FLAWLESS

CHAPTER 18

Shanelle POV

The night was alive with pulsating beats as I stood in the midst of my upcoming photoshoot. The room reverberated with the electrifying tunes of The Weeknd, the music loud enough to drown out any thoughts that dared to invade my mind. I was poised and ready, my excitement bubbling just beneath the surface, anticipating the flashes of the camera that would capture my essence.

As I struck a pose, the exuberant photographer, Carl, seemed unable to contain his enthusiasm. 

"Shanelle, darling! Look this way! Tilt your face slightly! Magnificent, absolutely stunning!" His voice cut through the pounding music, guiding me, directing me to perfection. 

With each click of the camera, he showered me with compliments, fueling my confidence and making me feel like the most beautiful creature in the room.

But even amidst the chaos of the photoshoot, I couldn't ignore the incessant vibration of my phone. As I took a break and made my way to the makeup chair, I glanced at the screen and noticed a slew of missed calls from Kayleen. Concern prickled at the back of my mind, urging me to delve deeper into the cause of her urgency.

With trembling fingers, I unlocked my phone and opened my Instagram messages. There, waiting for me, were a series of videos from Beatrice. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest, as I watched the first video unfold before my eyes. It was taken at the club, where Kayleen and Beatrice are hanging out at right now. 

Vincent, was dancing provocatively with another girl—Lina. My stomach churned, and a sharp pain pierced through me as I recognized her.

In the next video, Vincent was at the bar, downing shot after shot, while Lina and Dan cheered him on, their faces gleaming with excitement. The sight burned into my retinas, searing a mix of shock, anger, and hurt into my consciousness. But just as quickly as the video appeared, it vanished, replaced by an incoming call from Beatrice. I jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion.

"Shanelle! Shanelle!" Beatrice's voice slurred with drunkenness as I answered the video call, seeking solace in a quieter corner of the room. She appeared on the screen, her disheveled hair and glassy eyes betraying her intoxicated state. Kayleen, looking more composed, entered the frame, concern etched on her face.

"Nelle, where are you right now?" Kayleen's voice quivered with worry, her eyes scanning my surroundings.

"I'm still at the photoshoot with Carl," I replied, my voice laced with confusion and trepidation.

"Did you watch all the videos that we sent you?" Kayleen's voice was heavy, the weight of her words palpable.

I felt a pang in my heart, a mix of pain and resignation, as I slowly nodded. 

"Yeah, I saw, and I don't care anymore. Let him do whatever he wants. It's not like we're together or anything."

Kayleen's sympathetic gaze pierced through the screen, but before she could say anything, Beatrice erupted into laughter. 

"Don't care anymore? He made you cry on the first date, and then he comes to you, explaining there's nothing going on with his so-called fiancée. Yet here he is!"

She grabbed the phone from Kayleen's hand, turning the camera toward the bar where Vincent sat, Lina perched on his lap. My breath caught in my throat as I blinked back tears, witnessing his betrayal unfold before my eyes. 

Beatrice shifted the camera back to us. 

"He played you, and now he's here celebrating that with his fucking fiancée. So, you know, if you're not gonna sort this out with him, then I'll do it for you."

I watched in shock as she handed the phone back to Kayleen and started marching toward Vincent's direction. Panic surged through my veins as I stood frozen, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that crashed over me. 

"Kayleen?" My voice trembled with urgency. "What is she doing? What is going on?"

Kayleen briefly glanced back at the screen, her eyes filled with worry and a hint of desperation. 

"Nelle, you have to come down here before she ruins everything."

My heart raced, my mind filled with a thousand unanswered questions. 

"Wait, what do you mean? Will you stop moving and tell me what's happening?"

The last thing I heard was her voice crackling through the video call. 

"Nelle, you have to get here quick. We're at Club Indigo," she had said, urgency lacing her words. And then, the connection abruptly cut off, leaving me with an unsettling silence.

 I rushed back to the changing room, shedding the facade of the confident model. Minutes later, dressed in jeans and a hoodie, I raced out of the changing room and into the night. The city streets stretched before me, my fingers gripping the wheel tightly. My mind churned with questions, and I cursed under my breath, urging the traffic lights to change in my favor. 

OoO

As I entered Club Indigo, a wave of vibrant energy crashed over me. The air was thick with pulsating beats, laughter, and conversations melded together into an intoxicating symphony. The club was alive, brimming with people eager to escape reality and lose themselves in the night.

Pushing my way through the throng of bodies, I scanned the dimly lit room, searching for any sign of Kayleen or Beatrice. The flashing lights danced across faces, casting ephemeral shadows on their expressions. The smell of alcohol, sweat, and perfume mingled in the air, a potent concoction that enveloped me as I navigated the chaos.

Finally reaching the bar, I leaned against it, my eyes darting restlessly from corner to corner. I craned my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of familiar figures amidst the sea of strangers. But Kayleen and Beatrice were nowhere to be found.

With a sinking feeling in my gut, I made my way towards the restrooms. It was usually the place where Beatrice sought refuge when her nights took a turn for the worse. I walked down the empty dim-lit hallway, the distant thumping of the music fading into a muted background noise.

Spotting the first restroom, I pushed the door open without a second thought.

"Bea, you in here?" The smell of disinfectant and the flickering fluorescent lights greeted me as I stepped inside. However, the shock of what I saw made my heart leap in my chest.

I froze as I realized my mistake. This wasn't the women's restroom—it was the men's. My face flushed with embarrassment, but I was relieved to find it empty. I quickly turned to leave, my gaze shifting down to avoid any further humiliation.

But before I could make my exit, a loud moan echoed through the room, freezing me in place. Curiosity and a sense of dread compelled me to push the door open slightly, revealing a scene I wish I could unsee.

A man's hand gripped the top of the stall door, while the rhythmic sounds of passion emanated from within. My heart hammered against my ribcage, the beats drowning out the noise of the club. The couple fucking inside the stall didn't hold my attention for long. It was the silver ring on the man's finger that stole my focus—the same ring I had seen Vincent wear, with the engraved letter "V."

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I fought them back, refusing to let them spill. Closing the door quietly, I retreated a few steps until my back met the cool wall. Crossed arms hugged my body tightly, a physical barrier against the emotional turmoil brewing inside me.

I needed him to finish whatever business he had so that I could confront him, demand answers to the questions gnawing at my soul. Vincent's betrayal pierced through me, mingling with the sounds of pleasure and the pounding bass outside. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as I waited for the end of their fucking session.

I took slow, deep breaths, trying to steady myself, to find the strength to face the inevitable confrontation. The club continued to pulsate around me, oblivious to the storm brewing within. And as the minutes ticked by, I prepared myself to confront the man who shattered my trust, to reclaim the fragments of my shattered heart.