Urban System in America-Chapter 251 - 250: Betrayal

"I overheard one of the guards talking, not even an hour ago. He mentioned someone, some powerful big shot got their eye on you—been pursuing you for a while now. Or should I say coveting you, to be exact." His tone was detached, his eyes looking straight and expressions, like it was a small talk between a couple. "Apparently, he gave explicit orders to ’secure’ you tonight."

And this party? The whole thing’s a setup. A carefully staged trap to get you alone. The plan was to spike your drink or maybe use some other method. I don’t know all the details yet."

He paused, his eyes locking onto the path ahead.

"But I know enough to tell you this: if he gets his hands on you, what happens afterward... well, I think you can probably guess what ’afterwards’ means better than I can."

Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, the music, the lights, the clinking of glasses—everything faded into a dull hum behind her ears.

Rex pulled back slightly, his gaze unreadable. "I don’t know who he is yet, but whoever he is, he’s got resources, and reach. You need to be careful. Don’t trust anyone here."

"What...?" she breathed, barely audible over the low thrum of music.

"I know how it sounds," he said, his tone still even. "And trust me, I wouldn’t be wasting my time if it wasn’t serious. The guy pulling the strings? He’s not some random creep. He’s the type of man who doesn’t hear ’no.’ Of course I think you should have some idea, who he is."

"But the worst part is—he has people. Guards. Staff. Maybe even your so-called friends. They’re all part of it, or at least being paid to look the other way."

Her lips parted, as if to say something, but nothing came out. She looked past him for a moment, scanning the crowd now with fresh eyes. Suddenly, everything felt different. The clinking glasses, fake laughs, perfect smiles, all of it felt sinister. She had thought that only the group behind her was after her, but hearing this now, she didn’t know what to feel or react, the same people she’d danced past, smiled at, talked with... any one of them could’ve been in on it.

And more importantly, she couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d ended up at this party in the first place? At this party she hadn’t even wanted to attend in the first place. Why had she said yes?

Because her agency’s CEO, someone she had always trusted like a mentor, insisted so persistently, she had thought he was just being pushy about her image, as usual. Because her agent, someone she had treated like a sister, had coaxed her with reassurances, guilt-tripping her into attending, saying things like "This will be huge for your brand" and "Trust me, this is the kind of crowd you want to be seen with."

And then there were her so-called friends — the plastic ones with perfect smiles and hollow words. For days they’d been dropping hints about this party, casually slipping it into every conversation like it was just another glamorous event on their endless social calendar.

"You’re coming, right? Everyone who’s anyone will be there."

"It’ll be fun! Totally your scene. You’ll regret it if you don’t."

Each time, the pressure had been subtle but constant, like a steady drip of water wearing her down. They made it sound harmless, even exciting — just another night out with the glitterati. But looking back now, it all felt rehearsed. Too coordinated. As if they’d all been reading from the same script. They’d been pushing her into the lion’s den, one carefully polished step at a time.

Trust. That word now tasted bitter.

The weight of it hit her all at once. She felt the air thin, the world around her spun as if someone had yanked the floor out from under her. And for a moment the lights blurred, Her knees weakened and she nearly collapsed — but Rex’s arm, still looped with hers, held firm, and that saved her. To the outside, it probably looked like nothing more than an awkward stumble from high heels. Nothing unusual at a party like this.

Rex didn’t flinch. He reacted immediately, steadying her with a subtle but firm grip around her waist. His hand was firm, warm, solid in a moment where everything else felt like it was falling apart.

When she regained her balance, she didn’t pull away. Instead, just for a moment she leaned into him — not out of affection, but survival, as she slowly turned her head toward him, and their eyes met, her expression unreadable at first.

But her eyes told a different story.It was a storm of contradictions. Complicated. Wounded. Confusion. A storm of emotions she couldn’t begin to name. They were screaming: disbelief, betrayal, suspicion, denial — and beneath all that, a desperate glimmer of hope fighting against rising dread. Her lashes fluttered as she searched his face, ina hope that maybe he was wrong, almost pleading for him to take it back, to laugh and say it was a joke, that she was being paranoid.

That this was all a huge misunderstanding. That this world she had worked so hard to be part of wasn’t rotten after all.

She didn’t want it to be true. She couldn’t accept that it might be.

But he didn’t.

And that silence—that awful silence—was confirmation enough.

She forced herself to breathe, to steady the tremble in her hands.

"It just doesn’t make sense," she whispered, voice barely audible over the thump of bass and murmuring crowd. "They were like family."

"Sometimes," Rex said gently, "it’s the ones closest to you who sell you out with the quietest smile.

Her eyes darted toward the glimmering crowd, now feeling like a sea of strangers. The unnatural vanishing of her usual entourage, the sudden disappearance of her plastic "friends," the way people had been keeping their distance. A few too obviously watching her from corners, their expressions unreadable.

And now, it all fit together like puzzle pieces soaked in poison.

Still, she clung to one last shred of denial.

She stayed quiet for a long second, staring at the nothingness in front of her---blinding lights, faceless guests, empty glamour. Everything felt distant now, like she was underwater, watching the world through layers of glass.

Then, slowly, she turned to look at Rex. Her eyes narrowed just enough to conceal the fracture behind them.

"And you just decided to play the hero tonight?" she asked finally. Her tone tried to hit sarcasm, tried to land somewhere dismissive and dry, but it missed. Her voice betrayed her at the very end, cracking ever so slightly, the break barely noticeable but painfully real.

Rex didn’t take the bait. His eyes met hers without flinching, calm and unflinching.

"I’m not playing anything," he said, a little softer. "I just didn’t want to walk away knowing I could’ve said something and didn’t."

Silence fell between them.

Not the comfortable kind. This one was thick, suffocating. The kind of silence that felt like it had a weight of its own, pressing down on her chest, making it hard to draw a full breath.

And in that silence, with his words still echoing in her mind and his gaze steady on hers, she felt something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Fear.

She felt truly, deeply afraid.

Not the kind that made you scream or run. The quieter kind. The kind that slipped under your skin and settled in your guts. The kind that told you something had changed, and nothing would be the same after this.

(End of Chapter)