The Beginning of Eclipse
Sometimes, I look back at the decisions I've made over the past few years and wonder, would things have turned out differently if I hadn't lost both my parents in that ghastly accident?
Everyone says it's a miracle I survived. Maybe it is. But to me, it feels more like God's way of punishing me for a crime I didn't commit. Still, I guess I'm not complaining… right?
These days, I work as a waitress at a very private, extremely exclusive nightclub. Not the kind of job I ever imagined myself doing. To be honest, I had never even heard of Club Eclipse before I started working there.
The place was so secretive, it didn't advertise or post openings. No flyers, no websites, nothing. It existed only through whispers and connections, discussed quietly in circles I didn't belong to.
Back then, my life was simple. Maybe too simple. I worked double shifts at a small diner, barely making ends meet and dreaming of something bigger, anything that could lift me out of the suffocating loop I was stuck in.
Then everything changed.
It was a regular Tuesday afternoon at the diner. I was cleaning a booth when one of our usuals, a well-dressed woman who always left big tips but never spoke much, asked to talk to me before she left. At first, I thought I had messed up her order or maybe spilled coffee on her bag.
But instead, she gave me this faint smile, her eyes studying me like she saw something I didn't even know was there.
"Are you looking for something more?" she asked.
I didn't understand what she meant. Who asks that out of nowhere?
But then she explained. Said she was a regular at a private club that was hiring. Told me she thought I'd be a perfect fit.
I raised an eyebrow. A club?
I'd been around enough to know what that meant, tight dresses, leering men, cheap flattery, and overpriced drinks. I wasn't interested in becoming part of that scene.
But she leaned in and insisted, "It's not like that. This place is different. Classy. Discreet. Only the wealthiest, most powerful people even know it exists."
A part of me hesitated. But another part, the part that was tired of barely making rent and living off instant noodles, was curious. Desperate, even.
She scribbled an address on a napkin, handed it to me gently, and said, "Think about it."
The next day, I found myself standing outside the place.
It was an unmarked building with tinted windows, blending in with the city's corporate towers and high-end boutiques. From the outside, it didn't scream luxury. In fact, it barely whispered anything at all. But there was something about how hidden it was, how quiet and untouched, that pulled me in.
The doorman looked me over with a gaze that lingered just long enough to unsettle me, but he didn't say a word. He just stepped aside and let me in, like he'd been expecting me all along.
Inside, it was like stepping into a different world.
Marble floors stretched beneath my feet. Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings. Velvet drapes framed dimly lit hallways, and the scent of roses, old books, and mystery filled the air. I felt like I had walked into the kind of place where secrets were currency and silence was golden.
The interview was fast. Too fast. No talk of résumés or past experience. They didn't care how many tables I'd waited on or whether I could carry a tray with one hand.
They asked how I handled pressure. If I could read a room without saying a word. If I knew how to be present without being seen. They watched me closely, not for what I said, but how I said it.
I must've passed, because a few days later, I was officially hired.
That's when I realized Club Eclipse wasn't just a nightclub. It was a haven, a sanctuary for the world's elite. The kind of people who didn't need to introduce themselves because the weight of their presence said everything.
It wasn't just about serving drinks. It was performance. A game. A delicate, unspoken choreography.
You had to know when to approach and when to vanish. How to make someone feel like royalty without ever making it about you. You had to master the art of listening without hearing, and seeing without being seen.
And that…
That was just the beginning.