Passing by? Rupert, a man who barely had time to breathe between meetings, just happened to be passing by?


    Yeah, right. Clearly, he''s here for Bridget.


    Bridget''s casual mention of their shared route was no ident. She wanted everyone to know just how close she and Rupert were - a subtle demand for respect from the crowd. And it worked like a charm.


    "Rupert and Bridget are the picture of love," someone cooed.


    "Absolutely, a match made in heaven. They''re the envy of us all."


    Just then, Sylvia entered, pushing the door open with a grace that immediately caught everyone''s attention. The room, filled with alumni who had since be stars in their own right, couldn''t help but stare. Their gazes lingered on her from head to toe - some discreet, while others tantly ogled.


    Sylvia, aware of the unwritten rules of this inner circle, nodded politely and made a beeline for the principal.


    "Principal."


    The principal, with a weing smile, gestured to the gathering. "Now that we''re all here, let''s take our seats. Mr. Rupert Garcia, this way, please."


    As Rupert moved past Sylvia, an icy draft seemed to follow him, making her involuntarily clench her fists.


    Bridget, Rupert''s fiancée, naturally took her ce by his side, second only to the principal in terms of status. She then took it upon herself to direct Sylvia to a seat among the guests.


    "Sylvia, these gentlemen are distinguished alumni of our school. Sitting with them will be a great opportunity for you to learn."


    Sylvia wanted to refuse but found herself pulled into a seat by one of the men.


    "Don''t be shy, my dear. We''ll take good care of you," he said, his tone a mix of condescension and sleaze.


    The idea of being called "dear" by men who had graduated decades


    before her was more than a little ufortable. Before she knew she was surrounded, with no chance of changing seats. Trying to


    ove


    Fet


    maintain herposure under their greasy gazes, Sylvia sat


    up


    straighter.


    At the head of the table, Bridget sipped her coffee, smiling at Sylvia - seemingly harmless, but with eyes as venomous as a spider''s, trapping Sylvia in an ufortable web Sitting there, Sylvia braced herself for what was toe.


    The dinner inevitably turned towards drinking. The principal raised a toast to Rupert, kicking off the drinking culture typical of such gatherings.


    When it was Bridget''s turn, she nced at Rupert and said apologetically, "Rupert prefers I don''t drink. The rest of you can drink with Sylvia. She doesn''t have anyone to watch over her like I do."


    Her words were a clear signal to the others that Sylvia was fair game. Everyone nced at Rupert, his aura unapproachable, and then quickly turned their attention to Sylvia.


    Sylvia could handle beer, but spirits were a different story; just the smell was enough to turn her stomach.


    She was about to decline when a ss filled to the brim with clear liquid was thrust in front of her.


    "You wouldn''t want to disappoint us, would you?" one of the men pressed.


    "Sylvia, it''s okay. We''re all part of the samemunity. It''s good to get to know each other," Bridget said softly, her tone at odds with the message she was sending. Bullets weren''t hitting her, so she couldn''t feel the pain. Sylvia bit her lip, scanning the room for any ally.


    The principal, already tipsy after


    several rounds, was out of the


    equation. The others, upon catching Sylvia''s desperate look, quickly. turned away, clearly unwilling to


    intervene against the influential trio


    pressuring her to drink.


    Those three, not only famous but notoriously temperamental, were known for their cliquish behavior and for ostracizing anyone who dared to oppose them.


    Finally, Sylvia''s eyes met Rupert''s. He casually leaned back,ncing back at her with a look of mocking amusement in his deep eyes.


    Sylvia knew he was waiting for her to ask for his help...