C-2

"Driver, divert to Xxx Club now!"

"Where to, Ada?" the driver asked as the cab sliced through the neon night.

"Xxx Club—hurry up!" Ada replied, her voice edged with urgency. She gripped the phone tightly while her heart still danced with the thrill of an incoming paycheck. Just minutes earlier, the weight of crisp cash in her bag had promised a reprieve from eviction, a lifeline against the landlord's threats. But that buoyant feeling was now under siege by an unwelcome caller.

Her phone's display glowed with the words Big Bro. Ada's stomach knotted. The persistent robotic chime from Siri announced, "Incoming call from Big Bro." With a deep exhale, she silenced it once more.

Still, the call came repeatedly. Finally, her resolve buckled. She swiped to answer—and a slurred, ragged voice spilled through.

"Adah… I'm drunk, I can't… I can't move… help," Stephen mumbled, his words punctuated by hiccups and a mangled pronunciation of her name.

Ada's eyes narrowed. "Stephen, I can't come—your friends should be helping you. I've got a job to catch," she chided, her tone firm despite the tumult churning inside her. A weak laugh and garbled cough trailed from his end.

"Alone… came alone and—bleurgh!" he sputtered, before the line crackled into silence.

Frustration warred with concern. Ada's thoughts flickered back to all the nights she'd bailed him out, paying off bar tabs and shouldering his debts. Yet as much as she resented his timing, he was her only family. With a sigh heavy with reluctant care, she blurted, "I'm coming. Where are you?"

After a long pause, his voice emerged between hiccups: "Xxx Club…" And then, with a final jolt of static—a beep, a toot—the call was gone.

The driver, sensing her distress, inquired, "What's the matter, miss?"

"Family emergency," Ada murmured, trying to steady her racing heart. "Please, change our destination. I'll pay double if you must."

"Alright," the driver grunted, adjusting the route. Ada's mind whirled as the city's lights blurred past. She had planned a swift rescue: fetch Stephen, drop him home, and then rush to her next gig. Now, every second threatened to shatter that plan.

The cab slowed to a stop before a sprawling, high-end club whose opulence screamed exclusivity. Ada stepped out, tipping the driver generously. Her gaze lifted to the bouncers stationed like silent sentinels at the entrance. Clad in her modest attire and burdened by anxiety, she felt like an interloper in a world of polished wealth.

Just as she neared the door, a well-dressed woman brushed past her with a disdainful sneer. "Move it, you're in the way," the woman snapped, her manicured nails tapping against Ada's shoulder. "Old fucking money and dirty rats—this place has none of that." The insult stung, but Ada forced herself forward.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Stephen's number repeatedly. Each ring deepened her worry until she realized he wasn't answering at all. Pacing beside the grand entrance, Ada wondered how her notorious brother had wormed his way into this lavish club.

Suddenly, a sleek Rolls-Royce Phantom glided up. The vehicle's presence was magnetic, drawing every eye. Out stepped a man whose rugged features and distracted air rendered him dangerously handsome. His dark hair, a perfect disarray against the night, framed a chiseled face absorbed in his phone. Ada's breath caught, her rescue mission momentarily forgotten.

Before she could gather her wits, another sharply dressed man intercepted her path. With a polite but firm grip, he halted her advance. "Excuse me," Ada insisted, her voice a blend of desperation and determination. "I really need help."

The suited man cast her a brief, dismissive look and stepped aside with a subtle gesture toward the striking stranger. The handsome man finally pocketed his phone and regarded her with an intensity that made her pulse race.

"Please," she repeated, her tone softer now yet laced with urgency, "can you help me get inside?"

A heavy silence fell as he studied her. Then, in a baritone that seemed to melt the surrounding clamor, he asked, "Why?"

For a long heartbeat, Ada was too stunned to speak. Finally, she managed, "Because my brother's in trouble, and I have to get him home. I'm already late, and… I can't just stand by."

His dark eyes bore into hers as he considered her words. Ada's thoughts tumbled—memories of countless nights bailing out Stephen, the weight of responsibility, and the sting of disappointment mixed with familial love.

Before she could explain further, her phone vibrated again. Glancing down, she saw another missed call from Stephen. The moment fractured; duty reasserted itself. "I have to check on him," she whispered, regret mingling with her urgency.

The handsome stranger stepped closer, his presence both reassuring and enigmatic. "I can accompany you inside," he offered, his tone gentle yet insistent. "Let me see if someone can help from within."

Ada hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Alright," she said, accepting the keycard he produced from a side pocket. "Thank you." Their fingers brushed briefly—a spark that sent a shiver down her spine—and he handed her the card with a quiet nod.

"Follow me," he instructed, leading her toward a less conspicuous entrance guarded by fewer bouncers. With each step, Ada's anxiety battled with an inexplicable pull toward this stranger's calm assurance.

They reached a modest door at the club's rear. Just then, a booming voice from within called out, "Ada, is that you?"

Her heart leaped. It was Stephen—slurred, panicked, and desperate. Ada pressed the door open, stepping into the dazzling interior where pulsing lights and a relentless bass beat filled the space. The handsome stranger trailed behind her like a silent guardian.

Near a shadowed corner, Stephen lurched forward, collapsing onto a worn couch. "Ada… help… I'm so alone…" he mumbled, his words barely intelligible amid intermittent hiccups.

Ada knelt beside him, gently steadying his arm. "Stephen, I told you not to call if you're in this mess," she chided, her voice firm yet laced with care. "You need to rest. I'll get you home."

He groaned, attempting to rise as the room spun. "I— I thought I could handle it," he slurred before sinking back into the couch.

From the periphery, the handsome stranger stepped forward once more. "He needs proper help," his deep voice resonated, cutting through the murmur of club music.

Ada looked up, startled. "Who are you?" she demanded softly, her eyes searching his face for clues.

He hesitated only a moment. "Someone who believes in lending a hand when it matters," he replied, his gaze flickering toward Stephen before returning to her. "Consider it a favor."

Ada's tired eyes softened. "Thank you," she said, the gratitude evident despite her irritation at the endless crises Stephen's calls inciting.

"Call me if you need more assistance," he added, his tone gentle as he stepped back into the swirl of the club's patrons.

Helping Stephen to his feet, Ada murmured, "Stephen, please—next time, think twice before getting into this mess."

He mumbled a barely audible apology, leaning on her for support as they began toward the exit. The handsome stranger's figure receded into the pulsating crowd, leaving behind the lingering echo of his simple question: "Why?"

Outside, in the cool embrace of the early morning, Stephen slumped against Ada. "I'm sorry, Ada," he whispered, his voice thick with remorse and alcohol.

Ada sighed, her resolve tempered by tired compassion. "Promise me you'll try to stay out of trouble," she said, her tone a mix of exasperation and love.

"Promise," he mumbled, his words trailing off as he leaned on her shoulder.

As they stepped away from the club's glittering chaos, Ada glanced back at the entrance. The stranger's earlier words mingled with the distant echoes of the night: a soft murmur of gratitude, a promise of help when least expected.

Stephen's bleary eyes met hers, and in that quiet moment amid the waking city, he managed, "Thanks, Ada."

She offered him a small, wry smile. "We'll talk later. For now, get some rest."

A deep, unseen voice joined the farewell—a parting note from the night itself. "Good night, Ada," someone called softly from the shadows.

"Good night, and stay safe," Ada replied