The Evening Soiree that was missed

As Myra nestled between her two favorite people, she quickly shot Xavier a text saying she had things to do and she wouldn't be coming home tonight. Without even waiting for a response, she turned off her phone. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation from him, demanding her to return, seeing how he wanted her to stay in his house. She needed space - time apart from him and from everything that had happened in the past week or so. She needed room to think and plan out her steps carefully, fearing she might step on the wrong toes. 

"I need money." Myra suddenly declared, while munching on a handful of potato chips. 

"Ugh, I wish I weren't broke." Gracie groaned, as she sprawled out on the couch holding a throw pillow over her face. 

"All this house, and no money." Sarah lamented, shaking her head as she gazed out at the large beautiful apartment of hers. 

Unfortunately for the three of them, they weren't exactly overflowing with financial opportunities. Sarah Steinberg was a shunned family member of the great Steinberg family. Although they gave her the luxurious apartment that she was living in, which was not from the goodness of their heart but rather so she never stepped foot inside their main mansion. Sarah had no money to her name and was truly in the mercy of the Steinberg family. Sarah sometimes was desperate to get out of the family, but her mother Sylvia during her final moments, asked her to stay with the Steinberg as least till she graduated college. Sylvia wanted the best for her daughter, and knowing how poorly they lived, she also knew her daughter would have to fend off for herself all alone. At least having the last name of Steinberg would provide a roof over her head, food to eat and a warm bed to sleep, was Sylvia's thoughts. But Sylvia would never know how much Scarlett would humiliate Sarah on every occasion and the torment she lived with everyday. 

Graceline Sinclair, or as Myra and Sarah would call, Gracie was from a political background. Her grandfather Benjamin Sinclair was the 68th president of the country, and her father Benjamin Sinclair Junior was a constitutional lawyer, whereas her mother Gina Sinclair was a criminal defense lawyer. Gracie however was the black sheep of the family, refusing to go to law school, ultimately being written off the family registry. Fortunately for her, her grandfather left her a sizable trust fund, which unfortunately, she would only get full access to on her thirtieth birthday. She still had a decade left to reaching thirty but she was allowed a stipend which she had been using it to pay for her place and food, while living alone thus far. 

For a moment, the three of them sat in silence, each contemplating their respective situations. 

"I could start a YouTube channel," Gracie suggested, perking up. 

Sarah snorted. "What kind of content? 'How to be fabulously broke'?" 

Myra chuckled. "No, no, she could do day-in-the-life of a broke heiress. She'd actually be really good at that." 

"Haha!" Grace sarcastically said and added, "Or Myra, you could be my first visitor to my channel and I would call it, 'From Rags to ... Still Rags'!" 

Sarah burst out laughing. "Great title. Super inspiring." 

"Well, do you have a better idea?" Gracie challenged. 

Sarah tapped her chin. "We could sell stuff online. Old clothes, vintage things. People love vintage." 

"I barely have anything left to sell," Myra sighed. "Most of my stuff went when ... well, you know." 

"I wish I could sell this apartment. Take the money and run." Sarah sadly added. 

The mood dipped momentarily, the weight of the past was starting to press down on them. Gracie, sensing the shift, quickly changed the subject, looking over to Myra, "Wait, where have you been staying since signing those papers? You never told us." 

Sarah leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. "Yeah. Where exactly does Xavier Westwood keep his ...wife?" 

Myra shrugged nonchalantly. "At his place." 

Gracie gasped dramatically. "So, a billionaire's mansion. Tell me, does the Westwood have gold-plated toilets?" 

"More importantly," Sarah cut in, her voice low, "did anything happen between you two?" 

Myra's hand froze mid-reach for another chip. "Happen?" 

Sarah wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "You know. Between you and Mr. Tall, Dark, Super Rich and Handsome?" 

"Nothing happened," Myra said too quickly, turning her attention back to the chips. Myra thought of the kiss and thought it should best be kept to herself, her ears was turning red and she could feel it. Thankfully, her long hair hid her red ears so the two didn't notice. 

Gracie narrowed her eyes. "Why do you look suspicious if nothing happened." 

"I do not look suspicious. And nothing truly happened." Myra protested, popping a chip into her mouth. Hoping they would stop questioning her. 

Sarah and Gracie exchanged glances before Sarah grinned. 

"Fine, if you say so." 

The conversation shifted to something heavier, the air suddenly felt weighed down by something unspoken as Sarah began hesitantly. "Myra." 

"We haven't really ... talked about it. About your dad." 

Myra stiffened, the lightness from before vanishing. "I don't want to talk about it." 

Gracie frowned. "But, Myra, you haven't even cried -" 

"Can we please not talk about it." Myra's voice was firm, final and she really had no desire to discuss this. It was as if she was in denial. 

A silence settled over the room, it was uncomfortable and filled with things left unsaid. Sarah tried to open her mouth to say something but Gracie seeing her, interjected motioning to Sarah to back down. "Okay. We won't push you to talk." 

Sarah followed suit and added, "But just so you know, we're here whenever you do want to talk." 

Myra gave them a small smile and the heavy atmosphere finally lifted from the room. "Thanks, guys." 

Gracie nudged Sarah, and said she was getting all of them some takeout, they debated over takeout options before finally settling on Chinese food. They ordered enough to feed a small army and sprawled out in front of the TV, watching mindless Netflix shows until they drifted into a comfortable, food-induced haze. 

********* 

Meanwhile, across the city, in the grand Westwood estate, the evening soiree was in full swing in the lush outdoor garden. 

Despite being outside, the setting was nothing short of extravagant. Crystal chandeliers hung from elegantly placed iron fixtures, the warm glow of the lights casting a soft, golden hue over the well-manicured hedges, marble pathways, and a luxurious seating arrangements. Tables draped in silk tablecloths were adorned with the finest crystal glasses and delicately places hors d'oeuvres, while a live orchestra played gentle classical music, adding to the opulence of the night. 

Despite all the elegance, there was one man who stood near the edge of the garden, brooding. Xavier, was swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand, uninterested in the conversation that was going on. His attention was elsewhere as he pulled his phone from his pocket and checked it for the umpteen time. 

Myra's short text was all he kept going back to. 

"Won't be home." 

"I have things to do." 

He had immediately dialed her number but it went straight to voicemail. 

He kept checking his phone to see if perhaps she had called him back or left him another message. 

Nothing. 

His jaws clenched. His grip on the glass tightened as irritation flickered in his sharp eyes. 

"Xavier, dear." 

He turned to see his mother, Olivia Westwood in a beautiful blue sequin gown, approaching him gracefully. She looked at him expectantly. "Where is Myra?" 

"She wasn't feeling well," he said smoothly, masking his irritation. 

Olivia arched a delicate brow, her beautiful features prominent, "How unfortunate. I wanted her to meet some of my friends." 

"She'll be at the next event." Xavier assured her. 

His mother gave a knowing smile. "See that she is." And with that, she turned away, gliding back into the crowd. 

Across the garden, the Westwood cousins were huddled together, whispering to themselves. 

"She's not even here?", Regina snickered. 

"Probably too scared to show her face." Vanessa added fuel to the fire. "What did I tell you? She doesn't belong here. And she never will." 

"And who's fault is that?" Ridley spoke up, irritation directed toward Vanessa. 

"What is that suppose to mean?", Regina asked confused. 

"If you don't shut your mouth and get me another drink, I will hurt you." Vanessa nastily retorted. 

Ridley just stared angrily back at his sister for a moment and left. 

"What was that about?", Regina pressed on. 

"Oh don't mind him. You know how Ridley is sometimes, he has taken a soft spot for the charity case it seems." Vanessa cheekily responded. 

Xavier's gaze flickered to them, but he said nothing. Instead, his downed the rest of his whiskey, his mind reoccupied with something or someone else entirely. 

Ridley approached him and was about to say something, but Xavier was in no mood to hear it. "Can we talk about it later.", Xavier almost growled. 

Ridley was taken aback, he had never seen his cousin, in a gathering, not be his perfect self and least of all, it looked as if he was about to lose his temper. 

As the night drew on, Xavier was feeling so lackluster, he excused himself early, and headed back to his room. He obviously didn't expect her to see her there but he had somehow hoped that she would magically appear. 

The space beside him was empty and the bed was cold. She had spent only one night here thus far, but he hated to admit it, without her here, it felt ... off. 

He ran a hand through his hair, pinched his nose bridge and sighed heavily into the silent room. 

Where was she? 

And why did it bother him this much?