The Cruel CEO's Mistress

A young woman ran hastily down the back corridor of a nightclub, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She was trying to reach her workplace as quickly as possible—a restroom reserved for the club’s patrons, located at the farthest end of the building.

Nadine glanced repeatedly at the watch on her wrist. The numbers showed 7:55 p.m.

“Oh God… why is this club so huge?” she muttered in panic. It was her first day at work, and she was already running late—all because of Clara, her friend, who had taken too long getting ready. Nadine couldn’t afford to be scolded before she even had a chance to prove herself.

Her freshly bathed body was now slick with sweat again. The black uniform she wore looked far too large for her petite frame. The shirt hung nearly to her knees, its sleeves covering her elbows. A black cap shaded part of her face, and her long hair was neatly twisted and tucked underneath it.

The uniform was actually designed for men—size XL—since no woman had ever worked as a restroom attendant there before.

Nadine sighed in relief when she arrived just in time. She paused briefly to steady her breathing, then set her bag on a small table by the restroom entrance. There was only one table and one chair—her tiny workspace. Without wasting a second, Nadine began cleaning the men’s restroom.

The moment she opened the door, her stomach churned. The stench that wafted out was foul and nauseating. Covering her nose with the hem of her shirt, she got to work. She splashed water across the floor and walls, sprayed disinfectant, and scrubbed the toilet until it gleamed. Gradually, the rancid odor was replaced by the fresh scent of porcelain cleaner and air freshener.

Afterward, she wiped down the mirror and the sink until everything looked spotless. The women’s restroom was much cleaner, so she finished there more quickly. An hour later, Nadine sat in her chair in front of the restroom door, fighting the heavy pull of drowsiness.

Her eyes were about to close when a woman stumbled toward the restroom. From her unsteady steps and glassy eyes, Nadine could tell she was drunk. Her dress was striking—a tight, glittering gown that accentuated every curve.

Moments later, a man followed behind her.

Nadine froze. She watched, stunned, as the pair suddenly embraced and began kissing passionately right in front of her. Her breath caught. Heat rushed to her cheeks; her hands trembled. She quickly lowered her gaze, but the sound of their kisses and soft moans filled her ears, making her heart pound uncontrollably.

She kept her head down, trying to block out the sounds, until silence finally returned. When she dared to lift her eyes again, what she saw made her face drain of color. She immediately looked away, her fingers clenching tightly in her lap.

Without shame, the drunken couple made love right there in the brightly lit corridor.

Footsteps approached. The two entered the restroom—together. Nadine didn’t say a word. She knew they were both under the influence of alcohol, and anything she said would only make things worse.

From behind the door that hadn’t fully closed, muffled noises and shuffling echoed. Nadine sat awkwardly, waiting until they finally emerged. When they were gone, she went inside again to clean up. She flushed the toilet, sprayed disinfectant, and sprinkled air freshener on the floor, making sure no trace of them remained.

When everything was spotless once more, she sat back down. The night felt unbearably long. She had to stay alert, even as exhaustion dragged at her eyelids.

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The clock on her wrist showed 3 a.m.—just one more hour until her shift ended. Nadine breathed out in relief, glancing around the quiet space. But the calm didn’t last.

A tall man with a cold expression stepped into the hallway, dragging another man by the collar—a thin, frightened figure.

“Please, Mr. Justine! Forgive me! I swear I won’t do it again!” the man begged desperately.

Justine’s eyes were sharp as steel. “Do you know what I do to traitors?”

Nadine froze in her seat. She could see the blood at the corner of the thinner man’s mouth. Terror crawled through her veins. She didn’t dare lift her head as the two men entered the restroom.

Moments later came the sound of a heavy blow—followed by a heart-wrenching scream. Nadine clamped her hands over her ears, but the noises still tore through her—the pleading voice, the crack of bone, the dull thud of a boot striking flesh.

“Please, sir… have mercy…” the voice grew weaker with every word.

“Stop pretending. You know the price of betrayal,” Justine’s voice was calm and merciless. He kicked the man’s face again, splitting the skin near his temple. Blood splattered across the floor.

But Justine didn’t stop. He relished every strike, every groan. He could have ended it with a single bullet, yet torment seemed far more satisfying.

The man was barely conscious now, yet in his agony there was a faint sense of peace. He knew his family was safe. He had made sure his wife and child were taken away before tonight. If his life was the cost of their safety, so be it. At least Justine would never reach them.

“Death would be too kind for you,” Justine hissed. “I’ll make sure you go blind for the rest of your life.”

The man—Tio—smiled faintly through the blood. “Do it, Mr. Justine. I’m not afraid anymore…”

His hoarse laugh was cut short by a brutal kick to the chest. The sound of coughing and blood hitting the floor filled the room.

Nadine bowed her head, her knees trembling violently. She held her breath as two men in black suits entered the restroom and dragged the limp body away. From the corner of her eye, she saw them throw it into a black car parked outside the door.

Moments later, Justine emerged, his face as cold as ever. He washed his hands at the sink, then turned toward Nadine.

“You saw everything?” he asked flatly.

Nadine trembled. “I—I won’t tell anyone, sir,” she stammered.

Justine frowned, scanning her from head to toe. Without warning, he grabbed her collar and lifted her off her chair with ease.

“You came here undercover, didn’t you? Spying on me?” His voice was sharp, suspicious.

“N-no, sir… I work here! I’m not a spy!” Nadine cried, her voice shaking. Her face turned pale, her eyes glistening with fear. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him—the handsome yet terrifying man towering before her.

Justine dropped her to the floor. Her black cap fell off, releasing her long hair. The corner of his lips lifted slightly.

“So, the restroom attendant turns out to be a woman…” he murmured, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking it harshly.

“Please, sir… let me go. I’m just a worker,” she pleaded, her voice trembling between pain and tears.

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