CHAPTER 8 - DESPERATELY IN NEED OF MONEY

“I’ll take the money.”

The words left my mouth before my courage could catch up to them.

Mark smiled.

Not a warm smile. Not relief. It was slow, sharp, almost satisfied—like a predator watching its trap finally close.

“Good,” he said. “I was beginning to think you didn’t have sense.”

My stomach twisted.

“Follow me to the room.”

My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. It’s nothing, I told myself. Nothing is going to happen. I’ll just go up. I’ll sit. I’ll collect the money. That’s it.

That was all.

I followed him.

The hallway felt longer than it should have. The carpet muffled our footsteps, but every step echoed inside my chest. He opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

I sat on the edge of the bed, stiff, alert, my bag clutched to my side.

“Hold on,” he said casually. “I’m pressed.”

Before I could respond, he leaned in.

His lips brushed mine.

The smell hit me immediately—strong alcohol, sour and heavy. My body stiffened, every instinct screaming. He pulled back suddenly.

“I’m coming.”he said again.

He turned and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Silence.

When he turned and walked toward the bathroom, the door swung open for a split second.

Just a second.

But in that second, I saw something on the floor.

Something that didn’t belong there.

It looked like… flesh.

A shape. Heavy. Still. Wrong.

The door shut.

My heart skipped so hard it hurt.

No.

No, that couldn’t be right.

I stood frozen, my mind scrambling to explain it away. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me…probably because of the strangling man I saw earlier today.

Maybe it was just a towel or a hotel cleaning bucket.

Something piled carelessly on the floor.

People don’t just leave bodies lying around.

A body?

The word slammed into me and I immediately pushed it back. I shook my head slightly, like that could reset my vision.

I hadn’t seen it clearly. It was too fast. Too sudden. My brain was tired, stretched thin from fear, exhaustion, and stress. Of course I would imagine things. Of course I would hallucinate.

That had to be it.

Because if what I saw was real…

If that shape was what my mind was whispering it was…

Then I was sitting in a room with a man who didn’t just want money.

And the thought made my skin crawl.

My breath came out in short, shaky pulls. My hands were trembling. What am I doing here? I thought. What exactly does he want?

Then I noticed it.

A drawer.

Half open.

I don’t know why I stood up. I don’t know why I walked closer. Maybe curiosity. Maybe fear. Maybe instinct trying to save me.

I pulled it open.

And my heart stopped.

A knife lay inside—long, sharp, clean.

Beside it was a zip-lock bag.

Inside the bag was something dark. Wet. Red.

It looked like a human heart.

My vision blurred. My ears rang. The room tilted.

Oh my God.

I didn’t think. I didn’t breathe. I grabbed my bag, my phone—everything—and bolted.

I ran out of the room. Out of the hallway. Out of the hotel.

I ran.

I didn’t look back.

My legs burned, my lungs screamed, but I kept running..down the road, past people, past lights, past safety I didn’t feel yet.

I flagged down the first local cab I saw and jumped in.

“Drive,” I gasped. “Please. Just drive.”

As the car pulled away, my heart was still hammering violently against my ribs.

My hands were shaking.

My whole body was shaking.

What the hell did I just see?

And worse…

What would have happened if I hadn’t opened that drawer?

I got back to my room with my heart still pounding so hard it felt like it might burst through my chest.

I shut the door. Locked it. Then locked it again.

Only then did my legs finally give up.

I crawled onto the bed, dragged the duvet over myself, and squeezed my eyes shut like a child hiding from a nightmare. My body was shaking. Not violently. Just enough to remind me that I was still running on fear.

I escaped death twice today.

The thought wouldn’t leave me alone.

Twice.

Once in that lonely street, hiding behind broken wood, holding my breath while a murderer searched the dark. And again in that hotel room, smiling at a man who might have been deciding whether I was worth keeping alive.

What was I doing with my life?

Tears burned my eyes.

Maybe I should just go back to my grandfather.

Beg if I had to.

I used to think money was easy. Endless. Something that simply existed for me because of who I was. I had never worked for it. Never feared for it. Never thought about its weight.

And now here I was… risking my life for a few bundles of cash.

Well… not few.

I swallowed.

I was so tired. Too tired to cry. Too tired to eat. My stomach growled weakly, but I ignored it.

Every sound made me flinch.

A footstep outside.

A door clicking shut.

The hum of electricity in the wall.

I lay there, wide awake in the dark..

Sleep eventually pulled me under—not gently, but like a hand pressing me down.

And even then, my heart never fully slowed.

The next day at the bar, my hands still smelled like soap and alcohol no matter how hard I scrubbed.

I was wiping the counter when I saw them step out of the expensive hotel across the street.

The glass doors slid open smoothly, and sunlight reflected off a black Porsche Taycan waiting by the curb.

My breath caught.

The girl walked out first.

She was beautiful in a way that felt effortless.

Her dress fit her perfectly, her hair fell just right, her skin glowed like money had never been a problem for her. She moved with confidence, like the world was used to making space for her.

Beside her was an old man. Grey hair. Expensive suit. The kind of man people respected without asking why.

For a second, my heart twisted.

I thought they were father and daughter.

Me and my grandfather flashed through my mind. How we used to step out of places like that. How cars waited. How doors opened.

Before I ruined everything.

Then they reached the car.

And he kissed her.

Not a quick peck. Not something innocent.

A slow kiss.

Reality hit hard.

The girl laughed, whispered something, then excused herself and walked away from the man, heading toward the side of the building.

I didn’t think.

I followed her.

I still had my apron tied around my waist. My gloves were still on. I felt ridiculous, but I didn’t care. I needed answers. I needed to understand how girls like her lived like this.

She stopped to check her phone.

I cleared my throat.

She turned and looked me up and down. Slowly. Carefully. Like she was measuring how out of place I was.

The apron…The gloves…The tired face.

I felt exposed.

“You’re beautiful,” I said, forcing the words out. “I mean… really beautiful.”

She didn’t smile.

Her eyes were already drifting back to her phone.

“I’m envious of you,” I continued, my voice softer now. “The way you look. The life you have. How do you—how do you make your money?”

She laughed.

Not kindly…loudly.

Just enough to sting.

Then she looked at me like I was invisible.

She didn’t answer….didn’t explain.didn't even dismiss me properly.

She turned away and continued minding her business, typing on her phone like I had never spoken.

Like I didn’t exist.

Heat rushed to my face. Shame crawled up my neck. I stood there for a second too long before walking back to the bar, my steps heavy.

But something hardened inside me.

I watched other girls pass by.

Expensive dresses. Calm smiles. Luxury cars. Confidence stitched into their posture.

And I made a quiet promise to myself.

If one girl wouldn’t tell me, I would ask another.

And another… and another.

Because I was done being ignorant.

I would find out how they made it.

No matter what it cost me.

. … . … … . .

That evening, the bar finally went quiet.

Only two customers sat at opposite ends, nursing their drinks like they had nowhere else to be. The music was low. The lights felt dimmer.

My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to rest.

I stood by the window, wiping the same spot on the counter over and over, watching the street like it owed me something.

That was when I saw them.

Three cars rolled in smoothly and parked almost in perfect alignment. Tinted windows. Black. Shiny. The kind of cars you didn’t need to recognize to know they were expensive.

The engines purred softly, confidently, like money.

My breath slowed.

The doors opened.

Three girls stepped out.

They were dressed alike. Same style. Same confidence. Same sharp elegance. For a second, I thought they were triplets, but their faces told a different story. Not sisters. Friends. Close ones.

They laughed as they walked, their heels clicking in perfect rhythm, jewelry catching the streetlight. Diamonds. Real ones. Their dresses alone probably cost more than my monthly survival budget.

They crossed the street and entered the boutique opposite the bar.

That boutique.

The one I used to walk into without looking at prices.

My hands tightened around the cloth.

Time passed. I don’t know how long. Maybe thirty minutes. Maybe less. I was too focused to count.

Then they came out.

Each of them carried shopping bags. Heavy ones. Designer bags. The kind that announce themselves without saying a word.

They looked even richer now.

My heart started pounding.

I wasn’t missing this chance.