It Felt Like Pain

Clara’s POV

The car kept moving, and throughout the minutes that had passed, silence was all I got.

Not even an answer to my question was rendered to me. It's as though they were all following orders not to say a word.

After almost an hour of driving, we finally arrived at a massive, luxurious mansion that was sparkling with perfection.

The gates automatically rolled open, and the SUV drove in. I became even more confused than before. If we were going to see the boss, wasn’t this supposed to happen at the strip club?

This mansion looked more like a government official’s residence—or maybe even the White House. It was unreal; the design was top-notch, and the cars parked in the garage made me wonder if this was a place where luxury cars were sold. There were more than twenty cars, and each of those cars, if I were to do the math correctly, could be nothing less than a hundred thousand dollars.

I stared around, and my mind was clouded with astonishment. I hadn't seen anything this perfect and luxurious in my entire life. I didn't even know a place like this could exist here in this city. It totally felt like heaven, a paradise, a dream I could never reach. I began getting nervous not because of the boss I was meeting, but because of what I was seeing. At some point, I began having doubts if I was truly being taken to see the boss, or if Derick had a dark intention toward me.

The SUV door opened, and I stepped out, and with my feet on the clean floor I felt my legs getting heavy.

“Let’s go,” Derick instructed as he stood beside me.

I nodded, still unsure and completely blank on where we were going next, because this mansion seemed like it had no entrance—or perhaps that might just be the way it was designed.

“Could this be another client I'm to strip for or the boss himself?” Another thought slapped my face with a new, resonating doubt.

We entered the mansion, and the interior nearly took my breath away. The design was exquisite—clean, expensive, and far beyond anything I had ever seen in my life. It felt like walking through a dream I didn’t belong in.

I was dumbfounded, my lips parting in wonder and my eyes widening in surprise. My hands were shaking, and it wasn't fear this time, but something else—something inside me that felt perfect and unbelievable, or perhaps it might be from the luxurious and expensive things I had seen.

“Wait here,” Derick said, motioning with his hand, and I stopped in my tracks.

“We wait for the boss. He’ll come see us himself.”

I stood in place, nerves eating me alive. My heart thundered as I waited.

“Here you are again,” a voice called from upstairs. I turned and saw the boss descending the stairs with calm, deadly grace. He walked toward us and took a seat on one of the elegant couches.

“Please, have a seat,” he gestured softly and calmly.

I gulped down my throat and sat across from him, my lips sealed. I dared not ask why I was summoned. He was too dangerous. I’d heard enough to know that any wrong move could cost me more than I could afford.

“Well,” he began, his fingers laced together on his lap, “you must be wondering why I brought you here.”

I stayed silent.

“I have good news, and I have bad news. And among this an offer stands in the middle and it’s up to you to make the choice.”

After saying this, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

He dragged, and when he puffed out the smoke, it coiled in circles.

“Where should I begin? The good news? The bad? Or the offer?”

I hesitated, my eyes blinking with uneasiness, before frantically nodding my head like a deaf patient.

“Shaking your head doesn’t give a straight reply and what I need is a straight reply. Do you prefer me losing the last thread of resilience in me? You know what comes next,” he growled, and it was almost as though a predator was warning its prey.

“St-start with the good news, sir,” I stammered, my hands trembling in my lap.

He gave a small smile and exhaled another cloud of smoke from his mouth before calmly replying, “As you wish.”

And he began, “The good news is, you’ve earned my trust.”

My heart fluttered for a moment even though I was still confused. Then he continued, “The bad news is, your debt has increased to five hundred thousand dollars.”

My heart stopped.

Huh?

I blinked.

I felt like the world had just dropped from beneath my feet.

“I… I don’t understand,” I choked.

“What don’t you understand?” he said, his voice cold. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

I nodded, struggling to form words. “Yes.”

“The reason your debt has skyrocketed is simple. I found out your precious Alaric didn’t just run off with the money he borrowed—he stole an additional five hundred thousand dollars from me before he vanished. And you…” He leaned forward. “…you are the only person left to pay it off.”

My mouth went dry.

My vision blurred.

I was speechless.

“Stole?” I whispered, still in disbelief. That bastard. He didn’t just ruin my life, he destroyed it. And now paying off five hundred thousand dollars is like a death sentence to me.

How on earth... just how on this godforsaken earth can I accumulate such an amount to pay?

My heart beat faster, harder.

Was Derick right all along?

Would I really rot away as a stripper until I die?

Then the boss spoke again. “And here is where the offer comes in. One that would grant you freedom—complete freedom from your debt.”

I looked up at him, my eyes widening. Could this be hope? Or could this be another of his tortures?

“Sell yourself to me.” The words dropped like a bomb from the boss's mouth.

He continued, “Become mine. My puppet. My toy. My property. In return, I’ll clear your debt and give you the life you’ve always dreamed of.”

He paused, watching me like a hawk.

And the words dropped again, “If you refuse, your only option is to continue paying off the five hundred thousand. And you know how that works: by stripping in my club. Until it’s all paid.”

His words became like a dagger to my chest. I was bleeding, not physically but mentally.

Sell myself? How was that any different from the cage I was already in?

I froze.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t speak.

I couldn’t cry.

He leaned back on the couch, the cigarette between his fingers still burning, as he continued, “I’ll give you two days to give me an answer.”