The Night I Was Drugged

Esmeralda

The moment I stepped into Elite Lounge, a wave of pulsing bass and perfume-heavy air hit me. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting hazy patterns along the dark walls. At the door, a massive bouncer scanned the crowd like a soldier on duty.

He glanced down at me with a neutral expression. “Name?”

“Esmeralda Reyes,” I replied with a faint smile.

His eyes flicked to the list in his hand. After a pause, he nodded. “You’re on the list. Welcome, Mrs. Reyes.” He stepped aside to let me in.

The moment I crossed the threshold, I regretted it. Music throbbed through the walls, bodies packed the dance floor, and the strobe lights made everything feel surreal. Once, this chaos had been my playground. But not anymore.

Two years of marriage to Antonio had changed me. I no longer craved attention or parties. I was content with quieter nights, simpler things. Love had humbled me.

“Girl, what took you so long?” Elena’s voice cut through the noise behind me.

I turned just in time to catch her arms flinging around my neck.

“Sorry,” I laughed. “Antonio’s not a fan of places like this. Took some convincing.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “When is he going to realize I’m not a threat to your marriage? I’m your best friend, not his competition.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I’m here now. That’s what matters.”

We headed toward the bar, brushing past men whose stares lingered a little too long.

“A virgin cocktail, please,” I told the bartender. Elena had already started sipping hers by the time I turned back to her.

“Damn, Esme,” she muttered, her gaze shifting to the crowd. “You really know how to draw attention.”

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

She nudged her head toward a group of men watching from across the room. I sighed. My looks had always turned heads. Long dark hair, sharp features, an elegance I couldn’t shake even if I tried. But tonight, I wasn’t here for attention.

“Let them look. I’m not interested.”

I lifted my glass and took a small sip, letting the music settle into my bones.

“I need another drink,” Elena announced, already flagging down the bartender for another round.

She reached for her glass too fast and accidentally knocked over mine. Cold liquid spilled across my dress, soaking the silk.

“Damn it,” I muttered, trying to blot it out with a napkin. It was hopeless.

“I’m so sorry,” Elena gasped, reaching for more napkins. “Let me help—”

“No, I’ll handle it,” I said, already stepping away. “Stay here. You’re tipsy.”

She blinked at me, swaying slightly. I gave her a light push back onto her stool. “Don’t move.”

She nodded, slumping forward with her cheek pressed to the bar counter.

I made my way to the restroom, grateful for the quiet. The bass still thudded faintly through the walls, but the space was calmer. I rinsed the stain and patted the fabric dry, catching my reflection in the mirror. I looked fine, composed, even. But something felt…off.

When I returned, Elena was in the same position, face down on the bar. A new cocktail sat beside her.

“Your friend ordered that for you,” the bartender said with a grin.

I hesitated. I hadn’t seen Elena move, but my throat was dry. Telling myself it was just a harmless drink, I downed it in one go.

The sweetness hit first. Then bitterness.

I turned to wake Elena, but as I stood, the world tilted. My vision blurred. My legs felt heavy, foreign. Panic surged in my chest, but my body didn’t respond.

A hand gripped my arm. Someone whispered something I couldn’t understand.

I tried to speak. Tried to fight.

Then everything went dark.

---

I woke slowly, my eyelids heavy, my skull throbbing with every heartbeat. It took a moment before I recognized the ceiling. The soft glow of the chandelier, the pale drapes. I was in my bedroom.

Home.

Confused, I sat up too fast, dizziness forcing me back against the pillows. The last thing I remembered was the bar… Elena… the drink.

Everything after that was gone.

I rubbed my temples, trying to make sense of it. Antonio must have come to the lounge. Maybe he brought me home.

But something didn’t feel right.

Where was Elena?

I slipped my feet into my slippers and stood, moving slowly through the hallway like a ghost in my own home.

“Antonio?” I called, my voice thin in the silence.

No answer.

I wandered into the kitchen and startled one of the maids.

“Where’s my husband?” I asked, squinting through the headache.

She froze. “Sir is in his study,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to the floor.

A chill crept down my spine. Her voice… the way she said it. Something was off.

I approached the study. The door was half open. I reached for the handle, but stopped when I heard a soft sound breathy, low, unmistakable.

No. No, it can’t be.

My heart hammered in my chest as I pushed the door open.

And there he was, Antonio.

Half-dressed. His body tangled with someone else's.

My breath caught when I saw her.

Elena.

For a moment, time froze.

Then the pain hit sharp, hot, overwhelming.

“Antonio…” My voice cracked.

They looked up, shocked.