Kayla's POV- The harsh fluorescent light of the kitchen at the Golden Grill Restaurant where I worked as a waitress was usually enough to drown out my thoughts, but today, it felt like a warning disaster. Until I heard a grumpy voice.. "Kayla, office. Now." Of course it was Mr Henderson.. I wiped the damp sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, untied my apron, and went to meet him. A strange, sensation crept up the back of my neck. When i arrived, His office was a cramped, airless place that smelled of tobacco and floor cleaner. He didn't even offer me a seat. Instead, he leaned against his messy desk, shuffling through a stack of invoices with practiced Coldness. "I'm sorry, Kayla," he began, though his eyes never left the paperwork. "Corporate is tightening the belt. Headcount needs to be reduced by fifteen percent. You're the last person we hired, and frankly, we need someone with more flexibility for double shifts." I froze, my heart leaving my chest "Mr. Henderson, please." My voice trembled with rising panic. "I've never missed a shift. I've covered for everyone else. I need this job. I have medical bills to pay-" "Everyone has bills, Kayla," he interrupted, finally looking up. His eyes were cold, completely no sign of sympathy. "I'm not a charity. Your termination is effective immediately. Here's your final paycheck. Clear out your locker before the end of the hour." He handed me a thin envelope before turning back to his computer, dismissing me as though I had never existed. As I walked through the dining room one last time, the lights seemed painfully bright, and the customers' laughter echoed in my ears. I felt like a ghost wandering through a place I had given everything to. I hadn't even reached the bus stop when my phone vibrated. City General Hospital. My heart slammed against my ribs as I answered. "Ms. Williams? This is Nurse Davison. Your mother suffered a respiratory collapse about an hour ago. She has been moved to the Intensive Care Unit. Her condition is critical. You need to come immediately... and please stop by the billing office before coming upstairs. We need to discuss the deposit for her next round of treatment." The world tilted beneath my feet. The bus ride passed in a blur of gray buildings and city noise. When I stumbled into the hospital, the sharp scent of antiseptic hit me like a physical blow. The ICU was a maze of beeping monitors, hushed whispers, and the cold glow of medical equipment. I found my mother in the third room on the left. She looked so small. Machines surrounded her, controlling every breath she took. Her chest rose and fell in slow, mechanical intervals. My hand hovered over her frail, paper-thin fingers before I gently held them. "I'm here, Mom," I whispered as hot tears Flow down my cheeks. "I'm here." I barely had a few moments with her before a stern-looking administrator escorted me to the billing office. The room was cold, and the polished desk reflected the harsh fluorescent lights above. "The surgery your mother requires is highly specialized," the administrator said, sliding a document toward me. "Without the full deposit of twenty thousand dollars, we cannot schedule the surgical team. Furthermore, the hospital cannot continue supporting her on a ventilator indefinitely without a confirmed payment plan." She paused before delivering the words that shattered me. "You have forty-eight hours, Ms. Williams." Forty-eight hours. I walked out of the hospital with legs that felt too heavy to carry me. The envelope in my hand that contained my small leave salary was a pitiful amount of money barely enough to cover the hospital's administrative fees, let alone my mother's surgery. The next two days became my own personal hell. I stood in endless lines at temporary employment agencies. I begged for shifts at diners, retail stores, supermarkets, and warehouses. Every answer was the same. "We're not hiring." "we'll get back to you." "You're underqualified." "We'll call you." One manager at a high end department store looked me up and down, Scoffed at my worn out shoes, and told me to stop wasting his time. By then, I had completely lost hope. With nowhere else to go, I decided to visit my best friend, Sarah. By the time I reached her apartment, I was barely holding myself together. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen from crying, and exhaustion weighed so heavily on me that I could hardly stand. Sarah, who worked as a stripper at The Velvet Room, was sitting in front of her vanity applying makeup. The moment she saw me standing in the doorway, trembling uncontrollably, her expression shifted from annoyance to complete shock. "Kayla? What happened?!" She rushed over and helped me onto the sofa. "I lost my job," I sobbed, finally breaking down. "No one will hire me. The hospital... they're going to let my mom die, Sarah. I failed her... I failed at everything." She wrapped an arm around me, gently rubbing my back while I cried. For several long minutes, she said nothing. The apartment was silent except for my broken sobs. Finally, she sighed and looked me straight in the eyes. "Kayla... look at me." She gripped my shoulders, her voice dropping into a serious whisper. "You don't have to keep doing this the hard way. You're desperate, and I know someone." I frowned. "What do you mean?" "He's a billionaire," she continued. "He's not looking for a relationship or even a date. He wants an arrangement. One night. One transaction. The money for your mom's surgery is yours. It's quick, it's clean, and it saves her life." I stared at her in disbelief. "What kind of arrangement?" Sarah rolled her eyes. "Sex, of course. A one-night stand." She folded her arms. "And don't even start arguing because you don't have any other options left. He'll pay you more money than you've ever seen." I shot to my feet, anger Exploding through me. "How could you even suggest something like that, Sarah?" I snapped. "You want me to sell my body to a complete stranger?" "YOU DON'T HAVE A FREAKING CHOICE, KAYLA!" she shouted, tears filling her own eyes. "YOUR MOM IS DYING! You lost your job. You've spent days begging for work, and every single place has rejected you. Please... just think about it." My chest tightened. Unable to bear another word, I grabbed my bag and stormed out of the apartment. The tears I'd been fighting spilled freely down my face. Using the last cash I had, I took a cab and quietly headed home.

Kayla's POV- The silence of my tiny apartment was louder than Sarah's shouting had been. I sat on the edge of my bed, the air thick with the smell of old noddles and the cold, lingering scent of anxiety. My phone sat on the floor, its screen dark, but in my mind, I could still see the countdown clock ticking down the hours until my mother would be discharged into the harsh reality of the city streets. I stood up, pacing the three steps from my bed to the kitchen, my legs trembling. I pulled open my junk drawer, the place where I kept the "emergency" cash, though it hadn't been an emergency since three months ago. I emptied the contents: A few crumpled single dollar bills, A handful of coins, And a shop slip for a necklace I'd already sold to cover last month's rent. The total was less than twenty dollars. It was an insult. I let out a dry, laugh that quickly turned into a sob. I looked around the room, desperate for something else to sell off. My laptop? It was outdated and slow; a secondhand shop would laugh at it. My clothes? Old, and worn out There was nothing left to sell. I was standing in the wreckage of a life that was slowly falling apart, and a realization hit me with the force of a physical blow *sigh* Sarah was right, I had no choice My phone buzzed, vibrating against the floorboards. A notification from the hospital: "Ms. Williams, your mother's scheduled surgery deposit is due within 24 hours. Please contact the billing department to finalize payment." Twenty-four hours. The reality of it stole the air from the room. If I did nothing, my mother would be thrown out of the hospital, If I stayed home, I was choosing the easy path of "dignity" while my mother suffered. Was that really dignity? Or was it just a selfish way to keep my own hands clean while my mother paid the price? I stared at the wall until the shadows stretched across the room. My ego, my pride, my fear none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was the steady, rhythmic beeping of the monitor I had heard earlier that morning I reached for my phone, my thumb lingering over the contact for Sarah. My hands were shaking so badly that I almost dropped it. I deleted the draft of the text I had been mentally writing for hours-"I can't do it" and instead, typed three words that felt like a death sentence for my old self: "Are you working?" I didn't wait for a reply. I grabbed my bag, put on my worn out sneakers, and left the apartment. I didn't look back. I caught the late night bus, staring out the window at the city lights until they blurred because of my tears. When I finally arrived at The Velvet Room, the bass music vibrated through the pavement and into my bones. I stood outside the entrance, the scent of expensive perfume and cheap cigarettes filling the cool night air. The bouncer looked me up and down with a bored expression, but I didn't care. I pushed past him, walking into the noise. The air inside The Velvet Room was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, sweat, and cigarettes. I then saw sarah who was currently perched on the lap of a man in a tailored silk shirt, laughing at a joke that clearly wasn't funny, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. Then, her eyes scanned the crowd and locked onto me. Her smile didn't fade, but her posture sharpened. "Excuse me for a second, darling," Sarah told the man, sliding off his lap with a wink that promised a return, though they both knew better. She twisted through the crowd of bodies, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor, until she stood directly in front of me. The neon lights cast tired shadows over my exhausted face. "You look like hell, sweetie," Sarah said, though her voice lacked its usual bite. She led me toward the quieter shadows near the back bar. "Why are you here? Did you finally come to your senses, or did you just miss my delightful company?"She winked I gripped my bag so tightly my knuckles turned white. I looked at the dancers on the stage, and then back at Sarah. My voice in a whisper. "I can't believe I'm even saying this... but I... I want to do it." Sarah's eyes flashed with a mix of triumph and something softer like a pity. She leaned in, her voice in a little bit of sass. "Well, look at you, finally coming to your senses, don't act so tragic, babe, you're about to be the highest paid girl in the city for one night. And Trust me, the billionaire won't even know what hit him, and by tomorrow morning, your mama's hospital bill will be just a memory." Sarah pulled out her phone, her thumb moving across the screen with practiced speed. "I'll text him right now. He's picky though, but he's been asking for a fresh face for weeks. You're lucky I'm good at marketing." Everything after that moved in a terrifying blur. Sarah didn't give me a chance to back out. She led me into a dark slick sedan car and the driver drove and arrived at a luxurious Hotel and we went to the sterile, intimidating lobby of the Hotel. The elevator ride to the top floor felt like a trip to the moon. When the doors finally slid open, the carpeted hallway was silent, lined with heavy doors that felt like VIP entrances. Sarah checked her watch, squeezed my shoulder, and pointed to room 2401. "Go on," Sarah whispered, her sass replaced by seriousness. "Don't look back!." I walked toward the door, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. Every step felt heavier than the last. I reached the door and raised my hand, my knuckles just inches away from the door. My heart was racing so fast I thought it might actually stop, and as I stood there in the quiet of the hallway, I realized there was no going back. So I knocked.

Kayla's and Lucien's POV- Kayla's Pov- The door opened, revealing a man who seemed to command the very air in the room-Lucien Throne. He was breathtaking tall, with broad shoulders wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit, dark hair swept back, and a jawline that could cut glass. But it was his eyes that froze me in place: cold, piercing, and a deep, stormy grey. He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my simple, modest dress which was hardly what he expected from a girl sent by Sarah. His voice was a low, deep sound that vibrated in my chest. "Are you the one?" Unable to find my voice, I simply nodded. "Get in," he commanded, stepping aside. I obeyed, walking into the room. Inside, I moved to the corner, arms tightly folded across my chest, Shy and vulnerable My hesitation clearly irritated him. He let out a sharp, irritated breath and began to close the distance between us. I stepped back until my back hit the hard surface of the wall. He reached out, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate line along my cheek, his touch cold. "You're wasting my time!" he murmured. He didn't wait for a response before his hands moved to my clothes. As he began to undress me, panic surged. "Wait," I stammered, my throat dry. "I... I'm a virgin. I've never done this before." His hands stilled. He pulled back, his brow furrowing. "What?" The gravity of what I just said hit me, and in a moment of absolute terror, I tried to cover it up. "I-I just said that, I didn't mean-" His hand shot out, his fingers gripping my chin firmly, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Do you think I'm a joke? Do you think I have time for games?" Before I could answer, he shoved me toward the bed and descended on me, his lips crashing against mine. The kiss was so intoxicating, that it made me crumble instantly. I felt myself melting, my own body betraying me. He removed his own clothes with efficient, impatient movements while my heart beat faster against my ribs like a drum. He pinned both my hands above my head, trapping me, and began to trail kisses down the my neck to my collarbone. A moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. I went stiff, desperate not to enjoy the sensation, but his mouth moved lower, finding the curve of my breast. My moan grew louder, sharper, and I heard his low, satisfied growl. When he finally entered me, I gasped, a sharp cry tearing through the quiet room. He began to move, his pace rough and demanding, yet his rhythm was captivating. He seemed surprised by me, his eyes darkening as he leaned into the tightness he found. I was overwhelmed, the pleasure hitting me in waves until I finally shattered, gasping for air. He pushed harder, harder, until he reached his own release, a low, deep, "Oh, fuck..." escaping him as he collapsed against me. He slid out, his breathing rough, He glanced down, noticing the faint, undeniable faint of blood on the sheets. He stared at it for a long, silent moment, his grey eyes softened with sudden, dark realization. "You really are a virgin," he whispered, his voice barely audible before he turned away and drifted into a heavy, exhausted sleep. And I too was drained and tired that I fell asleep immediately Lucien's POV- I woke up in the middle of the night and stared at the ceiling, the silence of the room heavy. Beside me, she was curled up into the sheets, fast asleep. My pulse was still coming down, my mind struggling to process what had just happened. The sex... it had been completely off-script. She was clumsy, her body stiff and entirely uncoordinated at first. She lacked the polished, practiced rhythm of the women I usually paid for. There were no calculated moans or perfectly arched angles. Every flinch, every breath had felt raw, terrified, and entirely inexperienced. It had driven me insane in a way I hadn't expected, but none of it added up. I slipped out of bed, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. I dialed my fixer, Marcus. He picked up on the second ring. "Sir?" "The girl you sent," I said, keeping my voice low, as I glanced back at the bed. "Are you absolutely sure she's a professional?" There was a beat of panicked silence on the other end. "Y-yes, Mr. Thorne," Marcus stuttered, his confidence instantly crumbling. "Sarah, the stripper at the club, set it up. She swore the girl knew the deal. Is... is there a problem, sir?" My gaze drifted from her exhausted face down to the unmistakable faint stain of red on the white sheets. "No," I said flatly, my jaw clenching. "No problem." I ended the call, tossing the phone onto the armchair. I walked back over to the bed and stared down at her. She looked so damn innocent, a sharp, glaring contrast to the dark reality of what I had just bought and paid for. I let out a heavy sigh, pulled a thick envelope of cash from my inner coat pocket, and dropped it onto the nightstand. It was far more than the agreed upon rate. Without another look back, I threw on my clothes, adjusted my tie, and walked out the door.