Chapter 4 At The Hospital

• RILEY'S POV
• The hospital corridors smelled like overcooked food and bad news.
• I’d just come from the billing office. I should’ve felt something—relief, pride, something. But all I felt was exhaustion.
• I dropped a manila envelope on the counter, filled with every dine I’d scraped together from the last three weeks. Tips from waiting tables, a borrowed amount from a friend I swore I'd pay back. Even the tiny savings I’d hidden away in my makeup bag.
• I was barely able to get one third of the money, and nothing more.
• The woman at the desk opened the envelope and counted silently. Her expression didn’t change. She didn’t look impressed or grateful or even surprised. Just tapped a few keys on her computer and said, “That leaves 1.5 million, Miss Riley. You’ll need to clear the balance before next Friday.”
• I nodded. I didn’t have the energy to argue or ask what would happen if I didn't. I already knew.
• might drop from there.
• Back home, I sat on the floor beside my bed, shoes still on, eyes on the ceiling like the answer
• I tried. God knows I had.
• I took extra shifts. Skipped meals. Swallowed my pride and knocked on doors. I sold my camera. Gave up the idea of ever going back to school. Still, 1.5 million loomed like a wall I couldn’t climb.
• Philip didn’t ask where the money came from. Not that he would approve. He still walked around like he could pray this away—like morals could cure debt.
• He didn’t thank me either.
• Not that I expected it.
• The message came two days later. I didn’t see it coming.
• One of the job placement agencies I’d registered with weeks ago—quietly, desperately—sent an alert. Not a cleaning gig. Not restaurant work.
• Just one line:
• > “Discreet client. One-night arrangement. 1.5 million. No repeat bookings. Do you consent to be considered?”
• I blinked at the screen.
• It didn’t say escort. It didn’t say sex. But it didn’t have to.
• There was a button at the bottom: YES / NO
• I stared at it for a long time.
• Then I pressed YES.
• That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about Dad, alone in a hospital bed he might be evicted from. I kept thinking about Philip and his rules. About all the people I’d called, the doors I’d knocked on, the jobs I’d applied for too late.
• And I thought about the message. The offer. The cost.
• I didn’t want to say yes.
• I wanted someone to tell me I didn’t have to.
• But nobody did.
• I laid in bed with my thoughts, staring at the ceiling again. It had become my favourite hubby since I had cut off from my friends. I couldn't bring myself to tell Veronica about it either. What would I say?
• I had desperately searched for a way of escape and now, the opportunity had presented itself and rather than happiness, all I could feel was dread. And although I had already given my reply, I started questioning my decision. It was tormenting but somehow, I slept through the torment for that night.
• There are things you tell yourself you’d never do.
• Lines you draw in the sand, confident they’ll hold even when the tide rolls in.
• Until the tide becomes a tsunami.
• The hospital called again the next morning.
• Philip didn’t pick up. He never does anymore. I listened to the voicemail alone, back pressed against the cold kitchen wall, clutching my coffee like it could keep me from falling apart. Their tone was less patient this time—less polite. Final reminder. They always say that. Final. But this one felt different.
• It was more than enough to pull me out of whatever I was thinking about the previous night, more than enough to get me to shut off my conscience and face the harsh reality of life head on. And that morning, anticipation replaced the dread from the previous night.
• I stared at the address for about 20 minutes before I picked up my nude stilettos and a shade of lipstick I hadn't worn in a long time. My hands trembled as I zipped my dress that hugged my body like a second skin, hair held in a bun so tight that it hurt. I desperately wanted to look like someone else. Someone who belonged in places like this and didn't flinch at what she was about to do.
• The ride to the hotel passed in a blur, glass windows, city lights and stomach in knots.
• At the entrance, a concierge led me silently to the private elevator. I rode up alone, heart pounding harder with every floor.
• I stared at the door about to knock when the door opened.
• “Shut the door behind you,” came a baritone so deep I almost peed myself.
• I stepped in and shut the door behind me.
• The room reeked of a familiar cologne. That was the funny thing, Philip doesn't use strong cologne and I knew it was something Jake couldn't afford.
• He sat there inspecting me like a Predator observing his prey.
• “Step into the light,” he said and I found myself compelled to do just that.
• He stood up with the agility of a cheetah and rolled up his sleeves and holy! I couldn't help but drool at the attractive sight. I looked at his forearms and that's when I saw them.
• The tattoos.
• My breadth caught. I knew those tattoos and slowly, I realised I wasn't hallucinating. It was the guy I bumped into at the club.
• He came closer and I felt intimidated by his height.
• He lifted my chin to meet his gaze. Our eyes locked, he recognised me too.
• There was a flicker of surprise then control. He didn't say anything and just stepped back.
• I suddenly felt worried but I didn't show it.
• “ I'm sure you know why you're here,” he said leaning on the wall.
• “Yes”
• He nodded with a smirk on his face and turned on the lights.
• It gave me the ability to look and observe the suite properly.
• I looked at the other end of the room and saw a strip pole.
• “Go on, strip.”