Freer

The doorbell's chime sliced through the vibrant hum of the party, discordant as a broken guitar string. My stomach knotted with dread, and Mom, her face pale, exchanged a worried glance with me. This wasn't a guest I'd planned for.

Slowly, she opened the door. There stood Bentley Blackwood, taller than most, impeccably dressed, radiating an aura of power that dimmed the very room. Beside him, Liam, his brother, the embodiment of charming, calculated evil. Both of them, faces devoid of warmth, eyes scanning the gathering with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

The room fell silent, the music abruptly stopping like a record scratched. Conversations died mid-sentence, replaced by a collective intake of breath. The warmth and joy that had moments ago filled the air evaporated, replaced by a tension so thick it was almost tangible.

"Ben," Bentley started, his voice smooth as oil, yet laced with condescension. "A pleasant surprise to find you hosting such a… gathering."

I met his gaze, my
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