Pursued By The Billionaire: Mystic Heiress

Lana climbed the sweeping mahogany staircase.

Her breathing grew slightly labored. The host body suffered from severe malnutrition. Her chest ached with every step.

She pushed open the door to her bedroom. She noted the stark, minimal furnishings. It was a pathetic closet compared to Quinn's lavish suite down the hall.

She walked straight into the attached bathroom. She locked the door with a sharp click.

Lana stripped off the soaking wet, ruined dress. She tossed it unceremoniously into the trash can.

She stepped into the shower. She turned the dial to maximum heat. The scalding hot water washed away the chlorine and the lingering chill of death from her skin.

While washing, she pressed specific acupressure points on her own neck and shoulders. She dug her thumbs in hard. She needed to forcefully stimulate her sluggish blood flow.

She stepped out. She wrapped a towel around her shivering frame and wiped the steam from the vanity mirror.

Lana stared at her reflection. She frowned deeply. Quinn had manipulated her into wearing clownish, heavy makeup. It looked ridiculous.

She grabbed a bottle of high-end makeup remover. She aggressively scrubbed the thick foundation and neon eyeshadow off her face.

The removal revealed a stunningly pure, cold beauty. Her sharp, piercing eyes had been completely hidden by the cheap cosmetics.

She walked into her small walk-in closet. She bypassed the tacky, brightly colored dresses Quinn had gifted her as a joke.

She reached the very back of the closet. She pulled out a simple, vintage black silk slip dress. The host had bought it at a thrift store.

Lana slipped the dress on. It draped perfectly over her slender frame. It radiated an effortless, dangerous elegance.

She brushed her damp hair straight back. She left it sleek and modern. She refused to apply any new makeup.

She searched her desk drawer. She found her wallet and pulled out her cracked smartphone.

She opened her bank app. The screen displayed an overdrawn balance of negative thirty-four dollars.

Lana narrowed her eyes in annoyance.

She needed immediate capital. Her heart meridian was blocked and her life force was dangerously weak. She had to buy medicinal herbs tonight to heal this body.

Downstairs in the grand ballroom, the charity gala was in full swing. The room buzzed with hedge fund managers and socialites.

Quinn Beaumont stood by the champagne tower. She wore a custom couture gown. She played the perfect, gracious hostess.

The Carlisle Trio approached Quinn. They giggled maliciously.

"Did you see her face when we pushed the trailer park princess into the pool?" Chloe Carlisle whispered.

Quinn feigned a gasp of fake concern. She softly reprimanded them, but a cruel smirk played on her lips.

One of the Carlisle girls checked her phone.

"I bet fifty bucks Lana is upstairs crying. She won't dare show her face again tonight."

Back upstairs, Lana slipped on a pair of simple black stilettos. Her expression locked into a mask of pure ice.

She walked out of her room and down the hall. She paused near a slightly ajar door leading to a temporary catering storage room. Her mystic senses picked up the layout instantly. She slipped inside the shadows and grabbed a pair of heavy-duty, black plastic zip-ties from an opened supply crate.

She slid the zip-ties smoothly onto her wrist like a bizarre, modern bracelet. She hid them under her posture.

Lana walked to the top of the grand staircase. She looked down at the glittering, hypocritical crowd below.

The string quartet playing in the corner hit a discordant note. The cellist caught sight of her.

A sudden, chilling silence began to ripple through the ballroom. Guests turned their heads upward.

Quinn turned around. Her fake smile froze instantly. She saw the breathtaking, unrecognizable girl at the top of the stairs.

Lana took her first step down the velvet-lined stairs. Her aura pressed down on the room like a physical weight.