Chapter 2

"It's a joy to be hidden, but a disaster not to be found."

— D.W. Winnicott

CAMELLIA

I mixed the bowl of pancake batter absent-mindedly, my eyes on Lilah as she fiddled with the Rubik’s cube. Her hair lay in messy waves; her tongue darted out as she turned the cube in different directions.

Are they like the mafia?

Why was he looking at me like that?

Who has arms with such defined muscles?

My phone buzzed from my pocket, bringing me out of my thoughts. I had a week left before rent was due and had already paid for Lilah’s special needs school plus private tutoring. I didn’t work on Saturdays, so who was calling? I rinsed my hands at the sink, drying them on my jeans before reaching for the phone.

My brows furrowed as Bobby’s name flashed across the screen. I debated answering it, he had no business calling me on a Saturday morning.

“Hello,” I answered, moving to where Lilah was now colouring in the picture of a swan, the Rubik’s cube,with all colours now perfectly aligned—discarded at her feet.

“Good job,” I signed, earning me a toothy grin from her, showing her missing front teeth.

Great. I forgot the damn tooth fairy gig again. This is what I get for mixing delusions of whimsy with adult burnout.

“Camellia, Camellia, you didn’t tell me you had a little special gig after last night,” he said from the other end.

“I don’t do special gigs and you know that, Bobby.”

While I was grateful for the almost immediate hire months ago, I was sick of him trying to suggest that I have sex with some of the men at the bar alongside stripping.

“Well, Miss Holier-than-Thou, somebody dropped off some cash for you, and it’s still quite a lot after I took my usual percentage.” He paused, no doubt taking a drag from a cigar before he continued. “Since you’re one of my favourite—”

More like your favourite failed body count addition.

“I’ll deposit it into your account myself, and you can just enjoy your Saturday without stopping by,” he finished.

I blinked. “How much?”

He paused like he was calculating, which was unnecessary, considering I knew he had a calculator always ready to go and zero shame.

“About $680. After my cut.”

Most Friday and Sunday nights, I walked away with maybe a couple hundred as extra if someone got dumped and drunk enough. Half the time, the cash came with strings, hotel room keys or creepy promises of something more. I never took the bait. Never needed to.

And now someone had just left that much cash in one night?

I didn’t bother asking who it came from before hanging up. I knew I was about to decline another sexual offer from a man I didn’t know next Friday.

Still stunned, I crouched down where Lilah was sitting on the floor, messing with her colouring book. I ran my hand through her hair—soft, but uneven. Some strands stretched longer than others, curling around her ears.

“You need a haircut, Li,” I murmured.

She looked up at me, eyes round, and signed "haircut."

I nodded. “Yes.”

Her face lit up, dimples pressing into her cheeks like little commas. I smiled, but it faded fast.

The last time her hair got this long was when she was too sick to get out of bed. I still remembered how gruesome it was. I’d googled it obsessively, refreshing symptoms and treatment costs like a maniac. She was only six. The bills almost killed me before the fever could.

That’s when I started dancing. Fridays and Sundays only. Just enough to cover medication and her surgery. It wasn’t glamorous, it was desperate, and it kept her alive. She only needed drugs for now, but they were still expensive. I still kept my job at a dance studio that my neighbour, Mrs. Greyworth’s daughter, owned on weekdays, using the pay for other things.

“Why don’t we go to the park?” I said softly. “Then we can visit Mom after.”

Her gaze stayed locked on my mouth, eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to keep up with my lips. She was fast, she always was—but I was speaking too quickly.

“Park and Mom?” she asked. The words came out like a whisper. Her voice worked fine, but she always preferred signing.

“Yep,” I said. I ruffled her hair again. “Let me make breakfast. Then we’re out.”

As I stood, I glanced back at her. My entire family was gone. My mom died two years ago,complications from a stroke, and we were better off without our deadbeat father anyway. No savings, no will, no funeral photos. Just raw, unfiltered grief and a little girl who clung to me like I was the only island in her storm.

I’d protect her with everything in me. I’d strip, I’d scrub floors, I’d sell the damn walls if I had to. Because Lilah was the one good thing I had left in this world, and I wasn’t about to lose her too.

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The park was bustling with parents, children, balloons, and too many dogs chasing after too few tennis balls, which was a given, seeing as it was a Saturday. I was perched on one of the wooden benches under a faded red umbrella, positioned perfectly to watch Lilah. She was all giggles and gummy smiles, clapping as the ride went round again for another spin. Her joy was so contagious it made my cheeks ache from smiling.

A kid sprinted past me with a giant swirl of rainbow ice cream. I should get Lilah a cone as well.

My eyes scanned the park, spotting a single ice cream stand, a ridiculous distance from the ride.

I stood from the bench, stealing one last glance at Lilah before heading over to the stand. There was a small queue at the ice cream stand, but it moved quickly, which was good, because every second away from Lilah made my stomach twist a little tighter. Just as I stepped forward, a little girl darted across my path, her balloon nearly slapping me in the face. I jerked back in surprise and collided into a solid chest, hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs.

Strong hands grabbed me from behind, steadying me before I could lose complete balance.

“Easy now, sweetheart.”

The words were whispered directly into my ear, his breath fanning against my neck, and I jumped back in shock at how my body reacted to the simple touch, heat blooming in places it had no business blooming in.

“I’m sorry about that,” I mumbled, flustered and scrambling to shake off the weirdness crawling under my skin, but he didn’t let go immediately.

“If this is your idea of crashing into my life, keep doing it. I might start looking forward to the bruises.”

My breath caught in my throat as I turned to face him. It was hard not to recognise him. He was no longer in office wear but in plain jeans and a T-shirt, and somehow he still managed to stand out. He was even better looking in the daylight than at night, his hazel eyes my current favourite feature on his face.

“Did you get my gift?” he arched a brow at me.

My cheeks burned at the realization that it was him who probably sent the money to me. I was surprised he even recognised me without the heavily caked face and synthetic wig.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, taking the cone from the ice cream man and turning to leave, trying to find Lilah—but he stepped in front of me again.

“I saw a necklace and a dress and thought it might suit you. You can wear it the next time we meet.”

He sent a necklace and a dress too? Fucking Bobby didn’t tell me that.

I bit back a scoff, choosing to move around him instead. The way some of the customers went above and beyond just to sleep with the strippers was impressive. Most didn’t even treat their wives with this much generosity. If I played my cards right, I’d be swimming in satin and gold by Christmas.

I ignored him and walked away, scanning the crowd for Lilah. The ride where I left her was already spinning again with a new set of kids on it. Panic seized my veins.

Where was she?

My free hand clutched my chest, trying to ease the sudden painful throb as I spun around frantically before my eyes settled on her, relief taking over my panicked state immediately.

She was off to the side of the ride, seated on a bench between two men. One of them was crouched to her level, his hands moving fluidly as he signed something to her, and she giggled.

The other stood behind them in a casual but alert, guard-like stance, arms folded across his chest.

They were both dressed in the same casual style as the tattooed man, jeans and plain tees. Even their leisurewear appeared fancy. They were handsome, sure, but not like the first guy. He had a recklessness to his beauty, the kind you couldn’t plan. It just existed.

And Lilah clearly had learned nothing from all our “don’t talk to strangers” rehearsals.

I rushed over, grabbing her hand and pushing her behind me. The men straightened immediately, moving in sync like it was choreographed, their heads slightly bowed in some eerie show of respect.

Uhmmmm......Okay. Might as well start chanting and levitating.

“I don’t know what you people are up to after last night, but please don’t drag her into it. And you can tell Mr. Tattooed Moneybag, or whatever, that he can fuck right off with his gifts.”

I was angry, furious, even-but mostly just relieved Lilah was safe. Still, they had no right to take her anywhere. I tossed the ice cream cone they gave her onto the pavement, swapping it for the one I’d bought myself. Lilah glanced up at me, brows scrunched in silent worry.

I fumed all the way back to our apartment, muttering under my breath like a lunatic. “Who does he think he is? Some rich bastard thinks he can just—”

I froze at the door at the sight of a red box. Lilah and I made eye contact, both staring at the box.

It had a bright green sticky note taped to the top.

To the original owner.

I pushed Lilah gently behind me, slowly opened the box, and blinked. A dress, jewelry, and an envelope that had a smear of blood on it.

Inside was more money and a crumpled note with an address scribbled messily. My phone buzzed.

I reached for it with shaky hands, thumb swiping at the screen. It was Bobby, but he left a text instead.

“Sending your little fuck thing after me? You’re fired.”