Chapter 1

I’d been with Damian Lockwood for five years.

To buy him a better hearing aid, I worked as a cocktail waitress at a sketchy downtown nightclub—the kind of place where dignity dies a thousand slow deaths.

That night, some VIPs were in the house. We were ordered to crawl in on our knees to serve them champagne.

“Yo, Damian, what’s the deal? You’re getting engaged next month—ditching the side piece already?”

A sleek Italian leather shoe tapped rhythmically against my cheek. No response.

“Or don’t tell me you actually wanna turn that street rat into a housewife?”

After a long pause, he finally spoke.

“You said it yourself. She’s trash.”

“She was just a toy. Nothing more.”

“Bringing her home would dirty the Lockwood name.”

The silence that had momentarily stiffened the room shattered into wild laughter.

“I knew it! Our precious Damian just got tired of gourmet dining and decided to slum it for some gutter flavor.”

“You know what I heard? My housekeeper saw her at the farmer’s market, digging through piles of wilted lettuce trying to find something edible. The vendors were practically begging her to leave.”

“And once she got a whole bucket of bloody fish water dumped on her. Didn’t even know I was the one who set that up. Hahaha—”

“And y’all had the nerve to ask Damian about her like she’s relevant. I’d be disgusted too.”

The shoe kept tapping my face. Harder now.

Like someone was pissed.

“By the way, Damian, hadn’t seen you around here in a while. What brought you back tonight?”

Damian lounged on the leather couch like a king, stretching with deliberate boredom.

“You ever try pretending to be half-deaf and mute every day? It’s exhausting.”

I was shaking. Violently.

That shoe he wore? Worth more than thirty years of my wages here—if I didn’t eat or sleep. More than a hundred high-end hearing aids I could’ve bought him.

I didn’t even recognize the brand until yesterday.

I’d been working three jobs, running on empty, and accidentally stepped on some woman’s high heel.

“I’m so sorry—I’ll pay for it, please don’t report me…”

She didn’t say anything. Just chuckled.

“No need to pay.”

She took off the heel—it barely had a scuff on it—and hurled it at my face.

The impact stung like hell. Warm blood trickled down.

If I hadn’t turned fast enough, that stiletto heel would’ve gone straight into my eye.

“Pay me back? Honey, you couldn’t even in twenty years.”

“Get lost, you filthy thing.”

“Oh, right. Why don’t you wear my shoes for now, trash? Get a taste of quality.”

The heels were five inches tall. Torture devices.

But I had no right to refuse.

This job paid more than everything else combined. Dangerous, yes. But it was the fastest way to buy Damian the best hearing aid on the market.

When you live at the bottom, dignity isn’t a necessity. It’s a luxury.

Damian’s leather shoes—the ones that struck me—and the heels now strapped on my battered feet… were the same brand.

If I hadn’t recognized his voice, I never would’ve believed he owned them.

By the time I crawled into that room, my heels were raw and bleeding.

Chapter 2

The words they flung at me—“toy,” “street rat,” “garbage”—cut deeper than any blade. I wanted to disappear.

I waited, hoping once they grabbed their drinks, I could quietly slip away.

But before I could move, that same shoe kicked hard into my face.

“Didn’t your manager teach you how to do your job? What’s with the shaking?”

“You spilled some wine earlier. Lick it up.”

I hit the ground, dazed and humiliated.

My eyes met Damian’s.

The manager made us wear masks. He didn’t recognize me.

“Did you not hear me? Lick. It. Up.”

“You don’t have to. But after tonight, good luck getting hired anywhere in this city.”

“A hooker with pride? That’s new.”

The room was dark, rowdy. But I could see his eyes clearly.

Once, those eyes were filled with love.

Now? Just disgust. Like I was a cockroach in his penthouse.

He caught me staring.

He leaned in, grabbed my face, pressing hard where I’d been cut earlier.

The pain made me flinch.

“Lick it. Or don’t. But don’t test my patience.”

He paused, narrowing his eyes at me.

Just then, someone gasped.

“Damian! Look at those shoes.”

“Aren’t those the custom couple edition you got for Miss Kensington? The same ones you’re wearing now?”

“What’s a rat like her doing in your fiancée’s shoes?”

“She steal them or something?”

“Everyone knows how much you adore Miss Kensington. Does this tramp really think copying her look would earn your love?”

“Trash is trash. A sewer rat in Louboutins is still a rat.”

I froze.

Fiancée?

So that radiant, elegant woman who tossed her heel at me like garbage… was his future wife?

Damian let out a slow, unreadable laugh.

The suck-up who made the comment took that as encouragement and launched into praise about Damian and Miss Kensington’s “perfect romance.”

Suddenly—a loud crack.

A wine bottle shattered over the man’s head.

Blood streamed down his face. Screams. Chaos.

Damian didn’t say a word.

But everyone around went deathly silent.

The manager came rushing in, took one look at the scene, and nearly pissed himself.

Damian turned to me again, grabbing my face.

“Copying her won’t get you anywhere.”

“But those eyes… you’re lucky.”

“I like them.”

He shoved me to the floor.

“I’ll do you a favor.”

“You spend one night with me, I’ll let the past slide. Hell, I’ll even make sure you thrive in this town. What do you say?”

You didn’t need a psychology degree to know Damian was in a foul mood.

In this glittering circle of elites, Damian Lockwood was the apex predator.

When he got angry, the only thing everyone cared about… was how to make him un-angry.

Someone yanked the manager aside.

“You seriously need to learn how to read a room.”

“Can’t you see what Mr. Lockwood wants?”

“Get this girl cleaned up and sent to his bed. Now.”

Chapter 3

“I mean, come on, don’t you know what Mr. Lockwood likes by now? He’s got a thing for girls with eyes like that. Plays with one, moves on to the next…”

To me, though, he was always soft.

Like a spoiled little puppy throwing tantrums—but still endearing.

I suddenly remembered those nights tangled up with him, sweat and whispers in the dark.

He told me his left ear was almost completely deaf. That he’d press his right ear to my chest just to hear my heartbeat… before kissing me like I was the only sound he needed.

“Baby,” he once said, voice hoarse and full of heat, “I swear I could fuck you ’til you forget your name.”

“But I’m scared I’ll hurt you, babe.”

That was the only time I saw the edge behind his charm—something dark and dangerous.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, I’d feel the bed shift and know he was slipping out. Quiet as a ghost.

And by morning, there he was. Freshly showered, smiling with breakfast ready.

“Come eat, sweetheart,” he’d say like nothing happened.

“Damian… I think you left in the middle of the night. You didn’t come back.”

His eyes flickered. Then he laughed, wrapping an arm around me.

“I couldn’t burn off the energy with you, so I had to hit the gym. Gotta stay sane somehow.”

So that’s what he called it. “Exercise.”

The club manager was a seasoned operator. It didn’t take him long to catch on to what Damian really wanted.

Humiliation? Pain? That was just foreplay.

Right now, he wanted me.

The manager crouched beside me, hand extended.

“Looks like it’s your lucky night. Come with me.”

I slapped his hand away.

My mind hadn’t caught up with the chaos. Everything that happened tonight—it was too much. Too fast.

My head spun with memories of Damian—gentle, playful, tender.

I couldn’t reconcile that man with this one.

The manager looked into my vacant eyes and sighed.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“If Damian hadn’t taken a liking to those eyes of yours, you wouldn’t be walking out of here.”

He glanced down at my feet and added darkly, “If you’re lucky, you’d leave with just broken legs.”

“You work in a place like this and think you’re still clean? You literally stole Miss Kensington’s heels trying to seduce Mr. Lockwood.”

“Don’t play the innocent card. Damian doesn’t fall for the whole ‘reluctant tease’ act. You keep this up and no one’s gonna save you—”

“Do you even realize how many girls would kill for this? Damian made a promise—you should be grateful.”

“One night with him is better than spending the rest of your life crippled. Think about it.”

One of the rich kids nearby whistled.

“Man, you make it sound so wholesome.”

“Everyone knows Damian’s a freak in bed. Some of those girls before? Shit, even I couldn’t handle that—and I’ve got a kink or two.”

“But hey, she’s a working girl, right? Can’t be squeamish. Better than getting your legs smashed, right? Hahaha…”

Someone muttered sarcastically, “Thought Damian only played with virgins. This one? She looks like she’s been passed around like a joint.”

“Doesn’t he mind she’s so… used?”

“Want us to do a little quality check for you, Damian? Wouldn’t want you getting grossed out after she’s in your bed.”

Damian looked at me, something unreadable in his eyes, and then gave a small nod.

He started texting.

“Hey, Mami, Something came up tonight. Probably not coming home. Love you.”

Chapter 4

He was such a good actor.

He even faked his speech—made it sound like the hearing loss affected his pronunciation.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. The text came through right after he sent it.

“Mr. Lockwood seems really protective of his little gutter toy. Why keep her around and let her live like trash?”

“Maybe watching some broke girl kill herself over a few dollars in tips makes him feel like a god. Maybe that’s his kink?”

Someone grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me away.

The girls in the corner eyed me like vultures.

I don’t know why, but my throat felt like it was caving in.

It took everything I had to choke out one word.

“Damian…”

The music suddenly blasted louder, swallowing my voice.

“Turn it up,” someone said. “Don’t want her screaming and ruining the mood for Mr. Lockwood.”

The debutante brats surrounded me like hunters circling prey.

“You slut. Damian’s marrying Shanna soon, and you’re still trying to whore your way in? Let’s fix that attitude of yours.”

They yanked me into a dark corner. A pack of them surrounded me.

“Strip her,” one ordered.

No matter how I fought, I couldn’t win against them all.

Within seconds, I was stripped bare.

Someone noticed the bruises and red marks scattered across my skin and scoffed.

“Knew she was a filthy whore.”

Their eyes roamed over me without shame, tearing at me without even touching.

One of them stomped on my foot, ripped the heels off, and hurled them at my bare body.

“Stay the fuck still!”

“You think covering up’s gonna help? We all know what you’ve got going on down there.”

“A whore playing innocent? Pathetic.”

They pried my hands away and raised a camera.

“No—please—don’t…”

Didn’t matter.

My resistance only earned me more blows.

By the time they finished, I felt hollow—body and soul.

I didn’t know how many pictures they took.

Just that someone leaned down and whispered in my ear:

“Play nice, or we’ll spread those nudes like wildfire.”

A voice called out toward Damian.

“Mr. Lockwood, we checked her out for you. She’s disgusting. Not worth it. We figured you wouldn’t wanna see.”

Damian’s mood clearly soured.

He stared at his phone, annoyed the screen was still blank.

I’d never gone this long without replying to him.

Even when he lost it over me being too busy to spend time with him lately, I never ignored him.

Never.

With a flick of his hand, he threw his phone aside.

“Fuck it. Bring her up.”

“I’m in a shitty mood.”

The crowd parted like the Red Sea.

They all turned to stare at me, grinning.

My heart was pounding so fast it hurt.

Hands trembling, I reached up to the mask covering my face.

It was the only thing I had left.

The only way I could maybe, just maybe—save myself.

“Damian Lockwood… it’s me…”