Find a stripper to spend the night with

Chloe

“I want a div—”

A sharp pain exploded across my cheek before I could even finish.

The force of the slap sent me sprawling to the ground, my knees scraping against the floor as I fell. My head pounded, my vision blurred, and my cheek throbbed and I tasted the metallic tang of blood on my lips.

I wanted to cry, but I refused to let the tears fall. I pressed my forehead against the cold marble floor, trying to steady my breathing.

“Put your head up,” a voice barked, cold and venomous.

My chest tightened as I hesitated, but the command was not a suggestion. Slowly, I lifted my head, my eyes stinging as I looked up.

My older brother, Richard, stood above me, his face twisted in disgust. His sharp features, so much like my own, bore down on me.

“Repeat what you just said,” he ordered, his voice quiet now, but that made it even more dangerous.

I swallowed hard. I had never gone against my family before. I had known what I was walking into when I came here—known the kind of people they were. But I had no choice.

I had nowhere else to go.

I didn’t have money. I didn’t work. My husband and my family had made sure of that. I was a housewife, a puppet they had stripped of independence and tied down with invisible strings. Even the home allowance wasn’t given to me, it was handed to Amelia to run the house.

They had made sure to chain me completely.

“I asked you a fucking question, Chloe!”

I flinched as he moved toward the corner of the room, grabbing his golf club from where it rested. Without a second thought, he swung it at the TV, shattering the screen.

The crash made me jump, and I scrambled backward, my body shaking.

“I said,” he growled, his voice rising again, “I asked you a fucking question!”

I could barely get the words out. My throat felt dry, my lips trembling. “I… I said I wanted a divorce,”

He froze for a moment, staring at me like I’d just spoken a foreign language. Then he scoffed.

“Ah,” he said, his tone mocking as he began pacing. “Is that really what you said? I thought I misheard. But no, it’s true. You…” He pointed the golf club at me, his eyes narrowing. “You asked for a divorce.”

“Richard, I—”

“Are you out of your damn mind? A divorce?! A fucking divorce!” The golf club then slammed into the corner of the table, shattering the vase on it. I flinched, my back pressed against the cold marble floor as Richard loomed over me, his face twisted in rage. “You’ve really lost your mind, haven’t you?It seems it’s been a long time since I’ve beaten some sense into you. How about we fix that right now?”

My heart jumped into my throat as he raised the golf club high, his knuckles whitening from how tightly he gripped it.

I closed my eyes instinctively, bracing for the blow.

“Enough.”

The deep, commanding voice made the air in the room shift.

My entire body froze. So did Richard. The rage on his face faltered as we both turned toward the stairs.

My father stood there, one hand resting on the banister as he slowly descended.

My heart began pounding in my chest, harder and faster with every second. A deep, primal instinct stirred in me—something that made me want to run, to hide, to shrink into myself and disappear.

But I couldn’t move.

My father walked past Richard without a glance and sat down in the large armchair near the center of the room. He crossed his legs as if he had all the time in the world. The maids entered quickly, their heads bowed as they placed a cup of tea in front of him. He took a sip, his eyes focused on nothing in particular.

Finally, he looked at me.

“You want a divorce?”

I could barely breathe. My chest felt tight, and my vision blurred, but I managed a small nod at his question.

“Why?”

“I…I’m not happy with my marriage with Logan.” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I want to divorce him, sir.”

For a moment, he said nothing. He took another sip of his tea, his expression unreadable.

Then he nodded. “Okay,” he said, setting the teacup down. “That can be arranged. You can divorce him.”

I blinked, stunned. My father agreeing with me? Just like that? It didn’t make sense.

I stared at him, my mind racing. “I can?”

He smiled but there was no warmth in it. “Yes, you can divorce him.” He said, then paused. “Of course, that also means I’ll have no reason to keep protecting your mother anymore.”

My entire body went cold. I felt like the ground had opened up beneath me. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone casual, as though he were discussing the weather. “Your mother. The woman I’ve kept alive all these years for your sake. Do you think I do that out of the kindness of my heart?”

I shook my head violently, “Please,” I choked out. “Please don’t—”

“She’s alive because I allow her to be,” he continued, cutting me off. His voice never rose, but his words struck me like a whip. “One phone call, and she’ll be gone. And trust me, it won’t be quick.”

Tears pricked at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “Why are you doing this?”

“You’re the one doing this,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “You’re the one asking for a divorce. So go ahead, Chloe. Divorce your husband. Live your life. But don’t expect me to keep your little secret safe anymore.”

I hadn’t seen my mother in twelve years. Not since the night he had locked her away. My mother was a mistress, and Richard and I were half-siblings. That was one of the reasons Richard hated me, and he had always shown it since we were younger. Since the first time my mother had brought me to this mansion, the maids and Richard had always bullied me. And while my father didn’t do anything to me physically, he destroyed me emotionally. To manipulate me into being his pawn, he would use my mother to threaten me. I didn’t even know where she was. All I knew was that she was alive, and she was my one anchor, the one person who had ever truly loved me.

And now he was using her against me, just as he always had.

“I…” My voice cracked as I bowed my head. “I’m sorry.”

“Speak up,”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said louder. “I’ll… I’ll never bring it up again. I won’t leave my husband. I’ll stay with him.”

I could feel Richard smirking in the background, but I didn’t dare look at him.

“I’ll listen to you,” I continued, my voice breaking. “I’ll… I’ll always listen to you.”

My father smiled as he picked up his teacup again. “Good girl,” he said, taking a sip. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I stayed on the floor, my head bowed, tears falling freely now. The weight of my chains felt heavier than ever.

I couldn’t fight him. I never could. Not when my mother’s life hung in the balance.

And he knew it.

****

“One more!” I screamed, my voice cutting through the blaring music as I slammed my empty glass down on the bar. The bartender raised an eyebrow at me.

I didn’t know how I’d ended up here. One moment I was crying in my father’s mansion, manipulated and humiliated, and the next, I was behind the wheel of my car, driving aimlessly through the city. The neon lights of this place had caught my attention, and before I knew it, I was sitting at this bar, drowning my misery in whiskey.

When the bartender didn’t move fast enough, I pushed my glass toward him, my hand trembling just slightly. “Didn’t you hear me? One. More.”

He gave me a long look, clearly debating whether to humor me. Then he sighed and reached for the bottle, pouring another round of whiskey into my glass.

“You sure about this?”

I ignored the question, grabbing the glass and tilting it back, letting the liquid burn its way down my throat. The pain felt good. It was better than the dull ache I’d carried in my chest for years.

The bartender crossed his arms and leaned on the counter, his gaze scrutinizing me. “Do you even know what kind of bar you’re in?”

I frowned, the question pulling me out of my haze. Slowly, I turned my head, letting my eyes adjust to the flashing lights and smoky haze of the room. That’s when I noticed it.

The men weren’t wearing shirts—just jeans slung low on their hips, their bodies gleaming with sweat under the neon lights. The women, on the other hand, wore barely anything at all. Just bras, panties, and heels, their bodies swaying seductively as they danced on poles, their movements drawing cheers and whistles from the crowd of men watching them.

I blinked, my mind sluggish as the realization hit me. A strip club.

My eyes widened, and I turned back to the bartender. “Strip…” I whispered, the word barely leaving my lips.

“Yeah. Figured you didn’t know where you were when you walked in here with that dress, looking like you are going to the church across the street.” He gestured to my outfit—a simple, modest dress that now felt horribly out of place. “Just leave, this is too much for someone like you.”

My grip tightened on the glass, his words slicing through me like a knife. Someone like you. I’d heard it my entire life.

Don’t do this. Don’t do that. You’re not the type for that. Always be obedient. Always be perfect.

Always be what everyone else expects.

I was so tired of it.

So fucking tired of it.

The bartender’s voice pulled me back. “Hey, are you okay?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I grabbed the glass and tilted it back, draining the whiskey in one gulp. The burn in my throat was nothing compared to the fire blazing in my chest now.

“Miss—” the bartender started, but I cut him off by slamming the glass down and standing abruptly.

“No,” I said, my voice firm. I felt his eyes on me as I turned and walked away from the bar.

I was done being the obedient doll in a glass house.

This time, I was going to find someone. I was going to have fun. I was going to be myself.

If Logan can so brazenly cheat on me without having any shame, I would do the same with someone sexier and more attractive. I am going to find a stripper to spend the night with.