Page 137 of Terror Tuesday

Hosts lead us from the front door to the party, where the entry is filled with students, board members, and prominent members of the community.

Holding on to Valen’s arm, I glide into the extravagant ballroom, lights glittering against crystal chandeliers, casting fractured rainbows across the polished marble floor. Guests twirl in masks and gowns, laughter bubbling over the quiet hum of orchestral music.

When Valen taps my hand with his finger and nods across the room, my heart pounds faster, each beat echoing loudly in my ears. The president stands among a crowd, including my father.

“I’ll grab the drinks,” I whisper.

He nods subtly, eyes hidden beneath his fierce mask. “Careful…” As he turns away, he murmurs low in my ear. “I love you.”

The bartender seems rushed when I approach. I recognize him from previous university parties. He was the same one complaining about rich people the day I met Elliot. And he doesn’t appear any happier now.

“Yeah?”

Leaning gracefully against the counter, I flash him my best smile. “Hi! Could I please have a champagne?”

As if he’s preventing himself from rolling his eyes, he grabs a flute and pours the bubbly in it, then sets it in front of me expectantly. I reach into my cleavage for the cash rolled around the vial… His supposed tip.

“Oh! And can you pour me a second one, too? I’ll take it to the president.”

His eyes dart across the room, not to the group of high society people that I’d think he would check out. No. When I glance at where he’s looking, it’s toward Valen.

“Certainly,” he says, turning around momentarily to grab a fresh crystal flute and a new bottle. My pulse spikes.

Monitoring my surroundings, I pour the poison into the champagne. The liquid vanishes seamlessly into the glass while I stuff the vial back into my dress and slide the cash onto the bar top.

The bartender faces me, setting the second flute on the golden counter. As I go to pick it up, he points over my shoulder toward a commotion. Aiden’s strolling into the room, looking infuriated by something. But he confidently walks across the floor and shakes the president’s hand.

“He gonna give me more of a tip than this?” the bartender says, holding up the twenty between his fingers.

I take the flutes in my hands and shrug. “No.”

Before I can move away, a sudden eruption of laughter nearby startles me, drawing my attention. I’m on edge. Anxiety is at an all-time high, but I fake the confidence I need. Shoulders back and breathe deep.

Like a queen.

President Harvey stands apart from the crowd as he watches guests behind a sleek black mask. His gaze meets mine, coldly calculating as I step closer.

“Miss Cardell,” he greets me, voice dripping with velvet-coated menace. “You look radiant.”

“Thank you, sir.” My grin strains under tension. I lift the flute toward him. “I brought you this. Thought you might like a drink.”

His lips curl into a subtle smile. “Mr. Cardell, your daughter has been an exceptional devotee to the cause.”

“Yes, she has always been a true zealot for not just Greek Life here, but Northview University itself,” Dad answers, slyly leaving out any mention of the gods andCaliphylla.

President Harvey drops his voice and steps closer to my right shoulder, still holding his poisoned drink. “I trust things are progressing?”

My throat constricts, but I force a swallow. “Of course. It’s, um, likely going to happentonight.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Valen Von Dovish has become…problematic. Do your part, Olivia, and swiftly.” He nods to my father, then to me. “For both your sakes.”

Ice floods my veins at his thinly veiled threat, determination solidifying within me. Just as I raise my glass to clink it against his, someone abruptly bumps into me, sending both my drink and the president’s crashing onto the polished floor.

Furious, I whirl around, ready to snap, and freeze instantly as I stare into a masked face.

“Valen!” I gasp, panic rising. The president’s eyes widen, shock quickly replaced by barely concealed anger.

Valen seizes my elbow gently but firmly. “Apologies, Mr. President. My clumsiness, I’m afraid.”