Another half hour slipped by before either of them realized it.

The music grew louder as the night wore on, the bass vibrating through the polished floor beneath their feet. Colored lights swept across the packed dance floor while laughter and conversation blended into the constant rhythm of the club.

Amelia had already worked her way through several cocktails. She wasn’t drunk, but the alcohol had left a faint blush on her cheeks, and her laughter came much more easily than it had earlier in the evening.

"You know..." she said, swaying gently with the music as she smiled at Luca. "You’re actually pretty fun once you stop pretending to be so serious."

"I’ve never pretended."

"Oh, please."

She reached over and poked him lightly in the chest.

"You’re always acting like some mature CEO."

"I am a mature CEO."

She burst into laughter.

"And yet you still argue with me over carnival games."

"You’re the one who brings up the topics."

"I absolutely do not."

"And besides, you begged me to help you win."

"I was motivating you."

"You nearly hit the booth attendant."

"Hmph."

Amelia folded her arms in exaggerated protest before laughing again.

A few nearby guests couldn’t help glancing in their direction. The handsome young man and the beautiful woman looked perfectly at ease together, trading jokes as though they had known each other for years.

Luca checked the time on his phone before slipping it back into his pocket.

"I’ll be right back."

Amelia tilted her head.

"Hm?"

"Bathroom."

"Oh."

She pointed toward a hallway on the opposite side of the club.

"The men’s restroom is over there."

Luca nodded.

"Don’t disappear while I’m gone."

She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"As if."

"I know you."

"You really don’t."

Chuckling to himself, Luca disappeared into the sea of people.

Amelia remained near the edge of the dance floor, absentmindedly sipping her drink while waiting for him to return.

She never noticed that someone else had been watching her all evening.

From a shadowed VIP balcony overlooking the club, a broad-shouldered man slowly rose from his seat.

His name was Broberry McArthur.

Across San Fierro, the name carried considerable weight.

Officially, he owned several logistics companies, warehouses, and transportation firms.

Unofficially, rumors linked him to one of the city’s largest smuggling operations. Whether the stories were true or not, few people were willing to test them. He had already earned huge respect in San Fierro undergrounds.

Broberry rarely spent nights drinking alone.

But yesterday, everything had changed.

His wife had finally filed for divorce.

After nearly twenty years together, she had reached her breaking point. She was exhausted by his constant affairs, his temper, and the fear that had slowly become part of everyday life.

He had signed the papers without saying a word.

Since then, he’d done little besides drink.

Tonight, he had come to Eclipse Club hoping to drown the bitterness that lingered in the back of his mind.

Then he noticed Amelia.

Her bright smile.

The way she laughed so freely.

The effortless elegance she carried without trying.

From that moment on, his attention rarely left her.

What bothered him even more was the young man beside her.

Every smile they shared. Every joke. Every easy glance between them.

With each passing minute, the alcohol clouding his thoughts twisted those ordinary moments into something that fueled his growing resentment.

’Why does a kid like him get someone like her...?’

He emptied another glass.

His judgment had long since given way to intoxication.

Then he saw Luca walk away.

Toward the restroom.

His bloodshot eyes narrowed.

’Now’s my chance.’

Setting his empty glass aside, Broberry headed toward the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Amelia had stopped dancing and leaned casually against the edge of the VIP section, watching the crowd while she waited.

She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Suddenly, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder.

She stiffened.

Turning around, she found herself face-to-face with a middle-aged man whose eyes were glassy from alcohol. The sharp smell of liquor hung around him as his gaze wandered over her without the slightest hint of courtesy.

"Beautiful..." he slurred with a crooked smile.

"Come dance with me."

Amelia immediately stepped back.

"I’m sorry, but I’m here with someone."

She tried to move away.

Instead, his grip tightened around her shoulder.

"I said..."

He leaned closer, his words thick with alcohol.

"...dance with me."

"I said no."

Her voice became noticeably colder.

She tried to pull free, but his fingers refused to loosen.

Instead, his other hand closed around her wrist.

"Don’t be difficult."

Amelia’s expression hardened.

"Let go."

She struggled again, this time with more force.

Around them, several nearby guests noticed what was happening.

"...That’s Broberry McArthur."

"Oh no..."

"Someone should help her."

"You do it."

The suggestion was met with uneasy silence.

People exchanged uncertain looks before quietly turning away.

Whether from fear, hesitation, or simple self-preservation, no one stepped forward.

Amelia continued trying to free herself.

"You’re hurting me!"

Broberry only laughed.

"I like women with spirit."

Disgust flashed across her face.

"Get your hands off me."

She shoved against his chest, but it barely moved him.

Instead, he leaned in even closer.

The smell of alcohol made her stomach turn.

For the first time that evening, genuine panic crept into her heart.

Her friends had wandered off with their dates.

The music drowned out almost everything.

And the crowd that surrounded them seemed determined not to get involved.

Then a calm voice cut through the tension.

"I suggest you let her go."

Broberry slowly turned.

Standing only a few steps away, Luca watched him with quiet, unreadable composure.

Relief flooded Amelia’s face.

"Luca..."

Broberry glanced between the two of them before letting out a dismissive laugh.

"So..."

"You’re the boyfriend."

Luca’s gaze never left the hand gripping Amelia’s wrist.

"I’ll ask you one last time."

"Let her go."

Broberry’s smile widened.

"...Or what?"

Luca didn’t answer.

He simply walked forward.

Broberry barely had time to react.

BANG!

Luca’s fist crashed squarely into his face.

The impact echoed through the club.

Blood sprayed into the air as Broberry’s massive body stumbled backward several steps before crashing violently into a nearby table, sending bottles and glasses exploding across the floor.

The music continued playing.

But the entire dance floor...

Fell silent.