Chapter one

Ashley’s POV

Knock! Knock!! Knock!!!

My daughter, Aurora, and I gasp in surprise as someone raps out a series of loud and aggressive knocks on our front door while we're watching television.

“Mom! It’s him! It’s that bad man!” Aurora whispers, immediately drawing closer and clinging tightly to me. 

Her eyes widen and become as round as saucers, and fear is clearly evident in them. For a second, I feel like the world’s worst mother.

Tears fill my eyes and blur my vision, but I blink them back determinedly and kiss Aurora's warm forehead. I should be able to protect my young and innocent child from stuff like this, but unfortunately, I can’t.

“Hey bitch! I know you're in there, and you can hear me! Open up this fucking door before I break it down!” My landlord yells from outside.

He’s not one to make idle threats, and I know that if I delay for even one second more, he’s going to break down the door as threatened, so I quickly reassure my daughter and head to the door to open it reluctantly.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I say humbly.

He ignores my greeting and instead pokes his head into the apartment behind me, his eyes dulling and his excitement fading when he sees that my daughter is around.

His excitement doesn’t fade enough for him not to leer at me and stare pointedly at my chest area, though.

I remember that I’m not wearing a bra underneath my t-shirt, and, flushing, I fold my arms across my chest to hide my breasts as much as I can from his repulsive leer.

“I thought she would be in school by now.” He mutters, referring to Aurora, who quickly looks away from us and fixes her gaze on the TV, her lower lip trembling.

“She’s down with the flu, so she didn’t go to school today.”

“Whatever, where’s my fucking money?”

“Please, I promise to pay you the money in a few days. Yesterday, you agreed to give me a few days to get it.” I plead with and remind him, already knowing where this is going.

“Yeah, I did, but then, I changed my mind. Why should I give you a few extra days? You had the whole month to get my money ready. I need my fucking money and I need it now.”

“Please, I’m begging you …”

“There's no need to beg me. You already know what to do. Just come over to my apartment. Occupy the kid with some cartoon or shit, and let’s have some good time … you and me … I won't even collect the whole month’s rent from you if you agree.” He tells me, licking his cracked, thin lips, while his eyes run over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl.

He doesn’t even bother to lower his voice as he gives his vile suggestion, because he clearly doesn’t care whether my daughter understands what he’s saying or not.

The mere thought of what he’s suggesting, along with the sour smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol that cling stubbornly to him, and are making my eyes water, is enough to make me retch.

He’s not exactly easy on the eyes, considering the fact that he’s a bald, middle-aged man with the biggest belly I’ve ever seen on a man, but even if he were a handsome man, there’s no way on earth I’m going to trade sex for rent.

“I’m very sorry, sir, but I can’t do that. I hope you’ll understand. I’m expecting a customer to pay me some money tomorrow or the day after. I promise you that you’ll get your money in two days’ time at the latest. I’ll even pay for next month’s rent in advance as well.” I assure him, but his eyes narrow as he glares at me.

“Fine! It’s your loss. Make sure you pay the money by then; otherwise, I won't listen to any pleas. I’ll throw you and your fucking belongings out onto the fucking street.” He says harshly, before turning away and leaving, grunting and breathing with exertion every step of the way.

I close the door and sag against it in relief, blinking away tears. I feel so disrespected, but there’s nothing I can do, and that horrid man knows it.

“I don’t like that wicked man. Don’t cry, mummy.” My four-year-old daughter’s voice drags me out of my reverie, and I pull myself together for her sake and go join her again on our worn sofa.

She looks close to tears herself, which makes me all the more sad. For a four-year-old child, she acts way more mature than her age, and is far intelligent beyond her years.

I know for certain that she knows exactly what the landlord wants from me, and the fact that I can't shield her from knowing about such things at her tender age makes me feel like the world’s biggest failure.

“I’m not crying, honey. Come on, let’s see what’s good on TV.” I tell her, my mood lightening a little when she perks up, grabs the remote, and starts scrolling through the channels.

I can’t relax, though, or even think straight. No, not with what just happened. So, even though I'm dead tired from working overnight, I have no choice but to continue working.

Maybe if I can finish up with this batch of clothes tonight, I may be lucky enough to be able to sell some of them tomorrow at the evening market and raise some money for my rent.

Even if the money isn’t complete, maybe I would find someone to borrow me the rest. There’s no telling if the customers who are owing me would pay up as they promised they would, so I don’t want to risk it.

My eyes are heavy with sleep, and my limbs are sore and tired, but I kiss my daughter on the cheek, and then I head over to my sewing machine to continue making more clothes.

There’s an advert from one fashion company currently playing on the TV, and Aurora is watching it with rapt attention. Despite how tired I am, I can't help but smile.

Like mother, like daughter. She has already started showing signs of being interested in fashion, just like I am, and I can't wait to show her everything I know once she’s older and ready.

I want to check out what the advert is about, but at that point, my machine, which seems to be on its last legs, snags, and I have to pay attention to and fix it so I can continue sewing.

By the time I raise my head again, the advert is over, but I don’t really give it any thought. It isn’t until two weeks later, when my phone rings out of the blue, that I receive the shock of my life, and remember this moment.