Gemotions

The invitation felt heavy in Elara’s hand, a crisp white card mocking her. She ran a thumb over the raised lettering: "Cocktail Evening – Sponsored by Aethelred Industries." Liam had been insistent, practically begging her to come. He’d described Aethelred as a powerhouse, the kind of place where careers were forged. Her stomach churned.

She arrived at the venue, a sleek, modern gallery, and scanned the crowd, seeking Liam's familiar face. Her palms were slick. Why had he been so cagey about the details of his job, the company? He’d always just said "finance," vaguely.

Finally, she spotted him, impeccably dressed, chatting animatedly with two impeccably dressed men. As she approached, her breath hitched. Liam turned, his smile faltering. He introduced her as… his “friend.” The men, with their polished shoes and even more polished smiles, nodded politely. Aethelred Industries wasn't a finance firm. It was a weapons manufacturer.