Hundreds of people dodged in and out of the traffic on the bustling streets of New York City, either crossing from one place to another or hailing a cab. The taxi drivers were in a hurry, darting in and out, slamming on their brakes, and narrowly missing whatever impeded their way. It was the highly anticipated Fashion Designer Week, where neon signs and bright lights illuminated the windows of the towering buildings. The Square sparkled in every color known to man, yet tonight, it paled compared to the parties and celebrations inside every restaurant, banquet hall, and lounge in the city.

Franchesco's, a renowned Italian restaurant, hosted this year's belle of the ball, fashion designer Layla Saladino and her steady beau, Ryan Benson, a rising star in the financial world. Layla's collection took the buyers by storm with unexpected style and glam. After years of hard work and dreaming of success, tonight, she had the blessing of celebrating her runway victory and her birthday.

The excitement and levity were high as the night progressed, and the Italian food was magnificent. Champagne bottles popped, and the liquor flowed freely. It was a night to celebrate their triumphs.

Carrying a two-tiered birthday cake topped with sparklers, three waitresses dressed in crisp black-and-white uniforms approached Layla's table of twelve, singing, "Happy Birthday to you."

Amidst the shouts of "Cheers" and "Happy Birthday," Ryan stood up, smiling, and raised his champagne glass high in the air, shouting over the noise, "A toast to the birthday girl, my gorgeous Layla." His left hand held a small blue jewelry box.

Layla's eyes sparkled under the chandeliers, and she blushed and gasped in surprise. "Oh, my! We've been working so hard, I forgot it was my birthday."

Diane laughed and hugged her best friend. "Layla, sweetie, I can't believe we pulled something over on you. So, it was a surprise?"

Ryan stood on the other side of her. Layla felt his soft lips brush her cheek. He whispered in her ear, "And I have one last surprise of my own."

Layla didn't care for surprises. The cake and singing had exceeded her quota for the year, but she'd laughed and smiled. These people had worked long hours and extremely hard to achieve today's achievement. They deserved to celebrate. And celebrate, she would.

However, Ryan's surprise felt wrong. He was analytical and constantly worried about the numbers and the next big deal. Lately, she felt their relationship was based on the stock market. If it were up, he would be busy selling behind closed doors and arrive late for dinner. If it was down, he might not even arrive at all, or it would be well into the night. His absence had given her more free time to produce today's winning show if she admitted it. A blessing!

Layla suddenly felt uncomfortable at her own party. She shifted her eyes from Ryan to Diane and back to Ryan. Her mind was racing, and then there it was.

She recognized the little blue box, and a warm pink flush crept into the birthday girl's cheeks, bringing a tidal wave of panic with it. Her thoughts were racing so fast that they were crashing into each other. Not here, not now, Ryan! She needed time — to think, to decide, to escape.

She stood up abruptly, pushing her chair clear of the table. Her hand knocked against her champagne glass, spilling the bubbly liquid across the table. The embarrassment heightened her anxiety.

Flustered, her eyes darted toward Diane as she whispered, "Cover for me."

For the table, she added, "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I'm that clumsy." Her trembling hand brushed champagne from her dress. "Excuse me."

Without another word, she wove her way through the tables while patrons at other tables yelled Happy Birthday and Congratulations to her. She nodded, smiled, and kept moving. The pounding in her head left no room for their congratulating words.

*****

"Diane, what just happened?" Dumbfounded, Ryan stared at Layla's retreat.

"I'm not sure, Ryan. The entire day has been overwhelming. She might need a moment to catch her breath."

The table was quiet. None of their friends knew what to say. The devastated look on Ryan's face said it all. "Maybe I should go after her."

"It's going to be alright, Ryan." Diane squeezed his arm. "Let me. You, Ryan Stapleton, are responsible for keeping this party going." She handed him his glass of champagne and announced, "A toast" as she retreated from the table.

*****

Layla leaned against the sink, bracing herself. She couldn't stop the trembling.

Diana pushed the door open and entered the room, rushing to her friend's side. "Are you alright? What happened out there?"

Layla shrugged. "The birthday girl certainly made a fool of herself. Spilling champagne everywhere. I looked like an idiot."

"You know better than that, Layla. Accidents happen. So, you spilled a little champagne—no big deal—except it was the expensive stuff."

Layla couldn't help but smile. "You're adorable. Who else in our crowd would think about the cost?"

"Maybe that's why I work in finance. Cost control?" Diane smiled at her friend. "Come on. Give me a hug."

Layla sighed and hugged her friend before she spoke, "I think Ryan was going to propose. He had a blue ring box."

Watching Layla in the mirror, Diane fixed her lipstick before answering. "That should be worth celebrating, right?"

Layla stared at her reflection and shrugged. "I—" She turned and leaned against the wall, mumbling, "I don't know."

Layla's behavior shocked Diane, and her jaw dropped in surprise. After a moment, she regained her composure and said, "Girlfriend, you have been dating Ryan for almost a year. It's the obvious next step, isn't it?" She turned the water on, flicking her fingers under the tap. "And his career is skyrocketing. You certainly won't have to worry about money."

Layla raised her eyebrow and scowled, her expression conveying a mixture of frustration and anger. "I can't believe you said that. You, of all people, should know I don't care about the money." She paused and looked in the mirror at the face staring back at her. "Honestly, I don't think I am ready to marry Ryan or anyone else. I like my independence."

"There's nothing wrong with that, but you make marriage sound like a death sentence. Every girl at our table would jump for joy to be in your shoes, not hiding in the bathroom."

"I know, but I can't help how I feel. He should know better than to spring something so important on me in a crowd."

"Well, he didn't. What's done is done. So, Miss Genius, what's the plan because you can't hide in here all night?"

A knock at the door stopped Layla from answering.

"Layla, honey, are you alright?" Ryan felt awkward talking to the bathroom door, especially since it was the women's bathroom. He checked the corridor before speaking again. "Layla, what's going on? It was just some spilled champagne. Our guests are freaking out."

Diane whispered, "He's not going away. You've got to tell him something."

"You tell him."

"Me? He's not about to propose to me. What do you want me to say?"

Layla pressed her face into her hands, thinking, "I can't go out there right now. I need a minute. Just tell him — tell him I'm fine."

Diane didn't understand what was going through her friend's mind, but she moved to the door and cracked it open. "She's okay, Ryan."

"I'm coming in." He put his hand on the door.

Diane glanced over her shoulder at Layla, her head shaking back and forth wildly. She needed to do something.

She turned back to look at a frustrated Ryan, her face scrunched in a lopsided smile. "No, you can't. She's naked."

"I've seen her naked, Diane. Let me in."

Diane pressed her side against the door, hoping to restrain him. "It's — it's her dress. You know how Layla is about her designs. It's her night to shine, and she's ruined one of her creations. She just needs a moment."

Before Ryan could object, a phone rang. It was Layla's phone.

Layla muttered, "That's Alyssa's ring." She patted the seams of her dress. "I know I put a tiny side pocket for my phone, but where is it?" Her nervous fingers found the slit and retrieved the phone. "You and Ryan go back to the table. I'll talk to her and be out in a few. I promise!"

Diane inhaled and exhaled loudly before opening the door and charging into Ryan. He stumbled backward into the wall. She grabbed his arm and tugged. "Come on, sport! Let's go get some more of that champagne."

"But —" Still confused, he looked at the door and then back at Diane. "What about Layla? Shouldn't I stay?"

"Nonsense. She's a big girl." She slipped her arm through his and smiled. "Layla needs a little girl time to talk to Alyssa. In case you haven't noticed, her sister not being home hasn't set well with her. Let them have a chat, and she'll join us in a few minutes."

Still not convinced, Ryan allowed Diane to lead him back to their table.

*****

Layla answered her phone, eager to tell her sister everything about today except about Ryan. She'd save that for another day. As she answered the video call, Allie appeared to be focused on something across the room.

Laughing, Layla teased, "Hey, Allie, it's the birthday girl! Are you calling to rub in the fact I'm another year older?"

At the sound of her sister's voice, Alyssa turned her head to face her. "Happy Birthday, Sis. Sorry. I thought someone rattled my door. I took a quick nap. Must have a little brain fog. How's the birthday girl? And the fashion show? I want to hear it all. Don't leave out a single detail."

"I wish you were here, Allie. It's been the best day ever. And now we're celebrating with champagne and yummy food at Franchesco's. Oh, and a two-tiered birthday cake with sparklers."

"I'm jealous." Scowling, Alyssa turned to look at the door again. "Sis, give me a second to see what's going on in the hall."

Before she could move, the door swung open, slamming against the entrance wall. A blood-curdling scream throttled Alyssa's throat as a man charged toward her. She could see the white cotton in his hand. Chloroform!

Turning toward the phone, she yelled, "Layla! He's going to kill me."

The phone went dead.

Layla slumped to the floor, sobbing. The last vision was her sister's eyes filled with fear and a hand covering her mouth. Although Layla couldn't see his face, the image of the tattoo of a cross and a serpent between his thumb and pointer finger was seared into her brain permanently.