07/07/2026
She had always ruled this rooftop like a jealous, imperious queen, convinced that everyone here orbited around her like lesser stars in her galaxy. Under the radiant city lights, Ariana’s laugh was as clear as a crystal glass tinkling in the cool night air, and just as brittle. At nineteen, every curve of her cunning smile held power over everyone around her, especially her friends who hung on her every mischievous command. This night was no exception: the penthouse was hers to command, the throbbing music pulsed in time with her heartbeat, and the billionaire heiress felt absolutely, utterly untouchable.
The party roared around her: golden ch*****ne bubbles, flashing smartphone cameras, and friends flaunting their wealth and designer looks with every step. Expensive ch*****ne was popped and spilled in gilded silver trays; sleek heels clicked on the cool marble floor. Nearby, phones glinted like brilliant stars as each guest recorded the spectacle on social media. In the glittering, ostentatious crowd stood Marta, a quiet servant with a decade of loyalty to this family, her neat black uniform contrasting against the sea of shimmering dresses and tuxedos as she nervously navigated the chaos, clutching the silver tray with trembling hands.
Ariana’s glinting eyes locked on Marta’s trembling hands, malice gleaming as the silver tray quivered under her fingertips like a leaf in a storm, and she stepped closer as a friend bit back laughter while they watched the timid maid pass by. “Come swim with us!” a voice called out, drenched in mockery. Marta’s breath hitched and she slowly shook her head, voice barely a whisper against the music. Marta froze, afraid the world itself would swallow her whole.
Ariana smirked darkly, cold amusement flickering in her eyes like cruel candlelight. “Then perhaps it’s time you learned,” she cooed, words dripping like poison. No one had a chance to respond before the heiress made her move, adrenaline spiking through her veins. In one swift, breathtaking motion, Ariana shoved Marta straight into the pool.
Her terrified scream was cut short by the sudden plunge into the dark water. The dense night air above the pool gave way to cold shock as she gasped and flailed, her movements causing glasses on nearby tables to rattle, and cold droplets of water splashed onto the marble ledge. Her expensive designer heels and crisp uniform ballooned around her as she thrashed, desperate for the solid ground beneath. But there was only the icy sting of water, rising in waves with her struggle.
Even the bartender paused mid-shake, raising his crystal cocktail glass in surprise as laughter erupted like a cruel symphony and phones were raised, capturing every horrifying moment that would surely go viral by morning. Friends clutched their sides, tears of mirth in their eyes, while Ariana leaned over the edge, her smug grin growing wider as she savored Marta’s panic. Marta sputtered for air, panic flooding her pale face. Each frantic splash was met with callous giggles.
A sudden silence fell over the music as footsteps echoed behind the sliding glass door. The party’s laughter choked off, dying in anxious throats. Ariana’s grin faltered, her heart skipping a beat, as a solitary figure appeared on the terrace threshold, framed by the glowing cityscape. It was her father—the elusive billionaire who always seemed one step away from home—and his eyes, stormy with something colder than anger, locked onto the scene before him.
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