Chapter 2

The room instantly fell silent.

Someone immediately chimed in: "Mr. Brennan, you know her?"

Archer swirled his glass, his gaze sweeping over me with contempt:

"Not really. Just schoolmates. Had the honor of hearing about this senior's 'glorious deeds' back in the day."

He emphasized "glorious deeds" with loaded meaning.

Laughter erupted around the room.

"Since she's Mr. Brennan's schoolmate, shouldn't we get something more exciting?"

A man covered in gold rings jeered:

"Strip! Give us something hotter!"

My face went pale. "I'm sorry... I... I don't do that."

"Don't do that?" Gold Ring laughed out loud. "Coming here and still acting virtuous?"

He pulled a thick stack of bills from his wallet and threw it on the glass coffee table.

"Take off one piece, get ten thousand."

Others followed suit. Soon, a mountain of money piled on the table.

Under the dim lighting, that money gleamed with a dirty but alluring sheen.

I seemed to see the hospital payment slip, my mom's vacant stare, and the nurse's voice urging payment.

Time ticked by. The gazes in the room shifted from mockery to impatience.

"Strip or not? If not, get lost!"

Archer just sat there, leisurely smoking.

He was the judge controlling life and death. I was the lamb awaiting slaughter.

My nails dug into my palms. The pain brought clarity.

I raised my trembling hand and unbuttoned the first button.

My jacket slid to the floor.

Then my fingers moved to the zipper on the side of my dress.

The sound of metal sliding was faint but piercing.

The dress slipped from my shoulders, revealing the thin black lace lingerie underneath.

The air conditioning in the room was cold. My skin erupted in fine tremors.

I mechanically moved my body, trying to cover myself with my arms, but this only triggered more excited whistles and jeering.

Just as my trembling hand reached for the clasp on my bra—

"Enough." Archer crushed out his cigarette.

All sound stopped abruptly.

I froze in place, dress half-removed.

He stood up, looking down at me from above, undisguised disgust in his eyes:

"Like mother, like daughter—willing to do anything for money."

With that, he turned and left. The VIP room door slammed with a thunderous crash.

Once Archer left, everyone else dispersed.

I quickly wrapped my jacket tight, hugging my arms, head down, frozen in place.

Just then, a middle-aged man wearing glasses walked over.

I recognized him—he was one of Archer's lieutenants, a hall master named Wesley.

He stuffed a business card into my cleavage, his gaze lewd:

"Miss Sienna, right? Nice body."

He leaned close, alcohol fumes spraying on my face:

"I've got an overseas filming project that needs bold actresses for some 'art films.'"

"Contact me if you're interested. The money—I guarantee you'll be satisfied."

As Wesley left, his eyes lingered on my chest for several seconds.

The VIP room door closed. It was completely empty.

2

I numbly wiped the cold dampness from my face, walked to the table, and picked up the scattered bills one by one, smoothed them, and stacked them.

Counted twice. Forty-two thousand.

Fifty-two thousand total.

I silently calculated in my mind:

Mom's specialized medication for next month costs twelve thousand per dose. I could buy four doses first, with four thousand left over.

The weather was getting colder. Last winter Mom kept saying her hands and feet were freezing. This year I could buy her thick snow boots.

The heating in the rental apartment was never good. I could also buy a space heater.

Calculating this way, tonight... was worth it.

It was just being looked at, touched a few times, hearing some unpleasant words.

Compared to the cold numbers on hospital bills, what did any of this matter?

I braced my weak legs and stood up, carefully tucking the money into my bag.

Turning to leave, I saw the business card on the carpet's edge.

I stopped at the door, my hand on the cold doorknob.

The doctor had said there was a new treatment abroad for Mom's condition that could restore seventy to eighty percent of her function.

Cost: eight hundred thousand.

A number I didn't dare dream about.

What else could Wesley want me to film?

Nothing but those things that couldn't see the light of day, circulating on the dark web.

But if filming once could get me eight hundred thousand, what couldn't I sacrifice?

This body had been dirty since ten years ago anyway.

A little dirtier—so what?

As long as I could get eight hundred thousand.

I took a deep breath, turned around, and picked up the business card.

Three days later, I arrived at a private villa on the city outskirts following the address.

The staff inside were few and far between.

Wesley greeted me, smiling as he said they'd first take fitting photos, and had an assistant hand me an almost transparent lingerie set.

The fabric covered nothing. Wearing it was like wearing nothing at all.

Wesley directed me from the side to pose in various suggestive positions.

"Right, kneel down, arch your back..."

"Spread your legs a bit, make your eyes seductive..."

The lights were blinding. I instinctively wanted to curl up.

"Don't hide. Look at the camera. Imagine you're craving a man..."

I became a puppet, manipulated at will.

In my mind I repeated: eight hundred thousand, eight hundred thousand...

As long as I got this money, Mom could go abroad for treatment.

When the shoot ended, Wesley walked me to the door.

Just as I reached the villa entrance, I ran into Archer with a young woman in his arms.

Seeing me, his expression froze.

Wesley immediately stepped forward: "Mr. Brennan, what a coincidence!"

Archer ignored him, his gaze locked dead on me.

The girl in his arms spoke softly: "Hello, Mr. Wesley."

"And who's this?" Wesley looked at the girl.

Only then did Archer withdraw his gaze, his tone gentler:

"Lily Smith, my fiancée."

Delight flashed in the girl's eyes, and I saw it.

Fiancée...

So he was getting married.

I felt no ripples in my heart. I forced a smile.

Lily wore a white cashmere dress, her demeanor clean and refined. Standing with him, they looked well-matched.

Wesley heaped on praise: "Mr. Brennan and Miss Smith are truly a perfect couple!"

Then he patted my shoulder:

"Sienna's figure is also top-tier. The art photos we just shot—absolutely stunning."

Archer's expression instantly darkened.

I didn't want to linger. I said goodbye to Wesley and turned to leave.

I hadn't gone far when Archer caught up and grabbed my wrist:

"You came out of Wesley's house?"

"Do you know what he's having you photograph?"

I pulled my hand free: "What's it to you?"

"Wesley's married, don't you know?" He growled quietly. "Do you really enjoy being the other woman that much? Are you really that cheap?"

Those words stabbed like a knife into my heart.

My eyes reddened as I laughed, laughing until tears came:

"Yeah, I'm cheap. I love being the other woman. So what?"

I stepped closer, deliberately provocative:

"Or does Mr. Brennan also want to keep me? For old times' sake, I'll give you a discount?"

Fury instantly flared in Archer's eyes.

Before I'd finished speaking, Lily rushed up from behind and slapped me hard.

"Have you no shame? Seducing someone else's fiancé!"

She trembled with rage, about to strike again.

Blood seeped from the corner of my mouth, the metallic taste spreading.

Archer stopped her, his voice cold:

"Lily, don't touch her. She's filthy."