Chapter 2

　　Kayla's POV

　　I stood 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 had been fighting spilled freely down my face. Using the last cash I had, I took a cab and quietly headed home.

　　At home.

　　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 noodles 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 three steps from my bed to the kitchen, my legs trembling. I pulled open my 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 had 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, looking 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 It was outdated and slow; a secondhand shop would laugh at it.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. I was standing in the wreckage of a life slowly falling apart, and the 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 and it was 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 right out of 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 Sarah's contact. My hands shook so badly I almost dropped the phone. I deleted the draft of the text I had been mentally writing for hours 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 without looking back.

　　I caught the late night bus, staring out the window until the city lights blurred because of my tears.

　　When I finally arrived at The Velvet Room, the bass music vibrated straight through the pavement and into my bones.

　　I stood outside the entrance, the scent of expensive perfume and cheap cigarettes filled 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 straight into the noise.

　　The air inside was thick with sweat, smoke, and expensive cologne. It didn't take long to spot Sarah. She was on the lap of a man in a tailored silk shirt, laughing at a joke that clearly wasn't funny while her fingers traced patterns on his chest.

　　Then, her eyes scanned the crowd and locked onto mine. 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 sass.

　　She then, gently 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 glanced briefly at the dancers on the stage, then back at Sarah, my voice dropping to a whisper. "I can't believe I'm even saying this… but I want to do it."

　　Sarah's eyes flashed with a mix of triumph and something softer, almost like pity. She leaned in, her sass immediately returning.

　　"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."

　　Before I could even speak, 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 so 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 out to a sleek, dark sedan car, and soon enough, The driver drove and arrived at a luxurious hotel.