Chapter 6

Roseline’s POV

"Submit to me, and your life will be a lot easier,Even with the ring fund finally secured—," Isaac shamelessly texted me. "Otherwise, I’ll make sure no company in this city will ever hire you."

He was trying to force me into surrender. Rage burned inside me. I deleted the message instantly.

Dragging my heavy steps back to the apartment, I ran into Tiffany just getting off work. I greeted her, and as she headed to her room, I stopped her.

“Tiffany, I need… help.” It wasn’t easy for me to say. I wasn’t used to asking for help. Isaac used to praise me for being so independent—that’s why he said he wanted to be my safe haven, a place where I could be vulnerable.

I shook my head. Bastard.

She came closer, immediately pulling me down onto the couch. “Sweetheart, what happened? I remember just a week ago, you looked like you and your boyfriend were about to get engaged…”

Tears stung my eyes again, but I quickly wiped them away. I hadn’t talked to Tiffany much before, but every time I was home, she always gave me a kind smile.

I’d been too busy pleasing Isaac to bother making friends. Her gentle gaze finally made my guard drop. My best friend still hadn’t returned my call.

I needed someone to talk to.

So I told her everything—what happened between me and Isaac, how his family had hurt me, and most of all, Brian’s medical bills.

“Oh, sweetheart… I’m so sorry,” Tiffany whispered, pulling me into a comforting hug.

“No, it’s okay.” I lifted my head from her shoulder. “The bar you work at… are they hiring?”

I got straight to the point. I needed money—desperately.

She immediately grabbed her phone and called her manager. I watched her nervously as she hung up.

Then she nodded. “Yes, we’re still looking for someone. We can work the night shift together tomorrow.”

I threw my arms around her, overjoyed. But she didn’t forget to warn me.

“You know, bars always attract some rowdy guys… some of them just love grabbing the waitresses’ butts—” she said with concern.

I shook my head. “I know. I can handle it—as long as they don’t drag me into a hotel.” I smiled. She yawned—I could tell she was exhausted from a long shift.

I politely said good night and returned to my room, but not before sending out more résumés. I didn’t believe Isaac controlled every company in this city.

Once everything was done, I collapsed into bed—

The next afternoon, I stood behind the bar in my waitress uniform.

“Don’t be nervous. You’ll do great,” Tiffany encouraged me. I gave her a grateful smile. I’d find a way to repay her one day—maybe a nice dinner once I was back on my feet.

Suddenly, a familiar scent hit me like a punch to the gut. I looked toward the corner table and nearly choked.

Isaac. With a group of his friends, deep in conversation.

I bit my lip. Maybe they wouldn’t notice me.

“Roseline… corner table’s yours. Take good care of them. They’re VIPs. We can’t afford any mistakes,” the manager instructed.

My fists clenched.

“I… I don’t think I’m the right person for this. Could someone else—” I tried to back out.

Before I could finish, the manager snapped, “Do it, or you’re fired.”

I froze.

I had to face them again. They’d never liked me—not with my background. I was always the one trying to start conversations, trying to fit in, to win their approval and get closer to Isaac.

I had thrown away my pride, desperate to be their little clown.

But now, away from Isaac, my brain belonged to me. I wasn’t that naive girl begging for validation anymore.

I put on a blank face and walked straight to the table.

“Is there anything I can get you tonight?” I asked politely.

The air froze for a second—then all of them burst into laughter, except Isaac.

When the laughter died down, one of the guys smirked. “Rose, you really do look good as a maid.”

“Yeah, looks like our boy Isaac trained her well. I suddenly feel like tying her up and spanking her with my belt,” another one leered.

I was sure I bit my lip hard enough to bleed—but I wouldn’t back down. For Brian.

“Gentlemen, please place your orders,” I said in a flat voice.

One of the men suddenly stood up and grabbed the hem of my skirt.

“Don’t touch me!” I shrieked, yanking myself away.

I glared at the three of them. “I’m not a fucking prostitute. If you’re not ordering, I’ll go serve someone else.”

Isaac said nothing. He just sat there, quietly smoking.

I turned to leave, but the first man called after me.

“I like your fire. Drink a bottle of whiskey and I’ll give you a $5,000 tip. And I promise not to report you for your… disrespect.”

I stopped, my back still to them. I took a deep breath, then turned around. “Are you serious?”

“You heard me,” he said, nodding toward the bottle of whiskey on the table. “Finish one, and the five grand is yours.”

I walked over. There were at least ten bottles lined up.

I picked one up, bit the cork off, and tilted the bottle to my throat.

The 50-proof liquor scorched my throat. I choked, tears springing to my eyes, and heard their laughter echo again.

“Or… maybe there’s an easier way,” the second man suggested. “Like I said before—bend over and let me spank that ass.”

Disgusting. More vile than the alcohol.

I ignored him and kept pouring the poison into my stomach.

By the time I was on the fourth bottle, a hand grabbed my wrist. I looked up through my tear-filled eyes.

Isaac.

He was glaring at me with ice-cold fury. Before I could react, he dragged me out of the bar.

“Why are you humiliating me?!” Isaac shouted, shoving me outside, looking like a lion ready to tear its prey apart.

“I’m not yours. You can pretend I don’t exist,” I snapped, pulling away from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have no choice. Brian’s treatment costs a fortune. In the end, you’ll spread your legs and let—”

SLAP.

I swung hard and hit him across the face.

Why hadn’t I realized how much I loved slapping people before?

Isaac's eyes burned crimson with rage. He charged toward me like a maddened lion unleashed. Instinctively I began scrambling backward—

Behind me came a loud blare of a horn as a car door suddenly burst open.

An unmistakably familiar figure emerged—Adrian. Cosmic destruction scheduled for today, is it?

My mind flashed to how I’d cursed him at the hotel earlier; doubtless he’d relish watching my utter humiliation unfold before him now.

I squeezed my eyes shut in despair, but then Adrian’s low, resonant voice cut through the chaos: "What’s happening here?"

What’s his game? I longed to ignore his presence—after refusing his deal and now standing here disgraced by my ex, this scene must look like comedy gold to him.

Just as I sought escape routes from this nightmare, Isaac froze mid-lunge, stammering in shock: "Mr. Foster? This doesn’t concern you. Please step aside."

But Adrian gave no reply, his searing gaze fixed solely on me—glaring in my direction with volcanic intensity.