Wilton Hotel stood tall in the heart of A City, sky-high and impossible to miss. Every inch of it exuded wealth—sleek trees, polished marble, even the air felt expensive.
Up on the top floor, the floor-to-ceiling windows were wide open. A gust of night wind rolled in, cutting through the warmth of the room. Pale gold curtains fluttered noisily, and the purple tassels at their corners drew lazy arcs in the breeze.
“Mmm—”
Sprawled out on the massive European-style bed was a young girl, deep in sleep. Her eyebrows twisted slightly, and her figure was wrapped in a sleeveless slip dress that barely held off the chill creeping slowly from her fingertips to her whole body. Instinctively, she hugged herself tighter.
The hem of her dress had ridden up, exposing slender ankles and delicate, snow-pale skin—temptation incarnate.
“So cold…”
The chill barely registered before a hot, clammy hand started sliding up her calf.
Who’s that?
Still groggy, Chas Parker stirred from sleep.
A gleaming chandelier swayed overhead, its sparkling edges blurring in her fuzzy vision. All around, the décor screamed opulence—giant European art pieces, probably worth more than a house.
As her head cleared, she became sharply aware of foreign hands roaming her body.
“Finally awake, pretty girl?”
A raspy, familiar-with-debauchery kind of voice chuckled beside her.
Chas looked down—and froze. A man sat right next to her, shirtless, belly round and glossy with sweat. His slick face, lined with age, shone under the chandelier light. What little hair he had left was plastered to his scalp. He ogled her, eyes practically drooling.
“…”
Chas was stunned speechless.
“Good, you’re up. Let me help you out of that dress.”
As he reached toward her neckline, she jerked up, clutching her chest with one hand and shoving his pudgy body away with the other.
“You’ve got the wrong person—I’m not that kind of girl,” she snapped.
She’d only come out tonight to scrape together money for her sister’s treatment. Didn’t find a single lead, got stressed, hit up a bar to take the edge off... and didn’t even make it through a couple of drinks before blacking out.
Now what? Woke up in some stranger’s bed?
“Pretty girl,” the man drawled as he leaned in closer. His sweaty bulk boxed her in, pressing her back toward the headboard. “I spent five million on you. Ain’t no mistake.”
Sold…?
Five million?!
She barely had time to process that before he was already climbing on top of her.
“Come on now. Stick with me, and I’ll make sure you’re set for life,” he grinned, tugging at her straps.
“No! Let go of me!”
Panic kicked in—Chas didn’t care how or why anymore. She thrashed, arms and legs flailing in full survival mode, doing her damnedest to get his disgusting weight off her.
“Aaah—”
Her nails scraped down his cheek during the struggle, leaving an angry red gash that immediately began to bleed. His expression twisted with rage as he stared at her.
Something in his face turned—barely human now, just feral and furious.Chas didn’t care about fear anymore—her only thought was to run. She fought against him, trying to slip off the bed and escape.
The man’s rage exploded. He wiped his greasy hair back with a heavy hand, pushing a few stray strands over his scalp, then clamped a fat hand around Chas’s arm and flung her toward the headboard. The next second, a slap landed squarely on her face.
A loud smack echoed.
Five red fingerprints quickly bloomed across her pale cheek. Her ears rang louder and louder, the room began to spin, and the pain slowly numbed out.
Just before blacking out, she caught his furious voice.
“Damn it, acting all pure when you’re just a whore. I paid five million for you—what, you think you can just walk out?”
Five million. Again.
She vaguely felt herself being shoved flat onto the bed. A cold draft snuck into the room, washing over her like ice.
Cold.
So cold.
There was a sharp tearing sound. Her dress was split open—and she slipped away into unconsciousness.
…
“Ah—!”
Chas woke up screaming, her body jerking upright. Around her was a ridiculously luxurious room that looked like it had been pulled straight out of a palace. A massive crystal chandelier swayed overhead, glinting in her blurred vision.
She sat frozen for five seconds, images from the nightmare flashing through her mind.
Wait… was that a dream?
She sat up fast, and the blanket slid down, revealing the soft pink silk robe she was wearing. Not the white slip dress from the dream. She moved her legs, nothing felt wrong.
That alone made her shoulders slump in relief.
Maybe it really was just a dream, just a horrible dream...
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Ah—”
But a sharp pain suddenly tugged at her lip. She touched it gently, fingertips brushing over a swollen cheek.
“…”
Her mind blanked. It felt like someone had hit her with a brick.
In that dream—or whatever it was—hadn’t that man slapped her?
She tossed the blanket aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. As she turned, an antique European piece caught her eye, clearly worth a fortune.
Chas froze.
This room—it was the same room from the dream.
The pain radiating from her mouth confirmed it.
That man. That horrible man. He… was real.
None of this was a dream.
“You’re awake.”
The voice came from the shadows—deep, smooth, but colder than ice.
Chas flinched. He was back?
She instinctively backed up to the bed’s headboard, yanking the blanket up to shield herself.
In the corner, lounging in a plush single-seater, sat a man in an impeccably tailored black suit. His figure was lean and tall. He swirled a glass of red wine in one elegant hand, his pale fingers glinting under the chandelier. His dark eyes locked onto her, like a hawk eyeing prey, filled with biting hatred.
A stranger.
She had no idea when he even got there.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
Her voice rasped, like she’d been screaming all night. The pain at her mouth flared again as she spoke.
Something horrible really must’ve happened...
“I simply did to you what you once did to me—sold you for five million.”
