The Gala
Life can seem complicated, but it’s often not that hard to understand. My life may not be the most desirable, but there are those who would envy my privileges and fame.
“What’s up, Patty?” I looked at Patty with disdain for interrupting my thoughts.
“Don’t you remember that you asked me for something?” Patty was nervously rubbing her hands together.
“I asked you not to bother me when I’m busy!” I responded, rolling my eyes in annoyance.
“Actually, you asked me for a device to help you disable the security cameras for your heist at the gala.”
“That’s true, sorry for snapping at you. It’s just that I’m worried about the gala. Any precautions I should take?”
“Yes, it not only affects surveillance cameras, but it also disrupts communication.”
“So, we’ll have to choose: the cameras or our communication.”
“But you can communicate with Peter, and changing the subject, your dress is ready!”
“With red velvet, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Perfect, there’s nothing like a night for a masterstroke and to put the elite in their place. I’m a genius!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, and you are too, dear. But seriously, can I communicate with Peter during the heist?”
“Yes, Beth, don’t worry.”
Rubbing shoulders with millionaires is something I’ve gotten used to for a while now, but it wasn’t always like this. I built all this from the ground up and surpassed many who were higher up than me. Many want to dethrone me, but none have succeeded. If something were to come to light, it could ruin everything I’ve built.
The ball was held in a majestic hall, with an elegant black and white tiled floor and tall windows adorned with soft pink curtains that let the moonlight filter through. I approached the drinks table and picked up a crystal glass, observing the surroundings. As planned, I saw Gary moving stealthily towards the rooms leading to the vault.
“Excuse me, miss, could you tell me who you are?” Jacob Thompson, a ridiculously wealthy man who was, from what I had heard and seen, very annoying, asked me.
“How can you ask that?! Don’t you know who she is?” said another man accompanying Jacob, who seemed smarter. “She’s Elizabeth Shevil, the most terrifying and richest woman in the city. They say she built all her wealth with her cunning.”
“I can hear you whispering, darling.”
“Sorry, Mrs Shevil.”
“Do as you please, darling. I’m going to chat with people whose names I at least know.”
“That hurt,” Jacob’s friend replied.
“And it’ll hurt more,” I retorted.
I tried to communicate with Peter and, as Patty had said, I could do so.
“Careful, Beth, you know he’s the one we’re robbing,” Peter said.
“You heard all that? And by the way, how’s Gary doing?”
“Excellent, he’s past the first layer.”
“Perfect.”
“I didn’t know the famous people you were talking to were ghosts,” said the same man who didn’t know who I was, with a triumphant tone.
“Excuse me,” what an irritating man!
“What, are you talking to the spirit of millionaire James Thompson?” the annoying man insisted.
“Very funny, Mr Thompson...” what an infuriating man!
“Anyway, who are you? I mean, what do you do? Not just anyone is here for no reason.”
“Do you know VILS stores?” I asked him.
“One of the most famous jewellery shops in London?”
“I’m the owner.”
“No wonder their jewellery is depressing,” what an idiot (seeing that he has one of my rings on his ring finger).
“Then you’re depressing too, especially your lovely ring finger.”
“What the hell.”
“That’s right, the ring you have is one of the 925 silver rings from the Fragilité collection, Mr Thompson,” I said, taking his hand roughly and bringing it close to his eyes. “I’m not as stupid as you, and I know you said the jewellery was depressing just to get back at me for what I said.”
“You’re right, I’m depressing, just like my finger,” Thompson replied. He thought I would lose my composure, but that’s not the case, darlings.
“For once, I see you’re right about something,” I replied sarcastically, watching him frown at my words. “Now that I remember, I have something to do. See you soon.”
“Hopefully not too soon.”
“That’s the second time you’re right as well. Keep it up, dear.”
“Damn it,” I heard him mutter. I’ve been insulted worse (seriously, people have said very horrible things to me).
“Now, Peter, tell me, how’s Gary?”
“He’s doing well; he successfully entered the vault.”
“Finally, something good happens tonight,” I replied cheerfully.
“Uh... Beth,” Peter interrupted, sounding worried.
“Yes?”
“The guards are approaching the vault.”
“Then he should act according to the plan. He needs to be quick!”
“But will he be quick enough not to get locked in the vault?”
“What?!”
