I grabbed the invitation, my hand shaking, and my fingers sweating. The people in the mansion were stunning. Waiters in fancy suits moved quietly among guests who looked like they'd stepped
Straight out of fashion magazines, all under sparkling lights. I put my thumb to my lip, my heart racing. I thought," I don't belong here."
I had copied the Milton family's crest from an old book, hoping that security wouldn't notice
They didn't. The guard barely looked at my dress and let me in. He probably thought I was just another rich blonde girl among the elite.
I pushed through the grand double doors and just stopped. My heart did a flip—I felt like someone else dressed me up and dropped me in a movie. Everyone around me was laughing while holding fancy champagne glasses. My eyes burned from the bright lights, and I blinked hard. I couldn't stop thinking, "How did I get here?"
I carried my sketchpad close, pretending confidence. Inside, polished marble floors reflected my red dress and the polished shoes of billionaires. I paused before a portrait of Alexander Milton.
"Lost?" A calm voice broke the quiet. I turned and saw Alexander, the man himself. He had dark hair and a tailored suit. He was so strong, and everyone else around him just seemed to disappear. His cufflinks sparkled like ice in the soft light.
I made my voice steady. "Not lost. Just…looking at the art." My thumb rubbed the edge of my sketchpad.
He studied me calmly. "Your drawing?" he asked, noticing.
"Just a sketch," I said quietly. My heart started beating very fast
He just nodded. But when his hands touched my arm to guide me, I didn't expect what happened. His cufflinks cracked and fell apart. The champagne glasses above us shook; a big light flickered. A server dropped hors d'oeuvres with a crash.
Suddenly, the whole room became quiet.
Alexander's Father tapped his cane on the marble floor, making everyone in the hall look at him. He stood up straight and cleared his voice before calling out.
"Alexander"
Alex released me, his hand cold. "She's with me," he said, voice low but firm. "Three minutes before they check the cameras."
My heart skipped. I didn't move.
He looked at me once more, then led me away. His suit was still perfect, even with the broken cufflinks. Guards were moving through the crowd, and I knew they'd check me out soon.
"Here," Alexander whispered, pressing his special ring into my hand. "If they ask you, don't tell them you stole this."
The ring pressed warm into my skin. Its crest was strange but familiar; it matched an old folder of my father's papers, and looked like something I saw, but why would I give it time when I have to be running for my life?
He stepped back; guards surrounded me. I passed in the middle of hedges, heavily breathing. Then outside, I saw the marble fountain glowing under the moonlight. I stood next to it, heart pounding, and pressed the ring into my palm – it felt warm and alive. The night air was cool, and when I held the ring in the moonlight, it felt hot and alive in my hand.
I spun around. Alexander stood under the fountain's water, with the bright fountain light behind him making him a dark shape.
He didn't speak. He just held out his hand.
I stared at his empty cuff, where the cufflinks should have been. Then I looked at him.
"Run", he said, voice soft but very urgent.
I didn't wait. I just started running.
I woke up before the sun and reached for the gold locket Alex gave me. It felt warm, almost like it was alive.
My chest felt tight. Why would someone like Milton give me something? Isn't this personal ? I remembered his eyes – they looked strong but also scared. But then, I remembered that sometimes rich people act strangely. Yes, you heard me, they can be truly crazy and surprising.
I sat at my easel, trying to paint, but the canvas stayed empty. My mind kept playing his words over and over: "Are you lost?" and "She is with me." It all felt so unreal.
I went to the corner café, and I held a latte in my shaking hands. I stared at the foam, thinking about how Alexander always seems calm but also stressed. I sat at my usual table and looked at the empty seat across from me.
"Late again," said Christine, sliding into her seat with a big smile
"Elara, you look so beautiful."
"I had…plans," I answered, voice low.
She laughed, "Plans? Elara, you missed our drawing class exhibition. Everyone asked where you were."
I hugged my latte tighter. "I didn't go."
Christine's eyes widened. "You didn't go?
Elara, you're so stubborn and funny. How did you even make it to the Milton mansion?"
I leaned in, letting the fear slip away. "I snuck in."
"Excuse me, you did what?" she said, her tone half-amused, half-worried.
"Wait, do you still think they have magic? Do you think it's real?"
"I pretended to be a worker." I glanced around, though the café felt empty of entryways.
"Clean uniform, tray, gloves, the whole thing. Then I changed into my dress, where no one could see."
"My father didn't spend all those years making up a lie in his drawings," I said, looking at her.
She blinked. "You're crazy. But…wow. I can't believe you're that off."
I managed a shaky smile. "I just had to draw it. Once."
"Your father was kicked out of this city by the Milton. You don't want that, trust me," She said with merciful eyes, holding my hand.
"It won't happen to me, trust me," I said in a comforting voice
I laughed, "Barely got past security. I switched clothes in an empty lounge."
She looked at me with equal parts amazement and worry. "You're fearless and crazy. I love it, but don't do it again, okay?"