CHAPTER 1

"Rose! Wait up!"

Daryl came running toward her, breathless.

"Oh, what is it now? Are you going to pester me again?!" Rose snapped irritably the moment he caught up.

"That's harsh," Daryl said, his voice laced with disappointment. "I just wanted to walk you to work. Am I really not even allowed to do that?"

For two years, he had been falling head over heels for Rose, completely devoted to her even though they were nothing more than acquaintances.

"Can't you just mind your own business and leave me alone?" Rose protested. She pressed forward, ignoring him.

Daryl followed her in silence. When they finally reached the neon-lit entrance of the club, his feet stopped on their own. He never went inside. He couldn't bear the thought of watching other men crowd around her. Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, he swallowed hard and watched her disappear through the doors.

"Oh look, the queen of the night has arrived," Monique joked as Rose entered the dressing room. "Why are you late?"

"Better late than never," Rose replied flatly.

She slumped into her seat, dropped her bag on the vanity, and pulled out her makeup kit.

"A lot of people are waiting for you out there tonight," Monique continued, leaning against the wall. "You're doing great. I'm sure your calendar is completely full."

Rose didn't say a word, entirely focused on fixing her face in the mirror.

Monique sighed. "Why is your face so grim anyway? It's Daryl again, isn't it?"

Rose froze, turning a sharp, icy glare toward her friend.

"Easy there! I'm not the enemy here, Rose—you are," Monique raised both hands in mock surrender.

Rose rolled her eyes and turned back to her makeup.

"You know, you're making things so hard on yourself," Monique added softly. "I told you from the very beginning to stop this. You're going to let yourself drown."

Rose stayed quiet. Explaining her side of the story always felt entirely pointless.

"But you know," Monique mused, her voice tinged with a hint of longing, "if I had someone like Daryl—someone handsome, loving, and genuinely caring—I would have left this place a long time ago to be with him. Even if life got tough, I wouldn't mind. If we love each other, that would be enough for me."

"And will that love save me from poverty?" Rose countered, cutting her off. "We don't see things the same way, Monique."

"Geez, you really love to deny it," Monique sighed. "I've known you for a long time, Rose. Just by the way you act, I know you feel something for him too."

Rose took a deep, heavy breath. Slipping into her high-heeled sandals, she stood up and walked out of the room without answering.

She went straight to the club manager. "Mommy Lili, good evening. Who is my customer for tonight?" Rose forced a bright, practiced smile for the older woman, whose face was buried under heavy makeup.

"Go pick one... they've been waiting for you for a while," Mommy Lili replied, gesturing vaguely toward a section of wealthy men who hadn't chosen a companion yet.

Rose scanned the room. Her eyes landed on a man in his forties, wearing a tailored tuxedo with his hair slicked back. Walking over with a casual, confident stride, she slid onto the leather booth right next to him. The man’s eyes flashed with immediate satisfaction, and he wasted no time wrapping his arm tightly around her shoulders.

Hours passed, and the table quickly filled with expensive bottles of liquor.

"Can I take you out of here? Let me take you home, honey," the man said, offering her a broad, intoxicated grin.

"Sure," Rose replied, arching an eyebrow. "But you know my price."

"Name your price, my dear," he murmured with a glazed look, tracing a slow hand down her neck. Rose caught her breath as his rough beard brushed against her skin. She always made significantly more money when she agreed to leave the club with a customer—the final amount depending on how much time they spent together and what happened behind closed doors.

The man drove her to a well-known luxury hotel in an expensive sports car. Stepping into the grand lobby, Rose looked around, knowing exactly how the rest of the night would play out. She was numb to it now, a stark contrast to her very first time. Back then, she had been paralyzed by a blinding, suffocating terror, feeling as though her entire soul was being dragged into darkness.

The man's grip never left her shoulder as they checked in at the reception desk. Rose kept taking deep, quiet breaths, trying to steady the frantic rhythm of her heart.

"Do you want to eat first? We can order room service," the man offered as they stepped inside the lavish suite. It was just another expensive room to Rose, identical to the countless others she had occupied with club clients.

"I'm not hungry," she answered simply, refusing to look at him.

"How about... a bath then?"

"Do you want me to take a bath?"

The man smiled, shaking his head slowly. "I want you right now," he said, his eyes scanning down her body.

Rose stood up from the bed. With practiced ease, she began to undo her dress, letting her clothes fall away until she stood entirely exposed beneath his scrutinizing gaze.

"You know what? I really like you," he said with an ear-to-ear grin, stepping closer to her. "Every girl should be like this. Submitting completely to her master."

He pulled her down onto the bed, leaning over her immediately. His lips pressed hard against her dry mouth. The intensity of the kiss left Rose gasping for air as his hands aggressively moved over her skin.

When Rose woke up the next morning, the man was already gone. She lay alone under the heavy sheets, using the blanket to shield herself from the chill of the air conditioner. Sitting up slowly, a dull ache radiated through her body, and she could feel her legs trembling from the exhaustion of the night.

On the bedside table, a piece of paper sat next to a thick, bundled stack of cash. She picked it up. Counting the money, her heart skipped a beat—it was 100,000 pesos.

"Thank you for a wonderful night," the note read.

Rose brought the stack of bills to her face, breathing in the scent of the money. A flash of pure joy and relief washed over her features—but it was agonizingly brief. Within seconds, the fragile high shattered, replaced by a sudden, violent wave of tears and heavy, heartbreaking sobs.

"Mom! I'm home!" Rose called out as she walked through the front door of her house.

Her brow furrowed the moment she stepped into the kitchen. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, daughter! Daryl has been waiting for you for hours," her mother said with a light chuckle. "I honestly don't know what this boy sees in you."

"Go home, Daryl," Rose said coldly, deliberately keeping her distance and refusing to meet his eyes.

Suddenly, Daryl stood up and marched over to her. "Did you just come from another man’s bed? Did he make you happy?" he demanded, grabbing her arm tightly in a sudden burst of anger.

Sensing the dangerous shift in the room and the raw fury in Daryl's voice, Rose's mother quickly slipped out of the kitchen, leaving them alone.

"Leave me alone! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Rose yelled, wrenching her arm free and glaring at him with pure defiance. "It's like you don't even know what my job is!"