Chapter 2

It was dark outside, the cool night air brushing against my skin as I ran down the street. The letter was still in my bag, its words replaying in my mind. *I’m not your real mother.*  

I kept running, hoping the motion would clear my thoughts, but nothing helped. I couldn’t outrun the truth. Eventually, I stopped at a bench on the side of the road and sat down, burying my face in my hands.  

What was I supposed to do now? Go back home and let her finish explaining? Or head to work at the club, pretending like nothing had happened?  

The disappointment from this morning still clung to me, but now it was overshadowed by something deeper. Who was I? Where did I come from? And why had my real parents abandoned me?  

The questions spun in my head, relentless and unforgiving. For the first time in my life, I felt completely lost.  

As I walked down the road, the cool evening air brushed against my skin, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside me. My thoughts churned like restless waves, crashing and overlapping, refusing to settle. My mom, Natalia Vargas, was my whole world. 

I remembered her as a young woman, working tirelessly as a receptionist at a hotel,one of the most prestigious places in the city. Back then, she was vibrant and hopeful, though often worn down by the long hours. I was just a child, clinging to her legs as she’d come home, to me, with love, attention and care. 

Then one day, she quit. I asked her why, but her response was vague. Some things aren’t worth the risk, Luna. Just… be careful of men. 

After that, she took up a job as a waitress at The Golden Fork, a bustling restaurant known for its elegant charm and packed tables. It wasn’t easy work, but she didn’t complain. Instead, she gave her all, pouring her energy into making ends meet. She put me through school, sacrificing every ounce of her own dreams so I could have a chance at mine.  

But there were always questions,questions she avoided with a practiced smile. Whenever I asked about my father, her answer was the same: “When the time is right, I’ll tell you everything.”*  

And now, here I was, with her words from earlier today echoing in my mind. I’m not your real mother.”

Why now? Why today? My birthday was supposed to be a day of celebration, not revelations that made my world tilt off its axis. I kept wondering: Why did she hide so much? And what else was she keeping from me?  

The questions weighed heavy on my chest, a suffocating pressure that made it hard to breathe. The familiar sound of my phone buzzing pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. I glanced at the screen, it was Mom

Her name stared back at me, My fingers hovered over the screen, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Was I angry? Hurt? Confused? I didn’t even know.  

The call ended, but within seconds, it buzzed again. And again. I shoved it into my pocket, but the weight of her persistence lingered.  

Waving down a cab, I got in and gave the driver the address to the club. The city’s nightlife began to unfold around me as the cab sped down busy streets, the neon lights casting their glow on sidewalks crowded with people. The hum of life outside contrasted sharply with the chaos in my mind.  

I stared out the window, the muffled sounds of honking horns blending into the buzz of my thoughts. Should I call her back? Could I face her right now, knowing there was more to this story than I was ready to hear?  

Just as I leaned back into the seat, the soft ping of a notification broke through the silence. A text.  

"Luna, I know you’re upset. Please come home after work. There’s more I need to tell you. Don’t shut me out. I love you."

Her words cut through me, soft yet piercing. I closed my eyes, letting the ache wash over me. She had always been my everything, and now the foundation of my life felt cracked and unstable.  

I slipped the phone back into my bag without replying. I wasn’t ready,not yet. I needed time to process everything, to find a way to face the truth that was unraveling before me.  

As the cab pulled up to the club, I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the chaos of the night. I wasn’t sure how I’d get through it, but one thing was certain,this wasn’t over. It was just beginning.  

The bright neon lights of Club Euphoria flashed vividly as I walked through the entrance, the heavy bass of the music pounding against my chest. The club was alive, a chaotic blend of laughter, chatter, and beats that seemed to reverberate in the very air. 

The space was massive, with multicolored lights flickering across walls adorned with reflective glass. Strippers moved gracefully on elevated platforms, their bodies glistening under the spotlights as they performed for an eager crowd.  

The club catered to everyone from the wild party goers at the main bar to the elite few tucked away in their exclusive section, where luxury was on full display. 

The VIP Lounge, as we called it, was a place reserved for the wealthy, the powerful, and the untouchable. It was where deals were made, secrets exchanged, and money flowed like water.  

I made my way through the throng of customers, heading straight for the staff room. The smell of perfume, alcohol, and sweat mixed in the air as I slipped behind the counter and through the door labeled * Staff Only. Once inside, the noise dulled to a hum, giving me a moment to catch my breath.  

The staff room was small but functional. I grabbed my uniform, a sleek black dress that clung to my body, paired with matching heels and quickly changed. 

A glance in the mirror showed me my flushed cheeks and tired eyes, but I shook off the exhaustion. Tonight was going to be a long one.  

When I stepped out, the club seemed even busier. Mrs. Parker, the club manager, waved me over. Her sharp eyes scanned the room, her expression as stern as ever.  

“Luna, you’re on the VIP floor tonight,” she said briskly, not bothering to sugarcoat it.  

The VIP Lounge. Great. It wasn’t my first time working there, but it always felt like walking on a tightrope. The guests there were… different. They were powerful, wealthy, and used to getting exactly what they wanted.  

I took my tray and headed to the exclusive section. The lighting here was dimmer, softer, casting an almost dreamlike glow over the room. Plush leather seats, sparkling chandeliers, and private booths lined the area. It was a world away from the chaos of the main floor.  

As I was setting down drinks for one of the tables, my eyes were drawn to the entrance. A man walked in, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. He didn’t just walk; he strode with the confidence of someone who owned the very ground beneath his feet.  

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a sharp, tailored black suit that seemed to mold perfectly to his muscular frame,and chiseled jawline. His dark hair was swept back neatly Even in the dim lighting, I could see his piercing gaze,a cold, calculated intensity . He exuded power, the kind that made people move out of his way without him having to say a word.  

Behind him was another man, his bodyguard by the looks of it. The guard was equally intimidating,built like a wall, with a face that seemed carved out of stone. He scanned the room like a hawk, his expression unreadable as he followed closely behind.  

Mrs. Parker, ever the opportunist, rushed to meet him. She greeted him with a nervous smile and a slight bow. Without hesitation, she led him toward one of the private rooms at the back of the lounge. The bodyguard stood outside the door, crossing his arms in a silent declaration that no one would enter uninvited.  

I tried not to stare, but my eyes betrayed me. Who was this man? He didn’t look like someone who belonged here, not in a place like this, surrounded by noise and indulgence. He looked like he belonged in a boardroom or ruling a kingdom, not watching dancers under flickering lights.  

Mrs. Parker returned moments later, her expression tense. She pulled me aside, her voice low and urgent.  

“Luna, I need you to go in there and serve him. Her tone turned stern. “Do whatever he asks. Don’t ruin this.”  

Mrs. Parker didn’t usually assign me to the most important clients unless she trusted me, but this… this felt different.  

I nodded reluctantly, grabbing a bottle of the club’s finest wine and a crystal glass. My palms were sweaty as I approached the bodyguard. He stared down at me, his gaze as intimidating as his size.  

“You’re not to look at his face,” he said, his voice deep and commanding. “Keep your head down.”  

I swallowed hard and nodded. He opened the door, and I stepped inside.  

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of red and gold lights casting shadows on the walls. A plush leather couch dominated the center, and there he was,sitting like a king on his throne.

 His legs were crossed, his posture relaxed but exuding authority. Around him three strippers swayed on poles,they moved like living sirens, in their red stripper lingerie, and high hills,movements slow and hypnotic, their bodies swaying seductively, their breast, glutes and quads,on full display, their dazzling eyes fixed on their prey,as they bite their lower lips,in seduction and desperation, these were professionals, their eyes flickering toward him for any sign of approval.  

I approached the small table beside him, my hands trembling slightly as I set down the tray. Pouring the wine into the glass, I kept my gaze fixed downward, acutely aware of his presence. 

He sat unmoved, his powerful frame leaned back against the couch with an air of unshakable control. His gaze was on the strippers, but it wasn’t the lustful hunger I’d seen countless times in other men. It was detached, almost cold, as if he were studying them rather than indulging in their seduction.

 Unlike the usual patrons in the Lounge who eagerly pulled strippers onto their laps or lost themselves in the tease of the moment, Romano exuded a calm dominance that set him apart. It was unsettlingly strange, as if he were above the temptations that consumed everyone else.

The air felt thick, heavy with his unspoken power. As I straightened up, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at him.  

What I saw made my heart skip a beat. Under the dim light, his face was partially obscured, but what I could see was perfection, sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and eyes that burned with an intensity. He was beautiful, in a dangerous, almost untouchable way.  

Just then he reached for the glass of wine, swirling it with grace that seemed almost rehearsed. He sniffed it lightly, as though appeasing it's worth,then took a deliberate sip. The movement was so poised,so captivating. I couldn't take my eyes off him.Look at the way he handles a glass of wine.

As i stood there trying to blend into the background,Mrs parker in with her signature wide smile, “so tell me sir'’ she said standing across from him,her voice dripping with charm,did mrs parker just call him sir, I've never heard her call anyone that,this man must really be powerful, “which of these roses catches your fancy?” She gestured towards the strippers, they all stood waiting for his approval.

He swirled the wine once more, his gaze briefly flickering over the women. Then in a deep voice and gravely, almost a growl he said,i do not want the woman standing in front of me,but the one standing beside me.’’