The picnic

She stood up and they left the house. The park was alive with warm golden sunlight filtering through tall trees, the scent of fresh grass lingering in the air. Courtesans in pastel silks lounged on wide picnic sheets, laughter and soft chatter filling the breeze. Harper's eyes flicked toward the approaching group.

Freya noticed Angel strutting toward them, flanked by two courtesans. She wore a smug smile and carried a basket adorned with ribbons, walking like she owned the earth. Harper glanced at Freya—an unspoken signal. Freya nodded firmly and took off with quick, determined steps.

"I'm gonna visit the bathroom, Blue!" she called over her shoulder, rushing forward.

But then—smack!

She collided straight into Angel.

The basket tumbled. Fruits, perfume bottles, ribbons, and silk cloths scattered across the ground like a burst of confetti.

Angel's eyes flared with rage. "Why did you bump into me?! Are you stupid?" She slapped Freya across the cheek. The sound cracked loud in the stunned air.

Freya winced and staggered a bit. "I'm sorry, it wasn't intentional," she mumbled, holding her stinging face.

"It wasn't intentional? Did that bitch tell you to come ruin my stuff for me?!"

"She did not!"

"Pack everything back before I throw you another slap!" Angel snapped.

Freya dropped to her knees, quietly slipping the little glass into the mess of scattered items. Her fingers trembled, but her face remained downcast, masking the motion with a shaky breath. She tucked the glass deep under a folded scarf, covering it with Angel's junk, then handed the basket back.

"I'm sorry, Angel," she said softly, trying to sound convincing.

"Sorry my foot! Once I get rid of your courtesans, I won't forget you either. A bunch of troublemakers!" Angel hissed and stormed off.

Freya straightened, muttering under her breath, "Let's see who will be gotten rid of first, idiot." She walked away calmly, her fingers clenching at her sides.

Soon, everyone sat on the wide white sheet laid out beneath a flowering tree. A warm breeze lifted strands of Harper's hair as she adjusted her glasses, snapping playful pictures of the girls around her. The atmosphere seemed light and pleasant—on the surface.

Escorts in white uniforms brought over trays of fruit and delicate desserts. Everyone dug in, laughing and chatting.

"I brought some chips!" Angel's voice chimed in sweetly as she snapped her fingers. The escorts handed them out, one by one.

Harper looked at hers, lips tightening.

She set it aside.

"Are you refusing my treat, Blue?" Angel asked, her tone like honey laced with venom.

"Oh no, no! I'm not. I just don't feel like eating anymore," Harper replied carefully.

"You can't reject anything I give at my hosting," Angel said, her eyes narrowing.

"Even if it's something that I can't eat?"

"What's my business with that?"

"What if it gets me killed? I'm already full and can't eat anymore."

"You can die for all I care! You can't reject my food! Eat it now!" Angel barked, voice sharp with fury.

Harper clenched her jaw and picked up the chips. She opened the pack, took one look at Angel, and began to eat. One piece. Then two. She chewed with a strained smile, licking her thumb clean at the end. She tossed the wrapper aside.

Night began to fall. Fireflies lit the edges of the park. Courtesans stood up, brushing off their skirts as they packed their belongings.

Harper wasn't smiling anymore.

She shifted on her feet, holding her stomach tightly. Her face was pale. Sweat glistened on her forehead.

"Blue?" Freya whispered, rushing to her side. "Are you okay?"

Harper's breath hitched. She winced, gripping her belly. She staggered forward.

"Why are you guys so slow? Leave the way if you can't walk fast!" Angel snapped.

"Angel, can't you see she's not feeling good?" Freya snapped back.

"And what's my business with that? She can't handle a little stomach pain? Fuck off!"

Angel shoved past them.

Harper lost her footing.

She crumpled to the ground—and blood spilled from her mouth onto the grass.

"Angel!" Freya screamed. "Why did you push her?!"

"Blue! What's wrong? Why are you spitting blood?!" Violet cried out, rushing over.

"What's wrong with Blue?" another courtesan yelled as they all surrounded her.

"She's been holding her stomach for a while… and now she's spitting blood!" Freya's voice cracked with fear.

Angel folded her arms. "She's just being dramatic."

"Let me check, please!" Daisy said and rushed over. She pulled a pin from her hair and dipped it gently into the blood. Everyone watched, breathless.

Seconds later, her eyes widened in horror. "It's poison," she whispered.

Gasps erupted all around.

"What?! What the hell?!"

"Sage, take her into the van! Get her to the house—now!"

Sage didn't wait—he scooped Harper into his arms and ran to the van. Tires screeched as they sped away.

Fransisca was waiting at the gates when the van rolled in, eyes already sharp with worry. "What the hell happened to her?" she shouted as the van door opened.

"She was poisoned!"

"Oh my God!" she gasped. "Take her in!"

Courtesans gathered, voices overlapping in panic as Harper was rushed into the penthouse. A doctor trailed behind with bags and equipment. IV tubes were quickly set up. Harper lay motionless, her eyelids fluttering, lips stained with red.

Outside, the remaining courtesans were pacing nervously.

Fransisca stormed out.

"What did she eat?!"

"She ate everything that we ate too!"

"Then how the hell was her food poisoned?!"

Freya, her hands shaking, stepped forward. "She didn't eat anything before the picnic, ma'am… She only ate her first meal there."

"Then how—" Fransisca's voice cut off, her suspicion growing. She turned slowly to Angel.

"It must be that girl!" Freya screamed. "It's Angel! She tried to kill my courtesan!"

"What rubbish are you spitting, Freya?!" Angel barked.

"You've been threatening to kill her all along! Just this morning, you said you'd get rid of her!" Freya's voice was breaking, but full of rage. "What did she ever do wrong? She's like a little sister to you! Why would you do this?!"

"Shut up your mouth, Freya, if you don't want me to tear it apart!"

"Don't try to shut me up! Am I lying on you?! Madam!" she turned to Fransisca, tears now falling freely. "Ask the others—they heard her! She said she'd kill Blue!"

Fransisca looked to the other courtesans. "Is it true?"

They shifted, looking guilty and stunned.

"It's true," one whispered. "She's been threatening her all week…"

Angel's face twitched. "You!" She pointed at Freya. "I'm gonna kill you myself!"

"Stop getting on my nerves, Angel!" Fransisca shouted. "Enough!"

Just then, Angel shoved Freya hard. Her basket fell. The contents scattered across the stone path.

"Angel! Stop hurting an escort! She's not your slave!" Daisy snapped.

"She's accusing me!"

"Then prove yourself right!"

"You have no proof either!"

Freya's eyes widened. She bent down and picked something up—her hands trembling.

"This is it!" she cried out. "She definitely put this in Blue's food!"

Fransisca took the glass container from her. "Jesse, give it to the doctor. Now."

"Yes, madam!" Jesse spun around and bolted.

"You've done enough damage, Angel," Fransisca said coldly. "Let's see what the tests say."

Angel was silent, chest rising in panic.

Minutes later, Jesse ran back, breathless. "Madam! The doctor said it's this poison that was in her system."

Angel's face drained of color. She stumbled back, voice weak. "No… It doesn't belong to me… I don't know how it got there…"

Fransisca's eyes were like ice. "Where is your proof then?"

"I didn't poison her! I would never—!"

"You promised to kill her several times."

"They were empty threats! I would never hurt her!"

Fransisca folded her arms, her gaze deadly. "You've put Blue in trouble so many times. And now you want me to believe this wasn't you?"

"I didn't…" Angel whispered, shaking her head. "I didn't…"

"Okay," Fransisca said coldly. "If you say so…"