Chapter One

Sonia's POV.

The club never slept. It's always crowdy as expected, some people make it as their

Lights pulsed like a living thing, strobes cutting through thick air heavy with perfume, sweat, and alcohol. Bass vibrated through the floor, up my legs, into my bones, until even my heartbeat felt borrowed from the music. Bodies pressed together on the dance floor, laughing, grinding, losing themselves to the night like tomorrow didn’t exist. 

That's their usual routine.

I moved through the tables with a tray balanced on one palm, weaving between tables like I've done a thousand times before.

“Over here, sweetheart.”

“Hey, baby, yeah, you.”

“Damn, look at her body.”

I didn’t turn my head, didn’t let my face change. I’d learned early that reacting only made it worse. Hands brushed too close as I passed. Eyes lingered longer than they should have. One man leaned back in his chair and whistled low.

“She's got curves like that and is still serving drinks,” he laughed to his friends. “That’s a crime.”

Another added, “Bet she knows exactly what she’s doing.”

I didn’t. I just needed the tips.

I set drinks down, smiled when required, ignored comments that crawled under my skin. Every step was cautious, head down, shoulders straight, don’t spill, don’t provoke the customer because he was watching.

I could feel the manager’s eyes even when I couldn’t see him, standing near the bar like a king surveying his court. He loved this part, the way his staff bent themselves into shapes for customers, the humiliation meant nothing to him. The moment someone pushes back, he will swoop in with that fake charm and make an example out of them.

So I endured, I must get paid at all costs. I need to survive, that's all that matters. 

When a man at Table Seven leaned too close and murmured, “You should smile more. Makes men generous,” I smiled.

When another brushed his fingers against my hip as I passed, I pretended not to notice.

I told myself it was temporary. That I will find something better. That this wasn’t all I was worth.

By the time I finished my round, my feet ached and my jaw hurt from holding myself together.

Bailey caught my eye across the room and lifted her eyebrows in silent question.

You okay?

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I was telling the truth.

I was sliding empty glasses onto the bar when the manager’s voice cut through the noise.

“Sonia.”

My spine stiffened.

He didn’t raise his voice. He never needed to.

I turned. “Yes?”

He smiled, that thin, knowing smile that never reached his eyes. “Got a private request. Room service.”

My stomach dropped. “I can’t...”

“No.” His gaze flicked deliberately over me. “They asked for you.”

I felt Bailey tense beside me.

“What room?” I asked, already knowing it didn’t matter.

“270.” He slid a small bottle of water across the counter toward me, casual. “Drink this. You’ve been running around all night. I don’t want you to go in there with your dry mouth ”

It looked ordinary. Sealed. Cold. Just like the ones we kept behind the bar for staff.

My throat was dry.

“Thank you,” I said, because saying no never went well.

I twisted the cap and drank half of it in one go. The water was cool, clean and chilled. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and set the bottle down.

Bailey leaned closer. “Are you sure you’re good?”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I will be quick.”

The manager handed me the tray himself this time, his fingers brushing mine for half a second too long. “Don’t disappoint.”

I walked away before he could say anything else.

The hallway leading to the private rooms was quieter, the music duller, like the club was holding its breath back here. The carpet muffled my steps. The lights dimmed.

Room 217.

I knocked once.

No answer.

I knocked a second time, firmer.

Still nothing.

Maybe he was in the bathroom, I thought. It happens sometimes.

I turned the handle. It opened.

The room was dark, curtains drawn, the low hum of running water coming from the bathroom. Steam curled faintly under the door.

“Hello?” I called softly.

No response.

I stepped inside, keeping close to the door. The bed was neatly made. The air smelled faintly of soap and something sharp, alcohol, maybe. I crossed to the drawer and set the tray down, my movements quick, professional.

The bed was tempting and I just wanted to feel it for a second. It won't kill.

Then my head swam.

Not long, It was like my body forgot how to hold itself all at once. Heat bloomed low in my stomach, spreading in slow, unfamiliar waves. My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, like every nerve had been turned up.

I frowned, gripping the edge of the dresser.

Breathe.

The room tilted slightly. My pulse thudded loud in my ears.

Something was wrong.

I straightened, intending to leave now before the man came out of the bathroom but my legs felt heavy, uncooperative. A strange softness crept into my limbs, my thoughts blurring around the edges.

The water.

The bottle flashed into my mind, sharp and sudden.

No.

I took a step toward the door.

My knees gave out.

I barely had time to turn before I collapsed sideways onto the bed, the mattress swallowing me whole. The fabric was warm, too warm, and my body sank into it like it belonged there.

The bathroom door opened.

Then I heard Footsteps.

My vision was blurry but a shadow moved across my vision, but my eyelids wouldn’t stay open. My thoughts slipped, sliding away from me no matter how hard I tried to cling to them.

Get up.

Move.

But my body didn’t listen and it reacted with the shadow instead. I felt a sift cold lips on my body.

Darkness folded over me gently, like a lie whispered close to my ear.

Morning light woke me.

It burned through the curtains, harsh and unforgiving, landing straight on my face. My head pounded, every movement sending sharp reminders through my skull.

I sat up slowly, panic flaring the moment my surroundings registered.

The room is not mine.

The bed.

I looked down at myself, my clothes were half on, rumpled on my skin. My body felt wrong, heavy and hollow at the same time. There were gaps in my memory that made my chest tighten.

I didn’t wait to understand them.

I grabbed my shoes, and slipped out of the room like a ghost, heart hammering all the way down the hallway.

The club was quieter now, emptying into its morning hangover. Bailey was near the bar, wiping down surfaces, her movements automatic.

She looked up.

Her face changed instantly.

“Sonia?” She rushed toward me. “What happened? Where did you...”

I broke.

The moment she touched me, my composure shattered. I clutched her shirt and sobbed, the sound ripping out of me like it had been trapped all night.

“I don’t remember,” I choked. “Bailey, I don’t remember.”

She held me tightly, one hand cradling the back of my head, rocking me slightly like she used to when we were younger and the world felt too big.

“You’re safe,” she murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re here.”

“The water,” I whispered through tears. “He gave me water.”

Her grip tightened.

“That bastard,” she said, voice shaking with fury and fear. “I should’ve gone with you. I should’ve..”

“No,” I said quickly, pulling back just enough to look at her. “It’s not your fault. It’s never been your fault.”

We stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other in the quiet aftermath of a night that had taken something from me I couldn’t yet name.

But I knew one thing with absolute clarity.

This wasn’t over. Something like this is still going to happen again. How am I going to survive this way?

Tears trick down my cheeks, knowing how hard I'm trying to survive as an orphan.