A few minutes later, Steven pulled up to the address on the invitation card.

The property sat behind a set of tall wrought iron gates, flanked on both sides by a high brick wall that ran the length of the frontage and disappeared into the mature treeline on either side.

Through the gates, the driveway curved away from the road and out of sight, lined with low lighting that pressed warm amber pools into the ground at regular intervals.

A gatehouse sat to the right. A uniformed attendant immediately stepped out as Steven approached and he lowered the window.

"Name?"

"Steven Craig," he said.

The man checked a list on a slim clipboard, found what he was looking for, and gave a small nod. He stepped back into the gatehouse and the gates drew open smoothly and without sound.

Steven drove through.

The driveway curved gently to the left and the house came into view as he came around it.

The property was large. It was a Georgian-style mansion in pale stone, three storeys, with tall windows lit from within. Ivy ran along one wing. A wide stone portico framed the entrance, its columns clean and well-maintained.

The grounds were immaculate. Floodlights set low in the landscaping gave the lawns and hedgerows a particular angle in the dark, every edge defined, nothing left to chance.

The motorcourt in front of the house was where the evening announced itself properly.

Cars were arranged along the curved parking area and down both sides of the driveway’s final stretch.

Steven drove slowly past them and unconsciously took inventory of the cars he saw. There was a midnight blue Bentley Continental. A white Range Rover Sport, freshly detailed. A black Mercedes S-Class. A silver Rolls-Royce Ghost sitting at the near end. Further along, a Ferrari Roma in a deep burgundy that looked like it had been chosen specifically for this evening. A Porsche Panamera. Two matching black Cadillac Escalades parked side by side near the hedgerow.

He found a space at the far end, parked, and cut the engine.

He sat for a moment, looking at the house through the windscreen, wondering how much it would cost him to get such a place.

Then he got out.

A handful of guests were still arriving or had stepped out onto the wide stone steps to talk. The men were in suits that had clearly been made for them — dark blues and charcoals, no ties on most, everything expensive and apparently effortless.

The women beside them were dressed in evening wear that occupied the register between formal and understated, jewellery that caught the light without reaching for it.

They all looked to be around and the same age as him. It made Steven wonder if he had dressed wrongly for the occasion. But he didn’t dwell on the thought for long.

He walked toward the entrance with unhurried steps.

Two men in dark suits stood at the door.

One of them stepped forward slightly as Steven approached.

"Good evening, sir. Invitation, please."

Steven reached into his jacket pocket, produced the black card with the carved gold edges, and held it out.

The man took it, looked at the front, then the back. He held it for a moment, then he handed it back.

He stepped aside and the second man opened the door.

"Enjoy your evening, sir."

"Thank you," Steven said, and walked through.

What caught his attention immediately were the sound of low, composed murmur of conversation layered over a live jazz trio playing at the far end of the room.

Then the light coming from chandeliers set high and wall sconces arranged along a wide entrance hall panelled in dark wood. The marble floor that reflected everything softly. Tall, fresh white flowers on a central console table.

The entrance hall opened ahead into a larger reception space where the gathering had settled into its rhythm. The room was full without being crowded. Forty or fifty people, perhaps more, arranged in the loose clusters that formed naturally.

The guests were dressed the way the cars outside had suggested they would be. Women in evening gowns and structured cocktail dresses, jewellery at the ears and wrist and throat. Men in suits and blazers.

The room had the particular energy of people who were entirely comfortable in spaces like this one, who had grown up attending events like this and had long since stopped noticing the house or the chandeliers or the marble underfoot.

Conversations moved at a measured pace. Glasses of wine and champagne were held without urgency. A server moved through the room with a tray and nobody reached for anything quickly.

Steven walked forward into the room, taking in the whole of it without reacting to any particular part of it.

He was also aware of the reason why he had been invited to this gathering and he wasn’t going to lose his guard.

A server carrying champagne filled glasses on a tray, reached him and Steven picked up a glass, and sipped, as he walked even further into the room.

Just as he finished his drink, another server reached him and he saw that the server was carrying a canapé tray. He took one from the tray and thanked the server.

Steven gladly ate his canapé, finishing it and placing the plate back on a tray of another server who passed by him at that exact moment.

He continued walking around the room, observing everyone and also searching for Drew with his eyes. And while doing that, he did his best to enjoy the party. To hopefully do so.

It’s been over fifteen minutes since Steven arrived and he hasn’t seen Drew, and neither has anyone came to meet him.

He had even walked towards some group of guests to ask them questions but they pretended to be absorbed into their conversation, and didn’t answer him.

Steven wondered what could possibly be the reason for their snobbish attitude, then he realised that he was a complete stranger in the room and no one had come to introduce him at all, which meant that he was socially invisible.

So, they weren’t being rude exactly. They’re just not opening a conversation with someone they can’t place, because in rooms like this, not being able to place someone is itself information.

Realising this, Steven smiled, understanding that this was one of the things Drew had hoped for when he invited him.

Steven thought of what to do to fix the situation he was in. He thought of finding the host of the event and introduce himself as a guest, but he quickly shot down the idea as there were a problem with that idea.

Drew was the one that extended the invitation through his own people, which means Steven’s name isn’t on the host’s radar. Which meant that walking up to the host and introducing himself as a guest would immediately raise the question of how he got there and who invited him, which could create an awkward situation that Drew might actually enjoy watching unfold. And he wasn’t going to give Drew the win he so desperately want, so easily.

Steven thought of what else to do and the only idea was to just make himself comfortable, do nothing and wait for Drew to come to him.

He was confident that Drew would show up soon.

A server holding a tray with glasses on wine on it, passed and Steven took a glass. He sipped and started walking around casually, while he waited for Drew.

He didn’t have to wait long, as he noticed a series of footsteps behind him. He turned and he saw Drew leading a group of people towards him, with a smug smile.

When they reached Steven’s position, Drew’s smug grew even wider, showing Steven that he was enjoying everything and already had much more in store.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? I gave you the invitation but I never thought you would actually show up. You do know that this isn’t a place for the likes of nobodies like you, right?" Drew said.

Steven smiled when he heard this.

"For someone who went to such lengths to get me here, you really know how to talk. I’m curious though. How did it feel to publicly apologise in front of everyone you deemed less than you? I heard that you got slapped by your dad. Your cheek must have hurt so bad. I’m really sorry," he said with a face filled with mocking concern.

Drew’s face contorted with rage. And The people behind him looked at each other in surprise, curious to know what the history behind the Drew and the stranger was.

As for Steven, he was smiling inwardly.

What do you know? Two can play this game.