No one warned me that being chosen would feel like this.
They all think it's luck.That's the funny part.
I'm standing in a room I don't belong in, holding a glass I don't know how to drink from, surrounded by people who look like they were born knowing where to stand. The walls are marble. The air smells expensive. Everyone here has a last name that matters.
And somehow, I'm here too.
I can feel it before I see it—the shift. Conversations stutter. Laughter thins. Eyes move.
Toward me.
It starts subtle. A glance held too long. Someone whispering my name like they've already practiced it. A woman in black silk watches me the way you'd watch a crack in ice.
I shouldn't be here. That much is obvious.
"You're early," a voice says behind me.
I turn.
He's taller than I expect. Dark suit, no tie. The kind of calm that doesn't come from kindness—only confidence. His eyes flick over me once, fast and assessing, like I'm a problem he didn't plan for.
"I was invited," I say, lifting my chin.
A pause.
Then—interest.
"Were you?" he asks.
Before I can answer, someone else steps in. A man with a smile sharp enough to cut glass.
"Careful," he says lightly. "She's the reason we're all here tonight."
I freeze.
The first man looks back at me, slower this time. Something unreadable passes through his expression.
"What did you do?" he asks.
"I didn't do anything," I say.
That's when the woman in black finally speaks.
"Oh, sweetheart," she murmurs, meeting my eyes at last."You really don't know yet, do you?"
The lights dim.The doors lock.And somewhere in the room, a phone buzzes.
I look down at mine.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:Run.