Chapter 37: The Shadow in the Corner
Liam sat in the deepest corner of the VIP lounge, the amber liquid in his glass catching the faint, bruised purple light of the room. He looked like a man who had just walked out of a wreckage—which, in a way, he had. The silence of the Sterling mansion, the entitled screeching of Sandra, and the weight of his father's failing health had pursued him here, settling on his shoulders like lead. He didn't want to be entertained; he wanted to be numb. He stared at the far wall, his mind a chaotic loop of board meetings and broken promises. To him, the music was just noise, and the perfume of the club was a suffocating cloud.
"She's coming on now, Liam," David whispered from the edge of the booth, his eyes on the stage. "The one they all talk about. The one in red."
Liam didn't even turn his head. "They're all the same, David. Different hair, different dresses, same rehearsed smiles. I should have stayed in the office." He took a long, slow sip of his scotch, the burn in his throat the only thing that felt real. He felt a profound sense of isolation, a billionaire sitting in a room full of people yet feeling entirely alone in the world. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to conjure the image of the waitress from the bistro—the only person who had looked at him with genuine, unscripted emotion in months. But the image was slippery, fading into the darkness of his own frustration.
The music changed. It wasn't the frantic, pounding beat of the main floor; it was a slow, mournful cello that seemed to weep into the room. Liam felt a strange prickle at the back of his neck. He slowly raised his head, his gaze drifting toward the small, circular stage in the center of the VIP area.
And then, he saw her.