Ned pushed open a heavy door, revealing an oppressively luxurious private booth so large it took one's breath away. Three walls were lined with opulent French-style sofas. The moment Sophie stepped in, her eyes landed on Archibald, who was lounging in the center with a woman on each arm—both dressed in provocative outfits, stunningly beautiful, laughing and drinking with him.
"Whoa, whoa, Ned, that's against the rules!" Archibald's expression was priceless the instant he saw Sophie. He never imagined his good brother Ned would break their sacred pact: "Never bring girlfriends or wives to the club."
"Are we clearing the room or what?" He threw up his hands dramatically. "Say something, man! You've got the rest of us hanging here—it's awkward as hell." The question was cleverly loaded.
Then he turned to Sophie with a smirk: "We only have real alcohol in here! No 0% cocktails, no soda, no milk, no mineral water—nothing."
The other men in the room all stood up. Every one of them looked like they belonged to money or power—or both.
"Clear the room? So we have to leave too?" Another man strolled over from the window, red wine glass in hand, eyebrow raised, his gaze burning into Sophie.
"Ned, you broke the rules bringing an outsider in. That means penalty drinks!" said a man in a sapphire-blue shirt, his shirt unbuttoned almost to the navel, revealing a broad expanse of chest muscle.
He slowly walked up to Sophie, leaned in close, stared straight into her eyes, then broke into a brazen, suggestive grin.
"Now that she's here, let her join the fun! Otherwise our girls are going to get jealous," purred one of the women in a tight red dress. She came forward, grabbed Ned's hand, and pulled him to the center of the sofa. Lazily, she cooed, "You're late today—penalty drink first!" With that, she lifted her glass to Ned's lips, trying to feed him the red wine.
Ned locked eyes with Sophie and, without breaking her gaze, drank the entire glass from the red-dressed woman's hand. Then he slammed the empty glass down and roared, "Let's drink till we drop tonight!"
In the booth, there had originally been six men and ten women. Most of the women were perched on the men's laps, arms draped around their necks. From time to time, a man would rest his head against a woman's chest or playfully squeeze her soft hips, drawing coquettish little murmurs and shy giggles in response.
And every one of these women was scorching hot, with flawless faces and perfect bodies. Some looked pure and innocent, some sultry and seductive, some icy and aloof, some with sharp, distinctive personalities… Sophie studied them carefully and realized they all seemed oddly familiar. After a few more glances, her eyes widened in shock: most of the women in the room were actually top-tier celebrities currently dominating the charts.
For example, the beauty sitting on the lap of the man in the sapphire-blue shirt was none other than the mega-star Mary. Sophie had just binged her latest drama a few weeks ago; it was still trending everywhere.
Seeing this scene, Sophie's face drained of color. She suddenly understood all too clearly: this was the real everyday life of these aristocratic tycoons. But she had never, ever imagined that Ned would bring her to a place like this…
Right now she was completely at a loss, unsure whether she should sit down or just bolt out the door. She could feel every woman in the room glancing at her, some openly, some subtly. Their eyes carried mockery, disdain, hostility, and rivalry; most of all, they were watching her like she was the evening's entertainment.
"I'm sorry, I need to use the restroom. Excuse me." Sophie just wanted to escape this suffocating den of decadence, this playground of debauchery built on piles of money.
"Mary, why don't you take her? Show our new little sister the way while you're at it. Thanks, babe," the man in the sapphire-blue shirt said with a smirk, his tone dripping with innuendo.
Mary stayed perched on his lap for a long moment, squirming lazily, before finally standing up with obvious reluctance. "Come on, little girl," she said without even glancing at Sophie, her voice cold and clipped as she pushed open the booth door.
Sophie stole one last look at Ned, who was laughing and drinking with the woman in red. Her pleading, helpless gaze went completely unnoticed by him. She could only lower her eyes and follow Mary out of the room.
"How on earth did you end up coming here with Ned?" Mary asked the moment they stepped into the restroom. She leaned both hands on the marble counter, watching Sophie turn on the faucet and splash cold water on her face. Her tone was icy and confrontational.
Sophie lifted her head, her face expressionless, refusing to answer. She gently patted her cheeks with both hands, trying to stay clear-headed. She still remembered how much she had adored this celebrity while bingeing her drama, but now, sharing the same restroom with her, all Sophie felt was disgust and hypocrisy.
"Tsk, still acting all high and mighty?" Mary turned sideways and glared at her. "I asked you a question. Why aren't you answering?"
Sophie remained silent. She pulled out a tissue and lightly dabbed the water droplets from her face, then stared into the mirror, her expression still blank.
"We're all the same. Every one of us wants to climb the ladder and marry into money. Don't think you're better than me just because you're putting on airs." Mary took out her lipstick and started touching up her makeup.
"Little sister, that woman in the red dress? She's Ned's favorite—Helen." After finishing her lips, Mary tossed the lipstick back into her clutch, turned, and headed for the door of the lavish restroom. "Let me give you a friendly warning: every woman in that room has her eyes on Ned. You… don't stand a chance." She flashed Sophie a sarcastic "no" hand gesture.
Sophie tilted her head back, staring up at the extravagant crystal chandelier overhead. "Do all of you come here every day?"
"So she does speak!" Mary paused mid-step, letting out a cold laugh, her eyes slanting sideways. "You came here with Ned—if you're so curious, why don't you ask him yourself?"
"I only asked because it's obvious you're all regulars," Sophie said, finally turning to look Mary straight in the eye. "Aren't you the famous star everyone loves? Why would you come to a place like this?"
"A place like this? What kind of place is this? Isn't it fabulous?" Mary sneered. "Aristocratic heirs and billionaires for the picking—I could change flavors every night if I felt like it."
"Don't look at me with those self-righteous eyes. You're no better than I am." She folded her arms across her chest, voice dripping with mockery. "We all want the same thing, so spare me the innocent act. If you're really that confident, let's see who wins Ned in the end."
Mary's words stabbed into Sophie's mind like needles. She understood all too clearly that this hedonistic, money-drenched "lifestyle" was the everyday reality for these aristocratic elites. Archibald was like this—so was Ned, no exception.
Sophie lowered her head and said nothing more. Mary had already walked out of the restroom.