ONE DAY AFFECTION

I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Violet's flushed face, felt the burning heat of her fever. By morning, she was a little cooler, but still too warm. Still too quiet.

"I have to go," I whispered to Sarah, kissing Violet's forehead. My baby barely stirred. "I'll be back with money for the doctor. I promise."

The promise tasted like ash in my mouth. How many promises had I already broken?

I got to the club earlier than usual, my stomach twisted in knots. The place looked different in daylight, sadder, more desperate. Just like me.

Marcus was in his office, counting last night's earnings. His gold teeth caught the fluorescent light as he looked up at me.

"You're early," he said, not bothering to hide his surprise. "Eager to make up for last night's disappointing performance?"

I swallowed my pride. It went down like broken glass.

"Marcus, please," I started, my voice already cracking. "I need to ask you something."

He leaned back in his chair, amused. "Oh, this should be good. What is it, Emily?"

"My daughter... She's really sick. High fever, won't eat. I need money for a doctor." The words rushed out of me. "Could you maybe advance me some pay? I'll work extra shifts, I'll do whatever you want, I just.."

"Stop." He held up his hand, laughing. "You want a loan? From me?"

"Please, Marcus. She's just a baby. She needs help."

His laugh died, replaced by that cold look I knew too well. "Listen to me very carefully, little girl. I'm not running a charity here. You want money? You work for it. Strip harder. Smile more. Give the customers what they really want." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And maybe stop being so damn picky about what you won't do."

My heart shattered into a million pieces. "But she's dying.."

"Then you better get to work."

I stumbled out of his office, my eyes burning with unshed tears. The other girls were starting to arrive, getting ready for another night of hell. I found a corner booth and collapsed into it, burying my face in my hands.

Everything hurts. My body, my heart, my soul. I felt like I was drowning, and nobody cared enough to throw me a rope.

"Hey, girl." A soft voice made me look up. It was Jazz, one of the older dancers. She had kind eyes, even after everything this place had done to her. "You look like death warmed over."

"My daughter's sick," I managed to say. "Really sick. And I can't... I don't have enough money..."

Jazz sat down across from me, her expression gentle. "Oh, honey. I'm so sorry."

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "Marcus won't help. Nobody will help. I don't know what to do."

"Listen to me," Jazz said, leaning closer. "I heard something from one of the other clubs. There's a group of rich men coming in tonight. Real money, not like our usual trash. Billionaires, business types. The kind who tip in hundreds, not ones."

I shook my head. "They're all the same, Jazz. Rich or poor, they all want to hurt us. They all think we're nothing."

"Maybe," she said quietly. "But maybe not. Sometimes the universe throws you a lifeline when you least expect it. You just have to be ready to grab it."

I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to believe her so badly. But hope was a luxury I couldn't afford anymore.

About thirty minutes later, everything changed.

The club's atmosphere shifted the moment they walked in. Even the air felt different, charged with power and money. Three men in expensive suits, moving like they owned the world. Maybe they did.

All the girls straightened up, suddenly animated. Dollar signs practically danced in their eyes. But I just sat in my corner, thinking about Violet, wondering if she was getting worse while I was stuck here.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice someone approaching until I stood up and walked straight into a wall of expensive cologne and solid muscle.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" I gasped, stepping back quickly.

That's when I saw his face.

He was beautiful in a way that didn't seem real. Dark hair, sharp jawline, eyes the color of storm clouds. But it wasn't just his looks that stopped me cold. It was the way he looked at me - like he was seeing something nobody else had ever seen before.

For a moment, the noise of the club faded away. It was just us, standing there, staring at each other like we were the only two people in the world.

"Don't apologize," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I'm Alexander. And you are?"

A billionaire was asking my name. My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Emily," I whispered, suddenly feeling naked even though I was fully dressed.

"Emily." He said it like he was tasting it, savoring it. "Beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

I felt my cheeks burn. When was the last time someone had called me beautiful and meant it?

"Would you like to get some fresh air?" he asked, gesturing toward the exit. "It's awfully loud in here."

I should have said no. Should have remembered that all men were the same, that this was just another customer with more expensive taste. But something in his eyes made me nod.

His car was a black luxury sedan that cost more than I'd make in ten lifetimes. The interior was soft leather and quiet music, a world away from the chaos of the club.

What happened next felt like a dream. His hands were gentle, reverent, nothing like the grabbing and taking I was used to. He touched me like I was precious, like I mattered. For the first time in forever, I felt like a woman instead of just a body.

When he moved over me, his eyes never left mine. He whispered my name like a prayer, and I almost cried because nobody had ever made love to me before. They'd all just taken what they wanted. But Alexander gave as much as he took, and for those perfect moments, I forgot about everything else.

After, he pressed a business card into my hand along with a stack of bills. Five hundred dollars. More money than I'd made in weeks.

"Call me," he said simply, his thumb tracing my cheek.

I threw my arms around him without thinking, overwhelmed by gratitude and something else I was afraid to name. "Thank you," I whispered. "You don't know what this means to me."

"I'm sorry," I added quickly, pulling back. "I didn't mean to.."

"Don't apologize," he said again, that same gentle smile. "Not for that."

I practically floated home, the money burning a hole in my pocket. Five hundred dollars! Enough for the doctor, for medicine, for everything Violet needed. Alexander's card was warm in my other hand, and I couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd looked at me.

Like I was worth something.

But my happiness died the moment I opened the apartment door.

Sarah was on the phone, crying. Violet was in her arms, completely limp, her skin pale as paper.

"The ambulance is coming," Sarah sobbed when she saw me. "Emily, she just... she just collapsed. She won't wake up."

As if on cue, my daughter's little body went completely still. And the world ended…