Page 136 of Ruthless Lullaby

And I can’t let my stupid emotions get in the way of that.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Mindy

I step out of the elevator at Belmont Hotel, stunned by the luxury of this place.

The lobby that leads to the Silver Room is dripping with opulence – sparkling chandeliers, expensive paintings covering the walls, and a grand fountain in the middle that squirts water as high as the third floor. The fountain is surrounded by several doormen waiting for their next task, and over a dozen security guards looking like a special ops team, preparing to prevent the heist of the century.

I move past them and make my way down a corridor that seems to go on forever. The place reminds me of Maron’s house – an endless maze with rooms branching off left and right. It feels like I'm going deeper and deeper into the hotel's secret underbelly with every step.

When I finally reach the entrance to the Silver Room, I'm met by another group of stern-faced security guards. They meticulously search my handbag, shuffling through its contents with care. After taking my lipstick, nail clippers, and anything else they consider dangerous, a female security guard approaches and begins patting me down, checking for anything I might be hiding under my clothes. Drugs, knives, and rocket launchers maybe? Once she made sure that I’m not hiding any of those things, another guy walks up to me with a device that looks like a laser scanner, and holds it against my eyes. I’m unsurewhat I could be hiding inside my eyeballs, but he's taking his job very seriously. After finally finishing a series of security checks that make the ones at the airport look like a walk in the park, they finally let me go.

I scan the QR code on the badge Maron gave me and a guy at the door lets me in. The Silver Room is already buzzing with people. Maron's crew, mostly speaking Russian, are mingling with a lively energy. The socialites are laughing, their voices blending with the clinking of glasses as the wealthy guests casually sip their mocktails.

A charming waiter greets me, "Welcome to the Silver Room, madam. Your complimentary welcome drink - alcohol-free champagne."

That’s right. The main rule for tonight is zero tolerance for alcohol. It is strictly forbidden while taking Tramoxine. All the guests here will get to experience the wonders of this magic pill firsthand.

Maron explained this ‘no-booze rule’ to me several times, each time with such animation and enthusiasm that it was like seeing an entirely new side of him. His passion for Tramoxine is undeniable.

Not that I’d want to drink tonight anyway. Ever since my miscarriage, my health hasn’t been the best. I still get nauseous occasionally, and my appetite swings from barely there to non-existent. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was still pregnant, but that’s obviously impossible. Maron has been incredibly kind to me through it all. He’s arranged for the best private doctors to take care of me, making sure I’m okay - even though I keep assuring him that I am.

What no doctor can fix is my mood. I'm still grieving the loss of my baby, and most nights, I cry myself to sleep. The only thing that keeps me going is having Maron next to me. We sleep wrapped up in each other's arms, his presence being my only solace. Every night, he kisses me all over, and I spoil him in return. We find comfort in our shared intimacy. We even have careful, passionate sex. Despite the lingering pain, I still love feeling him inside of me.

I grab a few bites from a passing tray and snag another drink from a different waiter before finding a spot in the corner to sit and people-watch.

As I scan the crowded room, my eyes land on Timofey, Maron's brother. He is chatting with a girl clearly smitten by him, giggling at everything he says. I got to know Timofey as a laid-back guy, and it's nice to see him hitting it off with someone.

Pavel is nowhere to be seen, but that's not surprising. He's always glued to Maron's side, ready to do whatever the big boss needs.

Then, I spot the one person I wasn’t looking forward to seeing. Maron mentioned he’d be here tonight, and I’ve already decided I’d do everything I can to avoid talking to him. Maybe just a quick ‘hello,’ and that’s it.

Maurice.

I catch a glimpse of him from across the room, looking all suave and put together in his custom-tailored suit. He’s talking to a woman too, probably laying on the charm like he always does. Good for him, I guess. I’m just relieved I don’t have to be the one making small talk with him.

Yet still, seeing Maurice here makes my stomach churn with anxiety. He still doesn’t know that Maron and I are together, and we’d like to keep it that way for now. Maron and I discussed this and decided he would talk to Maurice after the event. Maurice was one of the main organizers, and Maron couldn’t afford to have him distracted from his job. Besides, we’re still healing; everything is fresh, and the last thing we need is Maurice sticking his nose into our still-fragile relationship.

Fortunately, the hall is teeming with people, giving me plenty of chances to steer clear of him. I can easily slip into the crowd and remain unnoticed. With so many faces around, losing myself in the sea of guests is almost effortless.

I relax into my quiet little corner, observing the party as it unfolds. But just as I’m starting to feel at ease, my phone vibrates inside my clutch. I retrieve it, fully expecting a message from Maron, who’s likely still in the Silver Room, either giving interviews or mingling with VIPs. But when I glance at the screen, my eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

The message is from Alexis.

We haven't talked since she stormed into New York High and screamed at me in front of Maron. She didn’t even come to visit me at the hospital, even though Betty told her I was taken in as an emergency. My sister's indifference still hurts, but I try not to think about it too much.

Her message contains just a link. No text. Strange. With a furrowed brow, I tap on the link, and the moment the page loads, I shoot up from my seat, my hand flying to cover my mouth.

It's a live broadcast on StarDust TV, the gossip channel everyone in the country is obsessed with. The headline flasheson the screen, and it feels like a punch to the gut: “BREAKING NEWS - Illegal drug Tramoxine set to hit the shelves.”

What in the everloving fuck is this?

My sister is on screen, holding a microphone, speaking into it.

"Good evening. This is an urgent broadcast, live here in New York City. We've just uncovered alarming information about a new illegal drug called Tramoxine, which poses a grave threat to public health and safety. This highly addictive substance is being produced and distributed by criminal organizations. Stay tuned for updates on this developing story."

My face drains of color as I watch this crap. The screen briefly cuts back to Alexis, just for a moment, as she interviews Maron. His expression shifts from neutral to furious, like a storm darkening across his features.

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