The Billionaire Regret After My Goodbye

Chapter 1 Aria's POV-Goodbye "NO... PLEASE... STAY AWAY! Don't hurt my baby, PLEASE!" My voice was barely audible, I curled up in the farthest corner of the operating room, my body pressed against the icy wall. The white dress I wore was wrinkled and stained, as crumpled as the chaos in my heart. I must've looked like a mess-my hair tangled and stuck to my tear-streaked face, my lips bitten raw, streaked with bl**d. But none of that mattered anymore. Not here. Not now. The doctors moved with sterile precision, dressed in pale blue scrubs, their gloved hands calmly arranging gleaming instruments that shimmered under the harsh fluorescent lights. The anesthesiologist adjusted the IV bag above me, the silver glint of the needle burning into my vision. "It's a simple procedure," he said with a professional smile. "It'll be over quickly." "Liar!" I shook my head violently, as if I could somehow shake his words out of my mind. "You're all liars! Mu**erers! You're trying to k**l my baby!" That child was all I had left-the only thing anchoring me to this life. How could I just give up on him? The head nurse stepped forward. Her face was colder than any of the doctors'. She grabbed my wrist with a grip like iron, sharp and emotionless. She motioned to the two orderlies. "Hold her down." As they reached for me, something primal surged up inside me. I screamed, broke free with every ounce of strength I had, and shoved her backward. She stumbled, crashing into the others. The room descended into chaos. And then- The door burst open. For a moment, my heart leapt. Kane? Did he change his mind? Did he finally come to save us? But no. It wasn't him. It was Baron-his assistant. He stood in the doorway, brows furrowed, his eyes filled with disdain. The way he looked at me... like I was nothing more than a madwoman causing trouble. Still, I had no choice. I had to try. This was the only sliver of hope left to me. "BARON! Baron, please!" I threw myself at him, collapsing to my knees and grabbing onto the fabric of his trousers. "Please-don't let them hurt my baby. I'm begging you..." There was no pride left in me. No dignity. Every ounce of strength I had was poured into this desperate plea. But he didn't even flinch. Not a flicker of sympathy. Without a word, he raised his foot and drove it into my shoulder. Pain exploded down my arm as I hit the cold floor, my face pressed against the tile. "I thought you'd come to your senses by now," he said, his voice like ice. I couldn't stop the tears. They poured down my face, hot and endless. My voice cracked as I whispered, "I don't understand... why? I just want to keep my baby. The baby hasn't done anything wrong..." "The boss doesn't want the baby," Baron said flatly. "I DON'T CARE WHAT HE WANTS!" I choked, my voice raw. "He doesn't have to raise the baby-I'll disappear, I swear. I'll leave and NEVER show my face again. Just... PLEASE, Baron, call him. Let me talk to him. Let me beg him, one last time.." I clung to his leg, sobbing, but he only looked down at me like I was a lunatic. "Fine," he muttered. "Then let me show you how things really are." He pulled out his phone. St**idly, I still hoped. I still thought maybe-just maybe-he was calling Kane for me. That maybe he still cared. But then the speaker crackled to life. "What if she refuses?" Baron's voice came through. "Refuse?" That voice... I'd know it anywhere. Deep, low, once warm enough to make me believe in forever. Now it sounded like a bl**e being dragged across stone. "She won't refuse. She knows it herself." Kane. My Kane. The man who used to whisper love into my ear like promises. Now his words carved through me like kn**es. "She is unworthy of being the mother of my child." he said, almost amused. And just like that-I broke. I didn't scream. I didn't wail. Just a quiet whimper escaped my throat, like a wounded animal. The world around me faded. All I could hear was the thunder of bl**d in my ears. My heart felt like it had been hollowed out with a rusted spoon. So this... this is what heartbreak really feels like. Not a cinematic explosion of pain. Just... emptiness. Numbness. I stood up slowly, legs trembling under me like wet paper. The massive window at the far end of the room caught my eye. Outside, the sky was the color of lead. How strange! The world looked so calm, even as mine crumbled to ash. The figures rushed toward me again, voices sharp and urgent. But I didn't hear them anymore. I climbed onto the windowsill, the wind sweeping my hair back from my face. One last glance at the sterile room behind me-filled with faceless people, masks, gloves, orders. They were still talking, but it didn't matter. I'd already made my choice. "Tell Kane... I'll do what he wants." My voice was clear, almost serene. "Goodbye." And then I leaned back, surrendering to the pull of gravity. As I fell, I didn't feel fear. Only peace. For once, this choice was mine. I touched my gently rounded belly one last time. I'm sorry, baby. I couldn't protect you. But at least now, they'll never separate us again. Chapter 2 Aria's POV-It's Dangerous Out There Years ago It was a Saturday night. The b*r pulsed with noise-shouting, laughter, the thumping beat of music that rattled your bones. Strobe lights cut across the room like bl**es, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of perfume, ci**rette sm**e, and al**hol. It choked me, made it hard to breathe. Before coming here, I'd downed a handful of hangover pills, praying I could hold my li**or long enough to sell more drinks tonight. That was how I made a living-selling al**hol on commission. The more I sold, the more I earned. But in places like this, business was rarely just business. Lately, the men didn't want to pay for the drinks-they wanted to see us drink them. They weren't buying al**hol. They were buying control. Amusement. And we, the salesgirls, were just part of the entertainment. I knew that. And I still did it. Because I had to. But tonight, I'd gone too far. The al**hol hit me hard. One second, I was trying to make another sale; the next, my vision blurred, and the floor tilted beneath me. I stumbled toward the restroom, barely making it to the toilet before I dropped to my knees and vomited violently. My stomach twisted like someone had their hand wrapped around it, squeezing. Nothing came up except bitter bile. I collapsed on the cold tile floor, forehead pressed against it, my body shaking uncontrollably. Toilets flushed all around me-mine, someone else's, I couldn't tell anymore. I don't know how long I stayed there before I managed to move. Slowly, painfully, I pushed myself up, one hand braced against the wall. My legs trembled under me, barely able to support my weight. My head felt like it was packed with cotton. The buzzing in my ears was constant. Voices filtered through the haze. I couldn't make out the words, just the rhythm-people searching for someone. Calling out. Laughing. I staggered forward, still hugging the wall. My stomach burned, and every step sent nausea clawing up my throat. I didn't care what they were saying. I just wanted to get out. And then-everything spun. Without warning, someone grabbed me from behind and hoisted me into the air. I let out a strangled g**p, but no sound came. I was slung over someone's shoulder like a rag doll, my stomach pressed hard against them, making my nausea flare. "She's not one of ours," a voice said hesitantly. "So what?" a woman sneered. "She's blackout drunk. Won't remember A DAMN THING tomorrow." Panic snapped through me like lightning. In b*rs like this, it wasn't unheard of for drunk girls to go missing-too far gone to scream, too weak to fight. Everyone's heard the stories. Doesn't matter the city, the country, the continent-there's always someone lurking, waiting to drag a girl away the moment she lets her guard down. God... don't tell me tonight I became that story. The thought slammed into me like ice water. My buzz snapped in half. Panic surged in its place. I tried to move, to fight, but my limbs felt like they'd been filled with cement. My arms wouldn't cooperate, and my legs-useless. I couldn't even lift my head. I was being carried-thrown over someone's shoulder like a sack of flour. His shoulder dug into my stomach, jostling me with every step. The pressure made the nausea worse, bile rising in my throat. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But all I could do was hang there, limp and helpless, the world spinning sideways as they dragged me into the dark. The mattress dipped beneath me, the world spinning as I tried to push myself up. My knees gave out beneath me, and I slumped to the floor, hitting the ground hard. I heard a click-the door shutting. I bit down on the tip of my tongue until I tasted bl**d. The sharp, metallic tang jolted me a little more awake. I couldn't let this happen. I had to get out. My back was drenched in cold sweat, my clothes sticky and clinging to me. I forced myself to stand, grabbing the edge of the bed for support. Then I heard footsteps. The door opened again. I froze. A man stepped inside-b**e-ch**ted, his skin glistening like he'd just come out of the shower. Water dripped from his hair onto his broad shoulders. His eyes landed on me. And in that moment, everything stopped. He looked at me with disgust. Cold, r*w, unmistakable disgust. I must've looked like h**l-smeared makeup, tangled hair, clothes clinging to me, neckline too low, skirt too short. Pathetic. He walked over and grabbed a towel from the couch, tossed it at me without a word. "Get out," he said flatly. I flinched, catching the towel instinctively. Before I could say anything, he disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. I wanted to leave. God, I wanted to run. But I couldn't. My legs wouldn't move. I was like a puppet with its strings cut. Trembling, I clutched the armrest of the couch and pulled myself up again. One step. Pain flared through my knee as I slipped and hit the ground. I barely managed to catch myself. I couldn't go out there-not like this. Not into the chaos of the b*r. Not when I couldn't stand straight. I looked around the room-foreign, unfamiliar, but at least it was closed off from the outside. Whoever this man was... he hadn't touched me. He didn't look like the type to take advantage. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Maybe that was the safest place I could be right now. I dragged myself to the table, picked up a glass of ice water, and downed it in one go. The cold shocked my senses, made me shiver violently-but it helped. Just a little. I heard the bathroom door open behind me. The man stepped out, now dressed, his towel gone. I turned and hesitated before walking toward him. I raised a hand and knocked lightly on the doorframe. He saw me and immediately scowled. "I told you to leave." "I know..." My voice trembled. "Please, sir. Just let me stay here for a bit. It's dangerous out there..." He yanked his arm away from me. "Not my problem," he snapped. He threw his damp clothes aside, marched to the door, and flung it open. "Three minutes. If you're still here, you'll regret it." I tried to beg again, but the words stuck in my throat. My knees buckled beneath me, and I crumpled to the floor. I barely registered the sound of him cu**ing, or the slam of the door as he shut it again. My vision blurred, my body burning and freezing at once. I think he said something. But I couldn't make sense of it. My mind was slipping, drifting... And then I felt arms scoop me up. He threw me back onto the b*d. And then-nothing. Darkness swallowed me whole. Chapter 3 Kane's POV-The Kiss She hit the bed with a soft bounce, her body weightless, like she didn't belong in the real world. I stood beside her, looking down, watching her. She looked troubled. Even unconscious, her brows were furrowed, her lashes trembling like she was trapped in a nightmare she couldn't escape. Her fingers clutched the bedsheet in a white-knuckled grip. I'd seen scenes like this before. More times than I cared to admit. I was used to women throwing themselves at me. They knew exactly what to do-how to smile, how to m**n on cue, when to feign innocence, when to beg. It always felt like a performance. And frankly, it bored me. But this one... she was different. She wasn't putting on a show. She wasn't trying to se**ce. Her lipstick was smeared, her makeup ruined, her breath hot with the sting of al**hol. When I reached out to touch her, her body flinched-not in invitation, but in fear. Genuine fear. That was new. I leaned down and gripped her chin gently but firmly, tilting her face toward me. She whimpered and tried to push me away, her arms trembling with the effort. But it wasn't the fl**tatious push of a co**ette-it was weak, desperate, real. There was something raw in the way she resisted. Something fragile. Something human. I should've stopped. Instead, I traced my thumb along her bottom lip. "Do you know where you are?" I asked, voice low, almost a whisper against her skin. Her lips were slightly parted, her breath laced with w**e and regret. She didn't answer. Just turned her head as if she could disappear from my touch. Of course, she couldn't. I tightened my grip. Her breath hi**hed, ch**t rising fast and uneven. Her eyes blinked open-wild, glassy, pleading. "Let me go..." she whispered. I leaned closer, our faces inches apart. "Let go?" I echoed, my voice curling into something dark and teasing. "Sweetheart, it's too late for that." I knew what I was doing. I knew the pressure in my voice, the weight of those words. I wanted her to understand-this was my room, my rules. She clearly understood what I meant, her body suddenly tensed up, and she resisted my hands even more forcefully, but this force was not so much resistance as it was an invitation. And that only made me want her more. I hadn't felt like this in years. Her flushed cheeks, her parted lips-I couldn't hold back any longer. I dipped my head and brushed my lips against her ear, catching the sharp little shiver that ran through her body. Her breath was hot against my neck-sharp and unsteady. It ignited something in me. She had to be doing this on purpose. I ca**ured her mouth in a k**s before I could think twice. Her lips were unbelievably soft, the k**s consumed me. My skin prickled with heat, every nerve ending on fire. I hadn't lost control like this in... I couldn't even remember when. Was I really that deprived? Or was there something about her-this broken, trembling girl-that made me feel like a teenager again, ki**ing someone for the first time? She wh**pered when I pulled away for breath. "No... don't..." But I couldn't stop. I didn't want to. My hand found her waist, sliding around to her back, holding her against me. My other hand wrapped around her wrist. She smelled clean, like rain or fresh cotton. Untouched. And I wanted to ruin her. I wanted her to smell like me. And just when I thought she was starting to respond-everything changed. She jerked. Hard. I froze. Pulled back, just enough to see her face-only for her to suddenly roll over, lurching toward the edge of the bed. And then it happened. "Ugh-" She vomited violently, the sound tearing through the room, raw and sudden. The stench of al**hol and bile hit me like a punch. I looked down and saw the mess-on the floor, on the bedspread... on me. The carpet was ruined. My shirt was drenched in it. Any heat, any de**re I'd felt-it vanished. She stayed hunched over the edge of the bed, her hair a tangled curtain hiding her face, her shoulders shaking. She looked wrecked. Broken. Like someone who didn't belong here. Like someone who had fallen into the wrong life. I stood there in stunned silence, watching the disaster unfold in slow motion. The night, my mood, my intentions-it all came crashing down. Chapter 4 Aria's POV-Sleep With Me Once Early the next morning. The moment I opened my eyes, it felt like my skull had been split open. A dull, throbbing pain pulsed through my head, and my entire body ached like I'd been hit by a truck. Every bone in me seemed to be protesting in agony. I tried to turn over and go back to sl**p, but something beneath me jabbed into my spine, hard and unyielding. What the h**l? Why did my bed suddenly feel like a slab of concrete? With a gr**n, I forced myself upright. My eyelids felt like they weighed a ton. It took everything I had just to sit up. I glanced down- And froze. I was completely n**ed. Lying on the floor. "Ah!" A scream tore from my throat before I could think. Panic surged like a tidal wave, wiping out all coherent thought. I scrambled to my feet, grabbing the towel from the back of the couch and wrapping it tightly around myself. I looked like a deranged marsupial, stumbling and flailing around the room, desperate for answers I didn't have. Shame, fear, confusion-they all crashed over me at once, making it hard to breathe. Then, the bathroom door swung open with a sharp click. A man stepped out. A stranger. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dressed in nothing but a towel, water still dripping from his hair. His eyes locked on me-cold, sharp, and pissed. "S**T UP!" he barked before I could process what I was seeing. He snatched a vase from the table and hurled it at the floor, just inches from my feet. Crash. Porcelain shattered, shards skittering across the room. I flinched, heart thundering, and felt a sharp sting at my heel. I looked down-bl**d. A red trail began snaking across the floor from the cut on my foot. "Ah!" I screamed again, this time from the pain. He stormed over and grabbed me without a word, tossed me onto the mattress like I weighed nothing. Then he shoved a pillowcase into my mouth, his voice low and furious, "I said s**t up." I whimpered, staring up at him in terror. My whole body trembled. There was something in his expression-disgust, yes, but also... something else. A flicker of familiarity. And just like that, pieces of the night before began to return. Blinding lights. The bitter burn of al**hol. His face, distant and cold. He stepped away after a moment, apparently satisfied I wasn't about to lose it again. He picked up a phone, barked out orders with casual indifference. "Send someone to clean the room. Bring up a first aid kit. And breakfast." Then he turned his back and walked toward the wardrobe, opening it as if I weren't even there. I lay there, still wrapped in the sheets, trying to pull myself together. My thoughts were a tangled mess. All I knew was, I needed to get dressed. Fast. I pulled the pillowcase from my mouth and yanked the blanket tighter around me, sitting up slowly. I checked between my legs-no pain, no signs of... vi**ation. My ch**t loosened a little. Maybe... maybe nothing happened. My clothes were crumpled in the corner like they'd been thrown there. I limped to them, wrapped in the blanket, and hurried into the bathroom to get dressed. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Soon, someone had left a first aid kit just outside the door. I sat on the cold tile floor and patched up my foot as best I could. Then I caught my reflection in the mirror-hair a disaster, eyes puffy, skin pale. I forced myself to breathe, then stepped back into the room. But the man was gone. The room was empty. My eyes drifted to the untouched breakfast on the table. Not a single bite taken. I didn't kid myself into thinking it was meant for me. He didn't strike me as the kind of man who'd offer kindness out of nowhere-especially not after the way he looked at me last night, like I was a problem he couldn't wait to get rid of. That breakfast wasn't an invitation. It was a silent message: You know what to do. Leave. Fine by me. I didn't want to stay a second longer than I had to. This place-his presence, even in absence-felt like it pressed down on me, thick and suffocating. Still, before I walked out, I let a quiet word slip into the emptiness. "Thank you." I just considered it a thank you to the man who took me in for the night, and left without looking back. The elevator doors closed behind me, and only then did I finally exhale. The shame, the confusion, the fear that had been crushing me all morning finally began to ease. Just a little. But my hands were still shaking. We were out last night promoting al**hol. Coming back drunk wasn't exactly rare. But the way I looked this morning-hair like a bird's nest, rumpled clothes clinging to my body, foot wrapped in gauze-I looked like a walking scandal. And I had no memory. No way to defend myself if anyone started asking questions. Of course, the moment I stepped into the locker room, the whispers started. "...her dress was t**n..." "I told you, there's no way she hits those sales numbers without-" Their voices slithered into my ears like poison. I clenched my jaw and kept my eyes down, refusing to let the tears win. Who would believe me if I said I spent the night with a man and nothing happened? H**l, I didn't even believe it myself. I changed quickly and headed for the door, just wanting to disappear. But as soon as I stepped outside, I heard it: "Aria!" It was Hank-my manager-barreling toward me like a freight train. Sweaty, out of breath, his gut bouncing with every step. "Hank?" I blinked. "There's... there's a guy out front looking for you!" he wheezed, grabbing my arm. "Real expensive car, too. Brought an entourage! They're waiting at the entrance!" "What?" I blinked, stunned. My mind flashed back to the man in the hotel room. Cold eyes. That piercing glare. Was it... him? My foot throbbed like it remembered too. Before I could ask anything else, Hank was dragging me outside. A black Rolls-Royce Cullinan sat at the curb, sleek and menacing like a predator waiting to pounce. My throat tightened as the car door opened. Men in black suits stepped out-stoic, muscular, definitely bodyguards. "Boss," one of them said. "She's here." I couldn't breathe. Then a polished leather shoe touched the pavement. A tailored trouser leg followed, then the broad figure of a man stepping out of the car like he owned the world. It was him. The same man from this morning. He adjusted the button on his blazer with practiced ease. When his eyes found mine, a chill ran down my spine. Each step he took made the air feel heavier. I stepped back, trembling. "S-Sir... what do you want?" He didn't answer. Just flicked his gaze toward the bodyguards. They closed in, forming a wall around us, blocking out the curious onlookers. The street fell silent. He turned his gaze back to me, his voice low and biting. "You left without my permission." What? I stared at him, stunned. I remembered that sharp "Get out" from the night before. The look of utter disgust on his face. And now here he was-close, burning hot, his fingers curling around my wrist. "I... I thought you wanted me gone," I stammered. "Last night... thank you-" "You SHOULD thank me," he said coolly, leaning in. Cologne. Warm skin. A dangerous smile. "You puked all over me." My head snapped up. Another memory hit me-his furious expression, the sound of ri**ing fabric, a flash of muscle under soft light- Oh my god. The mu**le wasn't the point right now! "I... I can pay for the cleaning-" "Sl**p with me once," he interrupted smoothly. "We'll call it even." His voice was calm, almost casual. Like he was asking about the weather. Chapter 5 Kane's POV-Remember It There she stood--frozen, trembling, eyes wide with fear--but still glaring at me with defiance burning behind those lashes. Like a cornered kitty. Terrified out of her mind, but baring her teeth anyway. Yeah...that's it. A kitty. The perfect word for her. Last night, the way she te**ed me, her flushed skin, those lips brushing against mine--I was this close to losing control. I was ready to take her, right there and then. But just as I leaned in, drunk on l**t-- She puked all over me. F**king unbelievable. And the worst part? I cleaned it up. With my own d**mn hands. Scrubbed the floor, wiped her down, even helped her into bed. N**ed, vulnerable, right there in front of me, and I didn't to**h her. Not once. If anyone heard about that, they'd think I'd gone soft. Or worse--im**tent. Normally, I'd have kicked someone like her straight out the door. But there was something about her last night...all curled up, unconscious, tears caught in her lashes. Fragile. Breakable. A woman like that lay next to me all night, and I hardly sl**t a wink. And when I woke up this morning, my body reacted honestly, and I had to admit that at that moment I de**red her intensely, and I knew clearly that it was this woman in front of me that I de**red. I figured a cold shower might help. But the moment she opened her eyes, she screamed like I was a monster. Like I'd already done something unspeakable. The rage hit me fast--hot and bitter. I shattered a vase before I could stop myself, but all I managed to do was scare her even more...and worse, I hurt her. Great. So much for self-control. Fine. I told myself I'd hit pause. Let her clean up, calm down, maybe get some food in her before we talked again. It wasn't easy, but I held back. Honestly, I must be the most decent d**n man on this planet. And what did she do? She ran. Slipped out the moment I left to check the security footage. The second I realized she was gone, all my patience turned to ash. My so-called kindness? A joke. So I did what any sane, slightly pissed-off man would do: I tracked her down. Pulled the footage. Dug into her background. Turns out she's a liquor rep--bouncing from b*r to bar in short skirts and high heels, smiling pretty for dr**k men who think a bottle means they own her. It doesn't take a genius to figure out how she makes her money. And the thought of her dressed like that every night, parading through sleazy b*rs, letting desperate men l**r at her, maybe even sl**ping with one or two for the right price… It lit something dark inside me. If she's selling, why shouldn't I be her client? But the moment I suggested it--her whole body flinched. She went pale, lips trembling. For a second, I thought she might faint. My anger fizzled out. Replaced by...curiosity. Even now, standing in front of me, she looked like she could snap in two--but that chin of hers stayed high. Proud. Stubborn. She didn't say no, but her expression screamed it. She didn't realize--that look only made me want her more. I leaned down and br**hed my lips against hers. Just a t**se. Just to rattle her. Then-- "AH!" Pain exploded across my mouth. I jerked back, stunned. Bl**d. She bit me. This kitty actually bit me! I touched my lip--my fingers came away red. She stood three paces away, shivering like a leaf in the wind, but her eyes sparkled with fury. My bl**d stained her lips. "Sir," she said, voice shaking but clear, "SHOW SOME RESPECT." Respect? I laughed, low and bitter, wiping the bl**d with the back of my hand. "I only respect people who've earned it." The words hit their mark. Her fists clenched at her sides, rage flaring behind her eyes, turning the soft vulnerability into something sharper. Fiercer. "If this is about last night," she said through gritted teeth, each word deliberate, "I'll apologize. I'll pay for the suit. But I'm not for sale. And if you insist on degrading me…" She paused. Breathing hard. Like a fish out of water, gasping to survive. I waited, intrigued. "…then I swear, I'll take you down with me." Now that got my attention. The cut on my lip burned, but the anger didn't come. Not really. What I felt was...entertained. "And how do you plan to do that?" I took a step forward. She stepped back, just like I knew she would. "You going to the media? Call the cops?" Another step. Closer. Close enough to smell the faint trace of al**hol still in her hair. "Let me guess--'He ki**ed me against my will,' or maybe, 'I walked into his room completely n**ed, and somehow, he's the problem'?" But she didn't flinch at my provocation. "This has nothing to do with you," she snapped, her chin lifting in quiet defiance. "And remember--I've got nothing to lose." Then her gaze shifted past me--to my car, my bodyguards, my entire world--and she added, almost too softly: "But you do, sir." Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried a kind of weight that demanded attention. That quiet fire, that unyielding edge--she looked straight at me like she wasn't afraid, not really. Like she was daring me. Just like that stray kitten I rescued as a kid--backed into a corner, no claws, no escape, trembling with fear but still baring its teeth, still arching its back like it could take on the whole d**n world. It's a strange feeling, like the anger of being offended, yet also the excitement of discovering a new toy. God, I hadn't felt this alive in years. I wasn't angry anymore. I was intrigued. Not because I believed her threats. Not because I felt guilty. But because I wanted to see what she'd do next. I wanted to see her claws. "I'll remember that," I said with a smirk, pulling a handkerchief from my pocket and pressing it to my lip. "Kane Wolfe. That's my name." She needed to remember it. Because one day, she'd whisper it herself. And beg. Chapter 6 Aria's POV-We Slept Together The moment he let go, my wrist still burned from the force of his grip-like it had been seared into my skin. I stood frozen, watching his back as he walked away without a second glance. That was it? He just... left? What the h**l did that mean? I'd braced myself for the worst-his fury, being dragged away by his bodyguards, maybe even a desperate scuffle using the bits of self-defense I'd barely managed to learn. But he didn't do anything. Nothing. Just left his name behind: Kane Wolfe. The name rang a bell. Familiar, like something I should remember-but couldn't. Bang- The back door slammed open. A flurry of hands grabbed my arms, hauling me inside like I was nothing more than a ripped tr**h bag. "Aria! Are you out of your d**n mind? Do you even know who that was?" My coworker was hysterical, her voice trembling. "Kane Wolfe! The CEO of ATTA Group! Don't tell me you've never heard of ATTA!" The harsh white light of the storeroom painted everyone's faces an unhealthy shade of gray. It buzzed overhead, flickering slightly like it too was holding its breath. Someone silently handed me a towel. Only then did I notice the crescent-shaped welts in my palms. My ears rang as whispers drifted around me. "Last month... a paparazzo snapped a photo of him. The next day he just-" She didn't finish. She didn't have to. Everyone shuddered. I stared down at my trembling fingers. In their eyes, I was already a dead woman walking. From that day on, I lived with my nerves strung tight. Every time my phone vibrated, my heart skipped a beat. Every time a black sedan passed by, my legs moved faster, almost on instinct. That primal fear-the kind prey feels when a predator has them in its sights-took root deep in my bones. But strangely, three days passed... and nothing happened. By the next day, I was back to my routine, hawking li**or, bouncing from one b*r to the next. I didn't even avoid Neon Pulse, the place where everything had gone down. I kept waiting-for someone to corner me, threaten me, make me vanish. But no one came. It was as if that whole night had never happened. Like a bad dream I couldn't wake up from. Until tonight. I finally understood what it meant to be truly out of options. Like any other night, I showed up at the back entrance of Neon Pulse, ready to pitch our products. My bag slung over one shoulder, my head buzzing with numbers and quotas. That's when I saw Jaxon, the head waiter, standing stiffly in the hallway. His tie hung loose around his neck, sweat beading at his temple. He looked like a man who didn't want to say what he had to say. "Hey, Jaxon," I called. "Everything okay?" His eyes swept over me, full of conflict and exhaustion. It took him a long moment to respond. "Aria... don't come here anymore." I blinked. "Sorry-what?" "I'm just following orders." He rubbed the back of his neck, his voice flat. "The boss said you're banned from selling li**or here. I tried to vouch for you, but... I nearly got fired myself." A cold weight settled in my ch**t. "Do you know why?" He looked away, then muttered under his breath, "It's ATTA." My breath caught. "ATTA sent letters to every licensed venue on this street." He pulled a white envelope from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. His eyes were apologetic. "Anyone who lets you in loses their license." My knuckles whitened around the paper. So that's how it was. They let me walk away-to corner me quietly, ruthlessly. One step at a time, choking off every exit. But I wasn't ready to give up. If I could still breathe, then I could still fight. If I couldn't sell to b*rs, I'd find another way. I began reaching out to supermarket buyers, e-commerce managers-anyone who might take a chance on Oak, our small, unheard-of brand. We didn't have name recognition, but we had quality. Fair prices. Pa**ion. I thought that would be enough. It wasn't. Two weeks later, the reality hit hard. Every buyer I met with frowned, sneered, or tossed my brochure straight into the tr**h. "Don't come back," they snapped. Online retailers weren't any better. "I'm sorry," one customer service rep said. "It's out of our hands. Company policy..." One rejection. Then another. Then another. My feet ached. My inbox filled with automated replies: "Unfortunately, we are unable to proceed with your request at this time..." Not a single bottle sold. By tonight, my body felt like it might collapse. I locked myself inside the storeroom and sank to the floor, hugging my knees. Tears streamed down my face, silent and uncontrollable. Outside, I could hear coworkers murmuring through the thin door. "Why are there so many returns again?" "The warehouse is overflowing." "It's all because of Aria... " They weren't wrong. This was my fault. And if I made the mess, then I had to clean it up. *** The next morning, just before dawn, I left my apartment. I stood across the street from the ATTA building, its glass facade gleaming in the early light. The tallest skyscraper in the city. Once, I'd dreamed of walking through those doors in heels and a tailored suit, negotiating deals on my terms. Now I was here for something else. Not power. Not pride. I was here to beg for a chance to survive. Drawing a deep breath, I walked into the lobby. The receptionist smiled politely as I approached. "Good morning, miss. Do you have an appointment?" My throat tightened. I shook my head. "No. But... he knows me. You can tell him... I'm Aria Vale." Her smile faltered for a moment, and then she reached for a form. "Understood. Just a moment. For security purposes, may I ask-what is your relationship with Mr. Wolfe?" My heart hammered against my ribs. My mind scrambled for answers-business contact, acquaintance, client... But I didn't want the safe answer. I wanted the one that left no room for retreat. I met her gaze, forced a smile, and said evenly: "We sl**t together." ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &2&