Chapter 2: The devil’s handshake

Morning hit like a punishment.

The sunlight slicing through my cracked blinds stabbed at my eyes, and the pounding in my skull wasn’t from booze—it was from reality. Rent. Past due notices. Mom’s prescriptions. My sister’s constant texts about school expenses. All of it pressing down like a weight I couldn’t shake.

I rolled out of bed, stared up at the ceiling fan rattling like it was about to give up on life. My throat was dry. My chest tight. One thread left holding me together.

The kitchen didn’t help. My cabinet mocked me with emptiness, the only survivor a stale pack of crackers. I tore it open anyway. Breakfast of champions.

Halfway through chewing one, my phone buzzed. Laura.

I hesitated before answering. My stomach still burned with the loss of my job last night with me wobbling off my routine in front of everyone. Fired. Humiliated. My money gone before I’d even earned it.

I swiped to answer. “Yeah?”

Her voice rushed through the line, low and urgent. “Rae, you’re not gonna believe this. The club—our club—it’s under new management.”

I froze mid-chew. “What do you mean, new management?”

“I mean someone bought it. Just like that. Some strange woman. She was somewhere in the VIP lounge, I’m not sure if you’ll remember her…”

The cracker crumbs turned to dust in my throat.

That woman. That stare. The one that pinned me to the floor harder than gravity when I fell.

“Wait,” I said slowly. “How does that even happen?”

Whoever this woman was, she either had to be crazy or crazy rich. Who the hell buys a club like ours? Of all the places in the city, she picked this one—the dive where the lights flickered, the carpets stank of cheap liquor, and the bouncers looked like they hadn’t been paid in weeks.

The chaos that unraveled nearly every night was never surprising, especially because everyone was fake . Broken glass under the tables, customers yelling at dancers for change they already spent, bathrooms that smelled like a crime scene. Calling it a shithole would’ve been polite.

And yet, she bought it. Just like that.

“That’s what management told us this morning. She walked in, signed papers, and now it’s hers. Rae… she was asking about you.”

I nearly dropped my phone. “What?”

“Yeah. About you.” Laura’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Listen, maybe this is good. Maybe she’s the reason you got fired, but maybe she can give you your job back. You were good, Rae. Like really good. She noticed you. That’s gotta mean something.”

I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, trying to steady the pounding in my chest. A lifeline. Maybe that was it. A chance.

“Maybe,” I muttered, though the memory of her stare made me uneasy.

After we hung up, I sat in silence, chewing on what Laura said. A new owner. That woman. Asking about me.

Maybe this was my shot to crawl back, fix things, keep the money flowing to Mom and my sister. Because without it, we’re screwed.

It’s been nearly four years now, and the lie is still alive. My mom and my sister think I’m in med school, too busy saving lives on paper to bother much with my own. I hardly talk to them—when I do, it’s quick phone calls about money. “I sent some, I’ll send more soon.” That’s usually the whole conversation. They brag about me like I’m grinding away in some lecture hall outside the city, buried in books and chasing a degree that’ll change all our lives. They’re so proud of what i’m not.

No video calls. Never. I can’t risk them seeing where I really am, what I really do. So I hide behind excuses: exams, labs, endless hospital shifts. Always “busy.” Always out of reach.

My little sister… that’s the part that eats at me. She never gets to tell me about her life, her crushes, her bad days, the little things a big sister is supposed to know. I shut down her questions before they even start, dodging them so I don’t have to pile more lies on top of the mountain I’ve already built. Maybe then I’ll feel less guilty— avoiding the questions so I’ll have to lie less.

I was still stuck in that thought when a knock rattled my door.

Loud, Firm. The kind that didn’t ask permission.

My stomach dropped.

I shuffled over, peeked through the peephole. A man in a black suit. Sunglasses, even though it was morning. The kind of man you don’t ignore.

My gut twisted.

I cracked the door. “Yeah?”

His voice was steady, clipped. “Miss Rae?”

I crossed my arms. “Who’s asking?”

He handed me a card. Black, sleek, with just one name engraved in silver: Elena Caro.

My chest tightened.

“She’d like a word,” he said. “Now.”

I let out a half-laugh, half-snort. “Yeah, well, tell her I’m busy being broke.”

His lips didn’t twitch. “Miss Caro insists. And she doesn’t hear ‘no.’”

My eyes flicked to the street, to the sleek black car parked at the curb. Polished so clean it reflected the whole damn building back at me.

I thought about my peeling wallpaper. The pile of unpaid bills stacked on my counter. The stale crackers in my hand.

Maybe Laura was right. Maybe this was the chance.

And if not? Well, screw it. Even getting kidnapped would be better than this.

The ride was quiet, except for the hum of the engine and my heartbeat pounding like a drumline. I sat stiff in the backseat, sneakers tapping against the spotless carpet, feeling like I’d been dropped into a movie I didn’t audition for.

We pulled up downtown, in front of a glass tower so sleek it made me want to crawl out of my own skin. Doormen in perfect suits. Marble floors that smelled like money. Everything screaming too clean, too expensive, too not-for-me.

I wanted to turn around, but the suit guy kept walking. So I followed.

The elevator shot us to the top floor. Doors opened. And there she was.

Elena.

No scarf. No sunglasses. Just her. My face, but sharper. Polished. Richer. Like someone had taken me, stripped away the poverty and the desperation, and rebuilt me into a weapon.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

“You,” I whispered.

Her lips curled. “Sit.”

I sat. My hands trembled under the table.

For a long minute, she just studied me. Like she was staring into a mirror warped at the edges. Her gaze was heavy, weighing me down.

Finally, she spoke. “You’re even more perfect than I thought.”

My throat tightened. “Perfect for what?”

Her eyes glittered. “An arrangement.”

I laughed, sharp and bitter. “Lady, I’m not for sale.”

“Everyone is,” she said smoothly. “The question is the price.”

A chill slid down my spine.

She snapped her fingers, and the suit man placed an envelope in front of me— sleek and heavy.

“Open it.”

I hesitated, then pulled it open.

Cash. Stacks of it. More than I’d ever seen in one place. My stomach flipped.

“What the hell is this?” I asked, voice thin.

“An introduction,” she said calmly. “A gesture. Take it. Pay your bills. Get groceries. Breathe for a few days. Then come back to me with a clear head.”

I was confused and even more

so—anxious I wasn’t her charity project. Just as I was about to question her unsolicited generosity, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

A text from my sister: School trip money due tomorrow, Rae. Please don’t forget.

My chest ached. Pride was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

“I don’t get it,” I muttered. “Why me?”

Her smile sharpened. “Because you’re me. Or at least, you could be.”

I stared. “What the hell does that mean?”

She leaned back in her chair, unbothered. “You’ll find out. For now, take the money. Enjoy a taste of a life without worry. Then decide how badly you want more.”

The weight of the envelope burned against my hands. Every instinct screamed trap. But the truth? For the first time in months, the ground didn’t feel like it was collapsing under me.

The next 48 hours were unreal.

I filled my fridge until it was full for once. Paid for Mom’s medicine without begging for extensions. Sent my sister the school trip money and heard her squeal like Christmas had come early.

They seemed so relieved, happy, proud—it should’ve filled me with joy. But instead, it left a pit in my stomach.

Because I knew who I owed.

Elena.

And she knew it too.

Two days later, I was back in that glass tower. The envelope was empty, but the memory of breathing easy clung to me like perfume.

Elena didn’t waste time.

“I need you to take my place,” she said.

I blinked. “Your place?”

She nodded, calm as ever. “My family has arranged a meeting. With a man. Wealthy, powerful, important. They want me to marry him. I don’t want to. But appearances matter. So, you will go in my place.”

I laughed, but it cracked at the edges. “You’re insane.”

Her eyes never left mine. “I’ll pay you more than you’ve ever dreamed of.”

This sounded absolutely absurd, unreal. It sounded intriguing but I had to protest. I stood, shaking my head. “This is crazy. You can’t just swap yourself out with some random girl.”

Her voice softened, but it sliced clean. “You already accepted my money, Rae. That makes you mine.”

The words rooted me to the floor.

She leaned in, her gaze sharp enough to cut. “I’m not asking for forever. Just one night. One meeting. Smile, nod, play the part, and walk away rich. Think of your mother. Your sister. Their smiles when you could afford their groceries.”

The room tilted.

I wanted to say no. God, I wanted to— I was skeptical. But her words dug deep, wrapping around the future images I couldn’t shake—my mom’s relief, my sister’s joy.

Elena smiled like she already knew.

That night, lying in bed with the envelope tucked in my drawer, I realized what I had gotten into. I’m going to be sent into the wild tomorrow, an official encounter with a man I knew nothing about.

She’d already won.