The invitation looked harmless.

Black cardstock. Gold lettering. A private address in the hills and the words Exclusive Night – Discretion Expected. My friend Lena had sworn it was just a high-end party for people with too much money and too little sense of consequence. “Free drinks, beautiful people, zero cameras,” she said. “We’ll leave by midnight.”

We did not leave by midnight.

The house was a modern fortress of glass and stone, tucked behind tall gates and quiet security. Inside, the lighting was low and amber. Men in tailored suits moved through the rooms with the unhurried confidence of people who had never been told no. Women in expensive...