“Sienna, you’re so tight…” At the graduation party, Archer Brennan—who’d been pursuing me for half a year—got me drunk and tricked me into bed. When I woke up, he gripped my chin and sneered: “Last night, I wasn’t the only one who slept with you.” Opening my phone, I discovered photos of me in bed with a group of married men had gone viral. My mom was so furious she slapped him. He shoved her hard to the ground: “Weren’t you the one who loved being a mistress? Now your daughter’s a mistress to a whole group of men!” My mom had a stroke from the rage. After they revived her, her mental capacity was permanently stuck at age five. To support my mom, I became a pole dancer in the red-light district. Ten years later, as I twisted my body through swirling smoke, I saw those familiar eyes in the VIP section. I spun around the pole, the friction of the metal bar making the inside of my thighs burn. Ten years, and this body still hadn’t gotten used to this kind of friction. But I didn’t dare stop. Every stack of tips from the audience below meant another payment toward my mom’s medical bills. Inverted hold, split, backbend. Just as I was hanging from one hand, preparing to slide down, my gaze crashed into a pair of eyes. My breath caught. My hand slipped. I fell straight down from the three-meter pole. “THUD—” I slammed hard into the floor, searing pain shooting through my ankle. The crowd below instantly erupted in jeers and curses. “What the hell was that? If you can’t dance, don’t hog the stage!” “Wasting my time. Get the hell off!” Manager Diane rushed onto the stage, apologizing in all directions while roughly yanking me up and hissing under her breath: “Sienna! Are you deliberately trying to sabotage us? Do you know who’s here tonight? If you piss off the VIP guests, we could sell you and still not cover the damages!” I clutched my swelling ankle, cold sweat pouring down from the pain. Looking up toward the second floor again—that figure was already gone. Was it a hallucination? “Still standing there? Get backstage!” Diane shoved me hard. I stumbled off stage, every step like walking on knife points. Back in the closet-sized changing room, I’d barely sat down when a server pushed the door open and tossed out: “Diane says since you screwed up the performance tonight, all your pay is docked.” “All of it?” I shot to my feet. “But my mom has rehabilitation therapy tomorrow.” I grabbed his sleeve. “Can you please ask Diane for some mercy? I promise I’ll be more careful next time.” The server shook me off, impatience all over his face: “Beg for what? You’re the one who messed up. Who else is to blame?” The door slammed shut. I collapsed back into the chair, the pain in my ankle and the panic in my heart twisting together. Treatment fees, medicine costs, loan shark interest… a pile of bills circled in my mind, crushing until I couldn’t breathe. If tonight’s pay was gone, Mom’s rehabilitation would have to be postponed. Just as I was drowning in worry, the door suddenly opened. Diane walked in, her expression softer than before: “Sienna, come with me. A guest in the VIP section specifically requested you for a private dance. Triple the normal rate.” My heart sank. I knew exactly what going into a private room meant. Enclosed space, hard liquor, and those hands that wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’d always avoided these situations. But thinking of my mom’s treatment fees, thinking of those life-or-death bills, I hesitated. “Not going?” Diane raised an eyebrow. “Then forget about this month’s base pay too.” “I’ll go.” I bit through my lower lip. Having reached this point, what right did I have to be picky? Diane smiled. “That’s more like it. We all work at Red Hall—what’s with the high-and-mighty act?” “Change into a different dress. Don’t keep the guest waiting.” I pulled out a relatively conservative black slip dress from the bottom of the closet, threw on a jacket, and followed Diane to the top-floor VIP room. Pushing open the door, Diane instantly plastered on a smile: “Mr. Brennan, I’ve brought her. This is our top performer, Sienna.” I followed her gaze, and my smile froze. Sitting in the main seat on the sofa was the very person I’d seen from the stage—Archer. Ten years apart, he was no longer the naive underclassman who used to follow me around. Now he wore a black suit that emphasized his tall frame. His features carried the cold severity of a mafia boss, his entire presence radiating an intimidating aura that warned people to keep away. And I had become a dancer in a red-light district, making a living by selling performances. The humiliation lasted only half a second before I lowered my eyes and put on a professional fake smile. The current me had no right to emotions. I walked to the small round platform in the center of the room and moved my body to the music. Sweat mixed with black eyeliner streamed into my eyes, stinging sharply. When the song ended, sparse applause sounded. Archer finally spoke, his voice laced with bone-chilling mockery: “Sienna, it’s been ten years. You’ve really made something of yourself.”
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.”
With that, he glanced at me with disgust, put his arm around Lily, and turned away. I covered my face, watching their backs, and finally crouched down and cried out loud. When I’d cried enough, I wiped away the tears and blood, braced my knees, and stood up. I walked for three hours before reaching a bus stop. Just as I sat down, my phone buzzed. A bank message popped up: [Deposit received: $800,000 USD] My finger traced across those numbers. Ice cold, bone-piercing. Mom’s treatment fund was complete. I leaned against the bus window, watching the neon lights fly backward outside. Memories from ten years ago surged up. Back then, I was a piano prodigy at the music conservatory. My professor said these hands of mine belonged in concert halls. Until Archer appeared. He was an underclassman one year behind me, the most popular guy at school. Wild, flashy, eyes like a wolf when he looked at people. He said he’d fallen for me at first sight. Pursued me for half a year. The night of the graduation party, he said he had a surprise for me and got me blackout drunk. But when I woke up, explicit photos of me with a group of married men had spread across the entire internet. I became a homewrecker everyone wanted to condemn. I went to find him like a madwoman. He just leaned against his motorcycle, smiling cruelly: “Getting close to you was never about liking you.” “Your mom seduced my dad back then and drove my mom to jump into the sea and commit suicide.” “The debt she owes, you’re paying back.” I didn’t believe it. I shook my head desperately. When my mom came looking, she slapped Archer across the face. He backhanded and shoved my mom to the ground. “Weren’t you the one who loved being a mistress? I just helped your daughter carry on the family tradition.” My mom had a stroke on the spot from rage. After they resuscitated her, her mental capacity was permanently frozen at age five. And I was expelled from school, spurned by everyone. With nowhere to turn, I entered Red Hall. I’d been there ten years. Now I finally had eight hundred thousand. Mom could be saved. But what about me? What about the truth that had been buried? Had my mom… really done those things? The bus announcement pulled me back from my thoughts. I put away my phone and got off. Just as I reached the entrance to the old apartment complex where I rented, neighbor Mrs. Liu rushed out in a panic: “Sienna! Something terrible! Your mom’s missing!” My head buzzed. Blood rushed to the top of my skull. “I just wanted to bring your mom some pastries. The door was open and no one was inside!” “I searched the whole area and couldn’t find her. What do we do?” I couldn’t hear the rest. I shook off Mrs. Liu and rushed upstairs like a madwoman. The door to my home stood wide open. Mom wasn’t there. “Mom—!” My hoarse shout echoed through the empty hallway. I rushed downstairs, sprinting wildly through the night streets. “Mom! Where are you?!” Cold wind howled. The streets were empty. Fear wrapped around my heart like vines. What if she got lost? What if she fell? What if… she got hit by a car? What if she ran into bad people? No, that won’t happen— I rushed through an intersection without checking the light. The piercing sound of brakes tore through the night sky. My legs gave out. I collapsed to the ground. My knees screamed with pain. A car door was violently thrown open. A tall figure charged out, wrapped in fury. “Do you have a death wish?! Walking without looking—” The scolding stopped abruptly. I raised my tear-filled eyes and saw who it was. Archer. Seeing it was me, surprise flashed in his eyes. “Sienna?” Hearing his voice, ten years of grievances and terror broke through the dam. I sat on the cold ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Archer’s expression was complex, then quickly replaced by mockery. He sneered: “What? Not enough money selling your body, so now you’ve moved on to insurance fraud? How much do you want? Just say it.” As he spoke, he reached out to pull me up. Just then, a figure suddenly rushed out, forcefully pushing Archer away and spreading her arms in front of me, shouting with vacant urgency: “Don’t bully Sienna! Don’t bully Sienna! Bastard! Go away! Don’t touch my Sienna!” It was Mom. Archer was pushed back a step. When he saw who was blocking me, his entire body froze.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “355473”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn
Leave a Reply