The bass was a heartbeat beneath her feet, a deep, pulsing thrum that made the floor vibrate with every drop of the track. The scent of perfume and cologne mixed with whiskey and sweat, thick in the air, as bodies swayed under shifting neon lights. Red. Gold. Blue. The colors moved over the crowd like waves, catching on sequins, wet lips, and the sharp glint of jewelry.
Vivian Jiang stepped past the velvet rope into the VIP section, and immediately, she felt the difference.
This wasn’t her world.
She only flickered through its edges, an occasional visitor tethered to Serena’s orbit. But even now, it was obvious—she didn’t belong here.
She didn’t have the look.
The women in the VIP section were stunning, wrapped in silk and velvet, their skin gleaming under the dim lighting. Serena’s friends, girlfriends of mid-level men, maybe a few who had their own sway in Black Lotus. They were painted in confidence—smoky eyes, red lips, heels that made their legs look endless.
Vivian, by contrast, wore the soft cream sweater Serena had made her put on, her fitted jeans hugging her legs but nothing close to the slinky, thigh-baring dresses around her. She wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. But she felt like a misplaced puzzle piece.
She passed a group of younger guys near the corner booth—probably new to the scene, probably just starting to prove themselves. They gave her the once-over, eyes lingering a beat too long on the exposed slope of her collarbone. One of them straightened as if he was about to approach.
Then someone nudged him and muttered, That’s Serena’s cousin.
Vivian didn’t hear the exact words, but she caught the shift—the way the guy immediately dropped his gaze and turned back to his drink, like he hadn’t even been looking in the first place.
She exhaled slowly.
She knew what she was to this world: untouchable, but not because she held any power of her own. Only because Serena and Vince had made it clear she was off-limits.
And speaking of men who thought too highly of themselves—
“So, what do you do?” she asked, half out of boredom, half out of politeness.
The guy in front of her, all slicked-back hair and expensive watch, smirked like she had walked straight into a trap. “Business.”
She blinked. “Oh. What kind of business?”
His smirk widened. “Business.”
Vivian nearly rolled her eyes. Try-hard idiot.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
He kept talking, but she was done listening. Instead, she let her gaze wander—past the lounging men with cigars, past the waitresses in black satin carrying bottle service, past the murmured conversations that weren’t meant for outsiders.
And then she saw him.
For a second, she thought she had imagined it.
Noah Fang.
The Noah she knew—the one who sat two rows away from her in Advanced Probability & Game Theory, the one who matched her in every academic challenge, who argued proofs with her until their professor had to cut them off—that Noah didn’t belong here.
But the man across the club, the one moving through the crowd with a quiet, effortless kind of command—he wasn’t the Noah she knew.
His glasses were gone. His sharp eyes, deep-set and dark under the shifting club lights, scanned the room with a kind of quiet awareness. His black dress shirt clung to his frame, sleeves rolled just enough to expose the lean muscle in his forearms. There was no hesitation in the way he moved, no trace of the friendly, ever-smiling golden boy of their class.
He wasn’t just here.
He fit.
Vivian watched as he exchanged words with a man near the bar—someone older, someone she recognized in the vague way that came from years of brushing against Serena’s world without fully stepping into it. She didn’t know his name, but she knew enough. He mattered.
They spoke briefly, and then Noah tilted his head, smirked, and clapped the man on the shoulder before disappearing back into the sea of bodies.
A chill crawled up her spine.
That wasn’t the Noah she knew.
She exhaled slowly, shaking off the unsettled feeling creeping at the edges of her thoughts.
And then—
“Viv!”
Serena.
Vivian barely had time to react before Serena threw her arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. The scent of jasmine and vanilla wrapped around her, familiar and warm.
Serena Lau had always been beautiful, in the kind of way that drew attention without effort. Her long, jet-black hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, styled in soft, effortless waves that made her look like she had stepped out of a high-fashion editorial. The deep red of her satin dress hugged her body, the slit at the thigh revealing just enough to make people look twice. She had a presence—something effortless in the way she moved, like she owned whatever room she walked into.
“You look gorgeous, little nerd,” Serena teased, pulling back just enough to scan her with approving eyes. “I knew that sweater would look amazing on you.”
Vivian smirked. “You act like I usually wear a potato sack.”
Serena shrugged. “You’re the one who insists on dressing like an exhausted grad student 24/7.”
Vivian rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Happy birthday.”
“Much better,” Serena said, beaming. Then, suddenly, she grabbed Vivian’s hand. “Come here, I need to tell you something.”
Before Vivian could ask, Serena was already waving someone over.
Vince.
Vince was the kind of man who never needed to raise his voice to command attention. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his suit crisp and perfectly tailored to his frame. His sharp jawline was dusted with the hint of stubble, and his dark eyes—always watchful, always calculating—took in every detail of the room without ever seeming distracted.
Vivian had known him forever. He had been there when her parents died. When she and Serena had practically raised themselves in the absence of any real guardian. Vince had looked out for them, had stepped up when no one else did.
Now, he was a mid-level figure in Black Lotus, running a successful karaoke bar—one of many fronts. He had power, real power, the kind that made people careful around him.
“Guess what?” Serena said, practically bouncing on her heels.
Vivian tilted her head. “What?”
Serena lifted her hand, flashing an engagement ring.
Vivian blinked. Then her face split into a smile. “Wait—really?”
“Really,” Serena confirmed, eyes bright with excitement.
Vince let out a small, knowing chuckle. “I finally got her to say yes.”
Vivian hugged Serena first, then Vince, feeling a rare warmth spread through her chest. “Congratulations. Both of you.”
Serena squeezed her tight before pulling back. “And don’t even think about slipping away without celebrating properly. I know you—”
“I have tests next week,” Vivian interrupted, amused.
Serena groaned. “Viv, you always have tests.”
“And you always have birthdays.”
“Not this one,” Serena said, nudging her playfully. “This is my last one before I’m officially someone’s wife.”
Vince rested a hand on Serena’s lower back, subtle but firm.
“She’s serious about keeping you out of all this, you know,” he said.
Vivian nodded. “I know.”
Serena sighed, shaking her head. “You and your damn books.”
Vivian smirked. “And yet, you love me.”
“Unfortunately,” Serena teased, looping an arm around her shoulders.
The night stretched on, but eventually, Vivian checked the time. It was late.
“I should get back. I have an early morning,” she said.
Serena pouted but nodded. “Fine. But I’m walking you out.”
They stepped outside, the night air crisp against Vivian’s skin. The city stretched around them—loud, sprawling, alive with neon and cigarette smoke.
Serena hugged her tightly, holding on longer than usual.
“Get home safe, okay?” Serena murmured.
“I always do,” Vivian said, squeezing back.
Serena pulled away, smiling. “Love you, nerd.”
Vivian rolled her eyes but smiled. “Love you too.”
She didn’t know this would be the last time.
She didn’t know she would never see Serena alive again.