Amelia Lane hung up, still fuming, and immediately opened her social feed to vent her anger. Her fingers flew over the screen as she posted her status:

"Just my luck—ran into someone I seriously can't stand. Never coming back to this place again. It's disgusting!"

To drive her point home, she attached a photo of the hotel entrance.

Amelia was always popular online, so within minutes, her post was racking up likes and comments. Bored as she waited for her friends to arrive, she refreshed the thread again and again, watching familiar profile pictures pop up beneath her post. Then, unexpectedly, she spotted a new like—one she'd never seen before. Her eyes went wide. She tapped the unfamiliar profile picture.

Of course it was her brother, Andrew Lane.

Thinking fast, Amelia decided she needed to do some damage control. The last thing she wanted was Andrew getting curious about the hotel in her post. She quickly sent him a message:

"Andrew, whatever you do, don't go to that hotel I posted about! Emily Blair is there. I know you don't want to run into her, so I'm warning you just stay away!"

Andrew replied almost instantly: "Got it."

Amelia messaged again: "Seriously, don't go. The whole place is bad news!"

"Mm-hmm," came his short answer.

She sent a final warning, feeling only slightly reassured.

But just thinking about Emily Blair made Amelia's blood boil all over again. With a scowl, she opened Tanner Miller's chat and unceremoniously blocked him.

Her warnings didn't do a thing. Not long after Amelia drove away, a Rolls-Royce pulled up outside the hotel.

A man in a tailored suit stepped out, his expression cold and severe. He glanced up at the top floor, where lights blazed and shadows flickered behind the glass.

Night had fallen. Inside the grand ballroom, the crowd was wild and packed tight, arms waving in the air as the DJ's bass thumped so loudly the floors seemed to vibrate. Emily Blair sat hunched in a corner, hands pressed to her ears, her whole body trembling from the noise.

Tristan Davis, beside her, looked completely unfazed. He lounged back, arms crossed and legs propped up, the picture of casual boredom.

Emily was surprised to see Tanner Miller dive into the heart of the chaos, grinning as he threw himself into the dancing crowd. He looked happier than ever, practically glued to a handful of women as they knocked back drinks, laughing and flirting like he hadn't a care in the world.

There was not a trace of heartbreak on him.

Emily pressed a hand to her chest. Suddenly, her own guilt seemed to evaporate.

Tristan leaned over, chuckling, "Told you not to feel bad. Tanner loves to party-he and Amelia were never that serious."

Relieved, Emily got to her feet. "Well, now I can stop worrying. I'm going to freshen up."

In the restroom, Emily bent over the sink, about to check her makeup in the mirror.

Suddenly, the lights cut out—all at once, dropping her into pitch-black darkness. Muffled commotion echoed from the ballroom.

Her heart lurched. Instinctively, she reached for the wall to steady herself.

Everyone else was still at the party; Emily was alone in the restroom.

Her eyes struggled to adjust. She couldn't see a thing, not even her own hands.

She patted her pockets for her phone, but both were empty.

Only then did she realize she'd left her phone on the table.

Left with no other choice, Emily pressed a hand against the cold wall and slowly felt her way toward the exit.