The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 57: [Volume 1] - 57- Trapped.

Chapter 57: [Volume 1] Chapter 57- Trapped.

"Damn it!" Esme cursed under her breath, instinctively grabbing the fabric of her dress in a vain attempt to wipe the deep red stain spreading across her front. Her heart sank as she realized how glaringly visible the stain was against the pristine white.

The man who had bumped into her, Beto, stood frozen for a moment, his face flushed with embarrassment. "I’m so, so sorry!" he blurted, quickly pulling out a tissue from his pocket and offering it to her in a hurried gesture. His hands fumbled nervously as he tried to help.

Esme caught his flustered gaze and, despite her frustration, couldn’t bring herself to be angry. "It’s okay," she said, her voice calm but tight as she dabbed at the spreading stain with the tissue. "It happens." She gave him a small smile, trying to reassure him as best as she could, but her focus was already on the mess she needed to clean up.

Beto, visibly relieved but still anxious, stepped back as Esme made her way into the washroom. Inside, the fluorescent lights were harsh against the stark white walls, casting a clinical glow over the room. She stood in front of the mirror, eyeing the wine stain that had only grown worse. She muttered under her breath, "Damn it..." as she attempted to blot it out with water. But the more she scrubbed, the deeper the stain seemed to set, leaving a faint pinkish smear behind.

With a sigh of frustration, Esme slipped out of her coat, hoping it would help cover the stain at least for the rest of the evening. She glanced at her phone, ready to text Ray for help, but when she raised it to check for service, there was no signal.

Great, just great, she thought, her irritation growing. She stuffed her phone back into her bag and stepped out of the bathroom, her mood considerably darker than when she had walked in.

As soon as she exited, she spotted Beto lingering awkwardly near the doorway, his face still painted with regret. His shoulders were slumped, and the apologetic look in his eyes was unmistakable. The moment he saw her, he bowed his head slightly, his voice soft and genuinely remorseful. "I’m really, really sorry for what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to..."

Esme waved her hand dismissively, trying to shake off the incident. "It’s okay, really," she said with a slight smile. "These things happen. No harm done."

She made to walk away, her eyes scanning the crowd for Ray, when a waiter suddenly stepped into her path. "Excuse me, ma’am," he called out, his voice polite yet firm.

Esme paused and turned back towards him, curiosity and slight annoyance mingling in her expression. "Yes?" she asked, her voice edged with the lingering frustration from her earlier ordeal.

But before the waiter could respond, Esme’s gaze drifted back to the crowd, her thoughts already swirling back to the stain on her dress and how long she could endure the rest of the evening with it.

As Esme turned to face the waiter, her frustration was evident. He extended a keycard toward her with a calm, reassuring smile. "I apologize for the inconvenience, ma’am. We have a room available for guests who need to change due to accidents like this. Here’s a keycard for one of our suites."

Esme eyed the card with skepticism. "I appreciate it, but I’m sure I can manage without it. It’s just a little wine."

The waiter’s smile remained steady, though a glint of insistence in his eyes suggested he wasn’t easily swayed. "I understand, ma’am. However, it’s available for your comfort and convenience. The room is well-maintained and has everything you might need."

After a moment of hesitation and seeing the red wine stain stark against her white dress, Esme sighed and accepted the keycard. "Alright, I’ll take it. Thanks."

The waiter gave a small, reassuring nod. "The suite is just down the hall. If you need any assistance, please let us know."

Esme made her way to the elevator, her irritation evident as she clutched the keycard. The doors slid open on her designated floor, and she followed the signs to the suite, eager to resolve the situation.

The suite door unlocked smoothly with the keycard, and Esme stepped inside. The room was quiet and unremarkable, with only basic furnishings: a bed, a small table, and a few chairs. Expecting to find a place to change, she was instead greeted by an unsettling stillness.

As she crossed the threshold, the door clicked shut behind her with an unexpected finality. A chill ran down her spine, but she brushed it off, attributing it to her growing unease.

Almost immediately, a wave of dizziness washed over her, and her vision began to blur. The air in the room grew thick with an overpowering, sweet fragrance, which seemed to seep from every corner. The scent was oddly cloying, and Esme found it difficult to breathe properly.

Her head spun, and she stumbled forward, struggling to stay upright. The room’s stark simplicity suddenly felt eerie, its emptiness amplifying her sense of isolation. The dizziness intensified, and Esme’s steps grew unsteady as she tried to find a way out.

Panic surged as she reached for the door, but her movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. The sweet smell grew more intense, wrapping around her like a heavy blanket. Her mind raced with confusion and fear as she tried to make sense of the situation.

As she slumped against the wall, her head pounding, Esme caught a glimpse of a small, faintly shimmering note on the table. With a great effort, she reached out for it, her fingers trembling. The note read: "Welcome to your private retreat. Rest easy; the party will wait."

Esme’s heart pounded as she tried to process the message. Her strength was failing, and she felt a growing sense of helplessness. The room, once a place of refuge, now seemed like a trap, its simplicity hiding a sinister purpose. As the dizziness overtook her, she slumped to the floor, her consciousness wavering as the sweet scent continued to envelop her.