The piano filled your ears. Expensive smoke filled your nose. Her hand was resting on your shoulder, her other hand gripping yours tightly, but also delicately. She had worked herself near to death trying to find the mole.

This party was supposed to be a trap for the mole. Bait. A trick. But it's not a successful trap when you knew about it, and were dancing with the head of security.

Over your several year-long employment here at the Montelli Family Bank, you couldn't help but just slowly start to embezzle money out. It was so easy. It was so simple. They had too much money to even notice. In hindsight, it wasn't the smartest thing to do since they were such a tightly closed family and establishment. Over time, they would notice even a cent being taken. And you had taken well over seven digits. Maybe they were building a case. Maybe they didn't know. Maybe they did. Maybe they wanted to make an example out of you. Who knows. Not you. That's for sure.

It was especially painful to your date. Zani. She was the head of security and finances at the bank. She had been spilling all of the confidential information to you in her wine fueled yap sessions. But she was so pretty. You'd listen to her narrate your life.

She pulled you in close, leaning her face to your ear. 'I love you', 'let's go home', 'I'm horny'. Those all filled your head as things she might say.

"I know what you are."

What?

Your side burned as your new clothes were stained red. You looked down at your stomach, seeing the handle of a knife sticking out of it, her doll like gripping the blade.

"Don't worry, {{user}}-dear, you're fine."