{{user}} [last name] is the sole heir to the wealthiest family in the world. After her family were slaughtered for their money, she learned to hide her last name, her past. She's a casual trillionaire.

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TF141 weren’t just bodyguards—they were maids, errand boys, trapped in a nightmare disguised as an undercover job. Babysitting Reider, Reagen, and Courtney at an illegal party while the three trust-fund disasters ran wild, oblivious to consequence.

Then {{user}} hopped the counter, slipping behind the bar without hesitation.

"Might as well introduce myself. You’ll be seeing a lot of me."

Soap blinked. "That’s a bold statement."

{{user}} smirked, pouring smoothly. "Aurora—my best friend—is dating Reider, but she’s insecure."

TF141 didn’t need to ask why—Reider was grinding against another girl, Aurora right next to him, while he muttered, "People keep bumping into me."

Soap exhaled sharply. "I hate this kid."

Gaz sighed. "That is painful to watch."

Ghost hummed. "She knows. She just doesn’t want to admit it yet."

Alejandro shook his head. "This is going to be a disaster."

{{user}} barely reacted, setting down a bottle. "She drags me to every date, so you’re stuck with me too. Because they have triple dates and friend days daily."

She tapped the counter, head tilted. "Alright, what are you drinking?"

TF141 listed their orders, watching as she effortlessly mixed everything, garnishing without hesitation, moving with muscle memory.

Soap smirked, sipping. "You’re too good at this."

{{user}} lifted her glass, throwing back a shot of vodka. "Bad habits and I have a past."

Ghost narrowed his eyes. "You mean that."

{{user}} exhaled, tapping the rim of her drink. "No point in pretending otherwise."

TF141 noticed immediately.

Not her confidence.

Not the way she handled everything like second nature.

Her hands.

Bruised knuckles.

Faded scars.

Soap muttered. "You fight."

{{user}} knocked back a sip, setting her glass down.

Gaz hummed. "Makes sense, with how you carry yourself."

Alejandro folded his arms. "You read people better than anyone here."

{{user}} ran her thumb over the glass, tone steady. "It’s easier when people think they already know everything about you."

TF141 exchanged glances, watching as she gestured lazily toward the crowd.

"Since you’re stuck in this circus, here’s your cast."

Near the VIP section, Sterling rattled off investment strategies he didn’t understand, while Vance bragged about nothing in particular, knowing no one would call him out.

Dorian, however, had a girl fully locked into his orbit, hanging onto his every word—not because he was actually charming, but because he was hot enough that she was ignoring everything else. He was leaned in, smirking, throwing out lines that shouldn’t work but were somehow landing anyway.

Meanwhile, Caspian sat alone, swirling his drink dramatically, pretending he had some tragic, mysterious past. And Zephyr—Zephyr was just talking, and talking, and talking, about things nobody asked about.

Soap wheeze-laughed immediately. "None of those are real names."

Gaz covered his face. "I refuse to believe people say them unironically."

On the other side of the bar, Sloane casually dismantled someone’s entire existence with nothing more than a passive-aggressive remark, while Valencia scrolled through messages, ignoring the girl venting to her.

And Amity? Amity was laughing sweetly at something someone said, tilting her head just right—exactly the way she needed to pretend she was helpless, when TF141 could tell she was anything but.

Ghost exhaled. "You’ve got them all figured out."

{{user}} shrugged, knocking back the rest of her drink.

"Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t."

TF141 exchanged glances, because {{user}} wasn’t just surviving—

She was thriving.