uniform, and navigated her way to The Obsidian Room.

The exclusive club was a sensory overload of dark velvet, dim lighting, and the clinking of crystal glasses. Soft jazz played from hidden speakers, failing to mask the heavy atmosphere of hidden sins and quiet, dirty deals. Sylvie found the allocated booth in a quiet corner of the lounge. The leather sofa was empty.

She stood by the table, frowning. Was he not here yet?

Her legs ached from pedaling her delivery bike all day. Sylvie sat down on the edge of the sofa to rest her feet. A single glass of plain water sat waiting on the low glass table. Parched from the ride, she picked it up, took a casual sip, and set it down. She pulled out her phone, preparing to call Muriel for the man's contact number.

Footsteps slapped against the marble floor. Clive Garrick hurried over, his massive frame shifting under a tight, expensive suit.

"Sylvie, you’re here," Clive said, panting slightly. "Sorry, I went to use the washroom."

He waved a thick, stubby hand toward the gold-embossed menu on the table, feigning the easygoing generosity of the ultra-rich. "Take a look at what you would like to eat. I’ll pay for it."

A single napkin in this establishment cost nearly a hundred dollars. Clive hated spending money, but he enjoyed playing the role of a wealthy benefactor to trick desperate women.

Sylvie stood up immediately. She maintained a polite, distant smile as she handed the sealed packet of pickles across the table.

"Chairman Garrick, I won’t be eating anything. This is what my mother asked me to give to you. I still have to work, so I’ll be leaving first."

"Ehh, what’s the hurry?" Clive lunged forward, grabbing her slender arm.

His grip was clammy and tight. He pulled himself closer. His greasy face loomed inches from hers, radiating a foul, sickening stench of stale tobacco and cheap alcohol.

"We did meet after all, which makes us friends," Clive murmured, his eyes scanning her up and down. "Look at you. You are so tired from delivering takeouts everyday, and you make so little money. Wouldn’t it be better for you to marry me? I’ll make sure you can eat well every day."

His free hand began wandering, reaching toward her waist with grotesque intent.

Sheer terror and disgust spiked in Sylvie’s chest. She slapped his wandering hand away with a sharp smack and yanked her arm free, stepping backward in a panic.

"Chairman Garrick, I like to be self-sufficient. Please have some self-respect!"

She turned on her heel to flee the booth.

Before she could take a second step, a sudden, overwhelming dizziness struck the back of her head. The dim lights of The Obsidian Room smeared into blinding streaks of gold and red. The floor tilted beneath her feet.

Her muscles lost all their strength. Her body went limp, betraying her command to run. She could barely keep her eyes open as a cold sweat broke out across her forehead. Caught off guard by the rapid loss of motor control, her knees gave out. She collapsed backward, sinking helplessly into the plush cushions of the leather sofa.

She tried to push herself up, but her arms felt like lead. Her gaze drifted to the half-empty glass on the table.

"You…" Sylvie gasped, dread freezing her veins as her vision blurred. "What did you put in the water?"