Chapter 2

The ancient elevator that carried Abigail up to her floor always made her feel as though she'd stepped into the set of a horror movie.

The screech of rusted metal. The dim yellow hallway lights that flickered without warning. Either one was enough to send chills down her spine.

But the truth was...

Real life was far more terrifying than any horror film.

No ghost could make her heart pound the way debt collectors did. Their relentless threats were far more frightening than ominous background music before a monster appeared on screen.

Abigail was exhausted.

Every muscle in her body ached, and her empty stomach twisted painfully with hunger. The moment she pushed open the door to her apartment, the pungent smell of alcohol hit her.

Her gaze landed on Veronica, sprawled across the worn-out sofa with a liquor bottle clutched tightly against her chest.

How much longer are you going to live like this, Mom?

Helplessness settled heavily in Abigail's heart.

"Just imagine everything you could do with the compensation I'd give you."

Lily's words from yesterday echoed in her mind again.

Abigail quickly shook her head, as if she could chase the voice away. She slipped off her canvas bag and quietly walked toward the apartment's only bedroom.

Curled up on the thin mattress, Amora was still fast asleep, hugging her ragged little fox plush against her chest. The peaceful sight instantly warmed Abigail's heart, melting away a little of her exhaustion.

She wanted to give her daughter the best life possible. If she couldn't give Amora luxury... Then at the very least, she wanted to give her peace.

"Your daughter will have a better future."

"If you want, I'll even open an education fund in her name and pay for her schooling all the way through college."

Damn it. Why wouldn't those promises stop haunting her?

Abigail knelt beside the bed and gently brushed a few strands of hair away from Amora's face.

"Sweetheart..."  She smiled softly. "It's time to wake up. Don't you have school today?"

Amora stirred beneath the blanket before slowly opening her sleepy eyes. She looked at her mother with a drowsy pout.

"Come on. Go wash up, okay?" Abigail stroked her cheek. "I'll make you a sandwich for breakfast."

She hesitated for a moment before forcing herself to smile.

"...Is it okay if I make an extra one for your lunch, too?"

Amora nodded obediently without a single complaint.

She always did.

Her little girl never demanded anything. Never asked for expensive toys.

Never threw tantrums because she couldn't have what other children did.

And somehow...That quiet obedience hurt Abigail more than anything else.

There had once been a time when Abigail herself had been spoiled beyond measure.

She had grown up surrounded by wealth, never denied anything she wanted. Yet her own daughter had inherited none of that life.

No. This wasn't what Abigail wanted for Amora.

She didn't want her little girl to be so understanding. She didn't want her to grow up too quickly... Or carry burdens no child should ever have to bear.

There were so many things Abigail wanted to give her.

But right now...

She couldn't give her any of them.

Amora understood too much. She gave too much. While Abigail...

All she seemed to do was receive, fail, and disappoint.

"Be careful, sweetheart." Abigail smiled as she watched Amora climb onto the school bus. "And have fun at school."

She waved until the bus disappeared around the corner. Only then did she glance at her watch.

She still had a little time to rest before heading out to look for another job.

After covering her coworker's overnight shift at the twenty-four-hour convenience store, every ounce of energy had been drained from her body.

She returned to the apartment and collapsed onto the thin mattress Amora had been sleeping on just moments before. Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind. Instead...

Only one sentence echoed over and over again.

One hundred million dollars.

"Just once, Abby. I only need one child, and I swear you won't lose anything."

Abigail let out a frustrated groan, clamping her hands over her ears as Lily's voice echoed relentlessly inside her head.

"No." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I'll never do it. I'll never sell my womb."

She clung to the last shred of her principles until exhaustion finally dragged her into darkness.

BANG!

A deafening crash from the front of the apartment jolted her awake. She shot upright so quickly that her vision blurred.

What's happening?

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she hurried toward the living room.

"Get out of here!" Veronica shrieked hysterically. "You filthy bastards have no right to set foot in my house!"

Still half-drunk, she stood swaying unsteadily as she glared at the three burly men waiting calmly in the doorway.

"Finally awake, Little Princess?"

Abigail turned sharply. Derek—the leader of the debt collectors—was standing casually in her tiny kitchen.

To her disbelief, he was leisurely chewing the last bite of the sandwich she'd made for her mother.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" Her voice came out rough from sleep.

Derek strolled toward her. The apartment was so cramped that only a few strides separated the kitchen from the bedroom. Within seconds, he was standing directly in front of her.

"You're still beautiful when you first wake up." His voice dropped to a whisper. He leaned down, inhaling near her neck.

"And you always smell so good." The words sounded like a compliment, but the way he said them made her skin crawl.

"I asked you what you're doing in my apartment!"

"What do you think, sweetheart?" Derek reached out, intending to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

Abigail slapped his hand away so hard it flew to the side.

"We're here to collect a debt." His smile never faltered. "You promised you'd pay yesterday's interest, remember?"

Abigail closed her eyes for a brief second. It wasn't that she'd forgotten. The problem was...

Her gaze drifted toward Veronica, who was barely able to stay on her feet in the corner of the room.

The remainder of Abigail's final paycheck—what little she'd had left after losing her job yesterday—had been stolen by her mother.

Every last dollar had gone toward gambling and another bottle of liquor. But Derek didn't care about excuses.

"I thought you were a woman who kept her word, Abby." He chuckled coldly. "Turns out you're just like everyone else. Sweet as honey when you need a loan, then full of excuses when it's time to pay."

"I never borrowed money from you." Abigail pointed directly at Veronica. "She did."

Derek shrugged.

"What's the difference?" A cruel smile tugged at his lips. "Children pay for their parents' sins, don't they?"

Abigail's brows knitted tightly together.

Was that supposed to be a jab at me?

Was he saying that because of my own mistakes... Amora is the one paying the price now?

"So..." Derek stepped closer again. "Where's my money?"

Before Abigail could react, his hand slid toward the pocket of her pants under the pretense of searching for cash.

That was the final straw.

Rage exploded inside her.

With every ounce of strength she had, Abigail shoved him square in the chest. Derek staggered backward, his hip slamming hard against the sharp edge of the kitchen counter.

"I don't have the money!" Abigail shouted, her eyes glistening as she struggled to hold back her tears. "I could've paid the interest if you hadn't caused a scene at my workplace! Now I don't have a single dollar because you got me fired!"

Derek's eyes widened in mock surprise.

"And why are you blaming us?" he asked with a lazy shrug. "You were just doing your job, and we were doing ours. If you got fired, maybe it's because you weren't very good at your job to begin with."

His insult landed without the slightest trace of remorse.

Derek casually righted the plastic chair Veronica had thrown earlier and sat down, folding his arms across his chest as though he owned the place.

"Abby, sweetheart..." he said with an amused smile. "Don't look at me like that. I haven't done anything wrong."

His gaze shifted toward Veronica.

"Hey, ma'am. Aren't you going to offer your guests a cup of coffee? Where are your manners?" He chuckled. "Though I wouldn't say no to a glass from your liquor stash, either."

"There's nothing to discuss, Derek!" Abigail cut him off. "I'll pay back the debt as soon as I can!"

"As soon as you can?" Derek echoed mockingly. His three men behind him burst into laughter. "You just lost your job, sweetheart. That means you don't have a single source of income."

"That's my problem!" Abigail shot back. "I'll find another job. So please... just get out of my apartment!"

The faint smile on Derek's face slowly disappeared. The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by something icy enough to freeze the room.

"Don't mistake my kindness for weakness, Little Princess."

Without warning, he lunged to his feet.  His hand shot out, gripping Abigail's jaw with crushing force.

Pain shot through her face as his fingers dug into her skin. His knuckles turned white from the pressure.

"Oh..." Derek loosened his grip, his tone almost apologetic. "My mistake." His thumb slowly brushed across her tense cheek.

"I shouldn't damage a face this beautiful." His lips curled into a chilling smile. "It might be your most valuable asset."

He leaned down until his mouth was inches from her ear.

"Abby..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Why don't you take the easy way out?"

"Come work for me. "Become one of my girls, and I guarantee every penny of your debt will disappear before you know it."

Abigail knew exactly what he meant. There was nothing subtle about his offer. Derek wanted her to sell herself through the prostitution ring he controlled.

"I'd put you in the S-tier," he continued casually, as though discussing a business investment instead of a human life. "A face like yours is rare."

He looked her up and down without bothering to hide his desire.

"Just a few weeks." He smirked. "Maybe only a few days if you're good at pleasing your clients. Your debt will be gone, and you'll be living a far better life than you ever could in this dump."

"I'd rather die." The words came through clenched teeth, dripping with disgust.

Derek gave a slow, thoughtful nod. The smile had vanished completely now.

Only a frightening, emotionless expression remained.

"That's a brave answer," he said coldly. "But remember this, Abby..." He took another step closer. "Pride has never paid off a debt."

His eyes narrowed.

"And it certainly won't feed your little girl." A sinister smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "What was her name again?"

Rage exploded inside Abigail.

"Don't you dare say my daughter's name!" Her voice rang through the apartment like a warning. Every protective instinct she possessed surged to the surface the moment he brought Amora into the conversation.

Before Derek could respond, a frantic pounding erupted at the apartment door.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The next second, the elderly man from the neighboring unit stumbled inside. He was breathing hard, his face drained of all color as he clutched at his chest.

"Oh, Abby... thank God you're here."

"Uncle Julian?" Abigail rushed toward him. "What's wrong?"

The old man struggled to catch his breath.

"Amora..." His voice trembled with panic. "Your daughter..."

He swallowed hard.

"She's been in an accident."