Chapter 3 - The VIP Guest List
I calmly walked back up the floating stairs, leaving the frantic pounding entirely behind me in the basement.
I went straight to my massive chef’s kitchen and poured myself a generous glass of my favorite vintage Pinot Noir.
I took a slow, deliberate sip, letting the complex flavors coat my tongue as I finalized my master plan.
Marcus had always been deeply obsessed with his pristine public image and his family’s unwavering approval.
His mother, Eleanor, thought the absolute sun shone out of him.
His younger brother, David, treated him like a wealthy god because Marcus constantly funneled my money into David’s failed business ventures.
They had all happily feasted on my wealth, my generosity, and my endless hard work.
I pulled out my phone and created a brand new group chat titled "Marcus's Anniversary Surprise."
I added Eleanor, David, and Marcus’s two closest corporate colleagues who lived in our gated community.
I typed out a message with perfectly feigned, bubbly enthusiasm.
"Emergency anniversary gathering at the estate tonight! I have a massive surprise for Marcus and I need his favorite people here to witness it."
"Please come over immediately, dress casually, and get ready for a jaw-dropping reveal."
"Champagne is already chilling!"
I hit send and watched the delivery receipts instantly pop up on the screen.
Within exactly two minutes, Eleanor replied with a string of heart emojis, claiming she was already getting in her car.
David responded shortly after, asking if there would be free catered food.
I let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking my head at their sheer, predictable greed.
They thought they were coming over to drink my expensive liquor and celebrate the cash cow they had all been milking for a decade.
I spent the next thirty minutes perfectly curating the grand stage for my performance.
I went up to the master bathroom, washed my face, and reapplied my makeup flawlessly.
I changed into a stunning, tailored crimson dress that made me look like an absolute powerhouse.
I wanted Marcus’s family to see exactly what he was throwing away for a naive twenty-one-year-old girl.
I went back down to the basement lounge, which was situated directly outside the locked wine cellar door.
I turned on the massive, eighty-five-inch flat-screen television mounted on the wall.
Using my phone, I wirelessly cast the live security feed from inside the wine cellar directly onto the massive screen.
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The image was paused, hidden behind a black screen saver, waiting for the perfect moment to be revealed.
The trap was fully set, the bait was taken, and the audience was on their way.
