Her Situation Is Getting worse.

Angel’s Point Of View

The next day, I received my cheque from Red and immediately changed out of my shorts into a more appropriate outfit before heading to see Mom’s doctor.

“Doctor Fred, can we proceed with the surgery now?” I asked, my heart filled with hope. He sighed, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his fingers together.

“I know you’re trying your best, dear, but we can’t proceed with the surgery until you’ve paid at least 60% of the bill.”

I swallowed hard. With the money I got from the man yesterday and the cheque I had just received, I could afford the surgery—but there were other bills to take care of.

“But don’t worry, Angel. I believe you’ll manage. The money you’ve already deposited is enough to get your mother admitted and begin chemotherapy,” he added reassuringly.

I pursed my lips, staring blankly at him.

“T-that’s a good thing, right?” I asked, my voice tinged with hope.

He smiled, and nodded.

“Yes, Angel. Your mom’s illness hasn’t reached a critical stage yet, so we can begin chemotherapy while we prepare for surgery.”

Relief flooded through me. I stood up as he did, gratitude swelling in my chest.

“Thank you so much, Doctor. I’ll have her admitted by the end of the week.”

“That’s fine, dear,” he said warmly.

I thanked him again and left. At least now, there was a glimmer of hope that Mom would be okay. But I needed to work harder.

Maybe I should take on another job. I had to get her surgery done as soon as possible.

As soon as I stepped into the house, my phone buzzed in my purse, making me jump. I pulled it out and saw Red’s name flashing on the screen.

My brows furrowed—why was she calling? I didn’t have a show today. I swiped to answer.

“Hey, Angel. Sorry for the sudden call, but you need to be at the club by seven sharp." She spoke urgently.

I frowned. “Why?”

“The manager wants to see you. Oh, and bring your resume along.”

"My res—”

“Okay, see you later, babe!” She cut me off and hung up before I could ask any questions.

I stared at my phone, confused. Why would the manager need my resume?

Shaking off my thoughts, I went upstairs to look for my documents.

I tore through my room like a madwoman, flipping through drawers and overturning stacks of papers.

“Where the hell are they?” I groaned in frustration.

“Angel, sweetie?”

I turned to find Mom standing at the door with a gentle smile. I forced one back, not wanting her to worry.

“Hey, Mom. Why aren’t you asleep?”

She sighed, folding her arms.

“Give me a break, sweetie. I’ve been in bed all day, and now my eyes hurt.”

I chuckled, and shook my head in amusement.

"Mom, your eyes hurt when you don’t sleep, not when you do.”

She rolled her eyes and sat on the bed. “I don’t care about that. What are you looking for? You seem worried.”

“It’s nothing, Mom,” I said quickly.

“Angel,” she warned, her voice firm.

I sighed. “Alright… I’m looking for my documents. I can’t remember where I—”

"They’re with me, honey.”

Relief washed over me, and I sighed. “Oh my God, Mom! You’re my savior!” I crushed her in a hug, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Come on, let’s go get them. But, Angel, what do you need them for?”

I hesitated, searching for the perfect lie.

“Uh… actually, I’m looking for a better job,” I said, avoiding her gaze.

Her brows furrowed. “Why? What’s wrong with the one you have?”

I shrugged and turned away, not wanting her to see through me.

“I just think it’s not paying enough, and you know how much we need money for your treatment.”

She took my hands, sighing deeply.

“Sweetie, you need to stop overworking yourself. What you’re earning is fair enough.”

I bit my lip. The problem isn’t the money, Mom. It’s the job. If she ever found out what I really did, she’d be ashamed of me. And now, Luca was getting into fights because of it.

I couldn’t let them be insulted because of my choices. I had to find a real job.

“Mom, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” I reassured her.

She sighed in defeat, though I could see the concern still lingering in her eyes.

“Alright. Let’s have lunch, then I’ll give you the documents.” I nodded, following her to the kitchen.

****

The only sounds in Mr. Noah's office were the hum of the air conditioner and the quiet rustle of pages as he turned them.

Cassie and three other dancers sat across from him, with Red standing silently behind the desk.

I sat among them, my heart strangely calm despite the tension in the air.

He closed the files with a decisive snap, his gaze sweeping over us.

“You ladies will be going to LA with me the day after tomorrow."

My head shot up. "Why, Mr. Noah?"

His eyes found mine. "For an interview with the club owner. I know this is sudden, and you may have other plans, but I assure you, you wouldn't want to miss this. Red will email you the details. You may all leave."

The other dancers looked like they were about to bombard him with questions, except Cassie, who looked thrilled. But then Mr. Noah’s voice stopped me before I could formulate my own.

"Angel, not you."

I spun around. He was staring at me, his index finger resting between his lips and nose, his expression unreadable.

"Yes, Mr. Noah," I replied, avoiding his gaze.

"Please, have a seat." I swallowed, the unease tightening in my chest, and sat down.

"I've heard a lot about you, Angel. One thing is that you're the best dancer in the club. Now, enlighten me: is pole dancing a hobby or a talent?"

I had no idea where this was going, but a subtle nod from Red reassured me slightly.

“It's neither, Mr. Noah. I learned recently; it's easy for me because I'm flexible." He remained silent, his dark green eyes fixed on me.

I squirmed under his intense scrutiny.

"Why, Angel?"

"Be… because… because I needed the job, Mr. Noah." I hated being questioned about my job.

For his sake, I hoped he wouldn't probe into my character; otherwise, I might forget he was my boss.

"I reviewed your resumè. You graduated with honors. What stopped you from getting a more…decent and professional job?"

I clasped my hands in my lap, fighting back the emotions threatening to spill over.

"I… I tried, Mr. Noah, but I couldn't get a job with a good company. There was always a reason for rejection."

My voice was barely a whisper. My eyes felt hot and wet.

"Why didn't you try harder?" My annoyance flared.

"I couldn't waste any more time, Mr. Noah. I… I have bills to pay, and my mother and brother depend on me. I couldn't afford to keep searching when I could pole dance and earn enough to support my family."

He was silent, watching me. Then he stood, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Tell me, Angel, have you ever considered the acting industry?" My forehead creased. I tilted my head, confused.

"Mr. Noah…?" A subtle smile played on his lips. He leaned against the desk, his legs crossed.

"Don't overthink it, sweetheart. I believe you'd excel in that field. Go home and get ready for our trip."

He flashed a surprisingly warm smile and returned to his chair.

"You can go now, sweetheart. See you Tuesday."

I left his office hesitantly, my head buzzing with questions I couldn't bring myself to ask. I knew I wouldn't get straight answers anyway.