The House of Blue
Amber held the gimbal-mounted smartphone steady, her face glowing under the soft, professional ring lights installed throughout the lobby. She checked the viewer count—twelve thousand and climbing.
"Welcome, everyone, to the official grand opening of House of Blue," Amber said into the camera, her voice smooth and welcoming. "You've all been asking to see the finished interior, and today, we're finally pulling back the curtain on the ultimate Trace Progressive luxury experience."
She turned the camera to reveal a sprawling sanctuary of cobalt marbles, velvet accents, and floor-to-ceiling glass that looked out over a private garden. The salon wasn't just a place for hair, nails, and the ultimate self-care indulgences; it was a tranquil marvel for the eyes.
"We believe self-care is the backbone of having a healthy, productive, fulfilled life," Amber continued, walking toward a group of guests sipping champagne and mojitos. "And today isn't just about the elite. We're here to meet some of the Trace family—the winners of our community outreach giveaway who won full House of Blue service packages."
The camera focused on a man in a large leather massage chair, his eyes closed as he enjoyed a soothing treatment while his feet soaked in a light blue solution. "As you can see, it is not just about women finding that healthy balance. We purposely chose ten men and ten women from our community. Self-care is for all of us."
As Amber interviewed a tearful young woman who had never experienced this kind of luxury, the comments on the screen scrolled at a dizzying speed. Most were hearts and fire emojis, but one username—S.M.III—simply posted a single blue heart and a message: "The lighting suits you perfectly, my love. Almost there." Gloria, Amber's assistant, frowned as she monitored the feed. She paused, reading the comment twice. A chill ran down her spine. Should she reply to such a creepy remark, or report it to the new guards who were perpetually trailing her boss now? Before she could decide, the viewer count alert pinged—they had just hit one million live viewers. Gloria was instantly swamped, the flood of comments forcing the "S.M.III" message off the screen. Maybe Amber was right; they needed a dedicated social media team just to manage the sheer volume of the Trace empire's reach.
Amber moved to a man with a wide smile sitting upright in a chair that resembled a throne. A young stylist was intently massaging his temples. He gave a thumbs up to the lens. "When my wife entered me into this, I thought she was insane. Why would a construction worker need a spa day? I'm so glad she ignores me. And thank you, Trace Progressive, for allowing us to bring a guest so she could benefit from this as well."
The comments exploded. "You mean they gave 40 people free luxury spa days?! 🤯"
Gloria smiled as she typed a rapid response: "That is the Trace Progressive and Blue Serene way. Family and friends are vital to your peace and mental health."
Six miles away, the train hissed to a halt at the central station. Sebastian Montague III stepped onto the platform, his designer coat slightly rumpled but his posture as rigid as an aristocrat's. He didn't look like a threat; he looked like a man returning from an expensive, well-deserved vacation.
He walked with confident purpose to the long-term parking garage, reaching into his pocket for a key fob he hadn't pressed in years. The lights of a silver vintage Mercedes chirped in the shadows. As the convertible top retracted, he tossed his three designer bags into the back as if they were mundane burdens. He sat behind the wheel, the smell of aged leather greeting him like an old friend—unbidden memories swamped him like a flash flood into a dry town.
He didn't need a GPS. He knew exactly where the Blue Serene Lake Resort was. He had studied the maps until they were etched into both his retinas and the folds of his gray matter.
At the resort gate, he didn't even slow down. The sensor read the "Founder's Circle" membership sticker on his windshield—a legacy tier that had never been used but remained eternally active. Years ago, he had invested heavily into the resort, and his wonderful Amber Ann had—with her usual generosity—personally presented him with the membership. He smiled at the false perception, one formulated by his own long-term manipulations, as the gate arm lifted to grant him entrance.
He drove around the lake, following the signs to the Blue Trace Villas Sanctuary. An eyebrow rose as he drove under the arch and into the dense woods. "A bit crude," he murmured. "Evidently, they didn't let Amber Ann design this entrance."
He passed the main lodge and pulled up to Villa 4, a secluded stone-and-wood structure tucked away from the tourist paths. He nodded in approval. "I can see my love's delicate hand here."
He entered the door code and stepped inside. The air smelled of cedar, fresh flowers, and expensive linen. A welcome basket sat on the counter, overflowing with artisanal drinks, fruits, and cheeses. He didn't bring in his bags yet; he had a far more important task.
He walked to the bedside table and carefully placed the beaded frame of Amber so she was facing the pillows. He then pulled out his tablet, reopening the live stream. Amber was on screen, smiling broadly as she showcased the salon. Sebastian beamed with pride, listening to her tranquil, steady voice.
"House of Blue," he whispered, his voice thick with a terrifying sort of tenderness. "I think I'll like it here, Amber Ann. It's exactly the kind of home we talked about."
The villa bell rang, and a look of intense, dangerous anger flashed across Sebastian's face. He composed himself instantly, his features shifting into a mask of polite warmth just as the door swung open.
Brandon Crisps' smiling face greeted him. "Mr. Montague? I am Brandon from Crisps' Dairy. I have your dairy delivery."
Sebastian smiled broadly. "You are right on time, Mr. Crisps. I greatly appreciate that."
Brandon beamed. "Of course, sir. I will be here at 7:00. We can start tomorrow's tour at the bakery for an early breakfast."
"Fantastic!" Sebastian calmed even more as he took in the dairy owner's features. He endured a moment more of pleasantries and slowly shut the door as Brandon walked away oblivious to any danger.
Sebastian took the dairy products to the kitchen, his eyes returning to the tablet screen where Amber was still live. "I will make sure that these people you brought into our lives are no threat to you. Then, we will run our empire together. I am here, love... but wait just a bit longer. Everything must be perfect."