Lahat ng Kabanata ng His Mistress.: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Stripping? It's the most shameful and degrading job imaginable. At least, that's what I used to think. But when it comes to saving a life—especially someone you love—you'll do things you never thought possible. The path I chose was ruthless, lined with thorns, but isn't every rose guarded by them? Each wound, each struggle, only prepared me for what lay ahead, a life of fame, temptation, and a love I was never meant to have. Angel’s POV The shrill buzzing of my alarm filled the room, snapping me out of my restless thoughts. My hand shot out, silencing it before I groaned and sat up, rubbing my temples. Another night. Another performance. Another round of strangers throwing cash at me like I was nothing more than a fantasy come to life. I sighed, pushing the thoughts away as I swung my legs off the bed. Dwelling on it wouldn’t change the reality of my situation. I made my way to my closet, pulling out a pair of tight leather pants and a matching bra top.

Angel’s Point Of View The next day, I received my cheque from Red and immediately changed out of my shorts into a more appropriate outfit before heading to see Mom’s doctor. “Doctor Fred, can we proceed with the surgery now?” I asked, my heart filled with hope. He sighed, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his fingers together. “I know you’re trying your best, dear, but we can’t proceed with the surgery until you’ve paid at least 60% of the bill.” I swallowed hard. With the money I got from the man yesterday and the cheque I had just received, I could afford the surgery—but there were other bills to take care of. “But don’t worry, Angel. I believe you’ll manage. The money you’ve already deposited is enough to get your mother admitted and begin chemotherapy,” he added reassuringly. I pursed my lips, staring blankly at him. “T-that’s a good thing, right?” I asked, my voice tinged with hope. He smiled, and nodded. “Yes, Angel. Your mom’s illness hasn’t reac

Angel's point of view I stood nervously behind the stage, my heart racing as I waited for my turn to perform. It felt like a pent up volcano was erupting in my stomach. How did Cassie manage to exude such confidence? She floated around the stage like a queen, while I felt like a trembling mess—a ball of anxiety barely holding it together. “Angel,” a gentle tap on my shoulder startled me, pulling me from my anxious thoughts. I turned to find Jade, one of the dancers, looking at me with a reassuring smile. “Relax, Angel. It’s just me. Besides, why are you so nervous? You’re literally the best dancer amongst us.” She complimented, her words catching me off guard. No one had ever spoken to me since I started working in this club, and it felt strange yet oddly comforting to hear such kindness. “Why—” I began, but my question was cut short as Ms. Mariella’s voice rang out, commanding my attention and freezing me in my tracks. “Next.” The single word sent a wave of pani

Angel's Point Of View. “So you’re going to be on TV?” Luca asked, surprise and excitement sparkling in his eyes. I nodded, and before I could catch my breath, he scooped me up and twirled me around, making me yelp in delight. “Luca!” I managed to giggle, my palms resting firmly on his shoulders as he spun me. “I’m so happy for you, sis! Can I be the lead male? Or even better, the evil man?” His mischievous grin spread wide as he pulled my hand to his chest, giving me those puppy eyes that always made me want to laugh. “Come on, you know I’m just an actress, right? I have people above me; I don’t call the shots, idiot.” His face fell for a moment, like a child denied candy, but then it lit up again, and I knew that glimmer—he was cooking up something cheeky. “Can I go to LA with you?” He blurted out. “Luca...." I drawled his name, not buying the idea. “Who’ll stay with Mom?” “We can transfer Mom,” he said quickly, optimism bubbling in his voice. "And college?” I

Angel's Point Of View As I stepped off the plane and into the bustling Los Angeles airport, a mix of nerves and excitement buzzed through me. My eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on a tall man in a crisp black suit, holding a sign with my name neatly printed on it. I swallowed hard and walked toward him, suddenly hyper-aware of how surreal this moment felt. Up close, he was even more striking—his blonde hair slicked back with precision, a pair of dark shades masking his expression. There was something effortlessly composed about him, like he had done this a hundred times before. Meanwhile, my heart was still racing from the flight. “Ms. Caribello?” He asked, his voice deep and professional. I managed a nod, gripping the strap of my bag a little tighter. Without missing a beat, he took my luggage, handling it with practiced ease, then gestured toward a sleek white car waiting at the curb. So this was it. My new beginning. He effortlessly lifted my luggage and