Chapter Three

Mirabella's pov

Seven days... A whole week has passed since I spent what seemed to be the whole night at the makeshift hospital ward without knowing what happened.

I was led into my haunting room by the two men who had dragged me out of there to the makeshift hospital in silence, ignoring my questions about what had happened. I was too weak to push for answers; I was still groggy from sleep.

All I knew was that I had been operated on—the stitches on my stomach were proof of that. I could only hope whatever they did wouldn’t have lasting effects on my health.

The HR manager hadn’t visited me since, until today.

"I believe you are ready to put what you have learnt into practice," she said, her tone cold. "Get ready for tonight. What you do and how well you impress will determine whether you get out of this beautiful hell." She scoffed, wished me luck, and left me alone with my thoughts, wondering what the night would bring.

As dusk fell, three women entered the room. They helped me into a warm bath, dressed me in a stunning red gown, adorned me with necklaces, and applied makeup that transformed my face. I barely recognised myself in the mirror—I looked beautiful, more beautiful than I ever thought possible.

My curiosity was piqued when one of them said as they left the room, "Did you see the smile on her face? I bet she thought she would be granted freedom after tonight, just like everybody was."

"She has no idea her nightmare is just beginning," another person sneered as their mocking laughter echoed down the hallway.

"What do they mean by that?" I wondered, a sense of dread creeping in.

But I pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the night ahead, determined to find out what all the preparation was leading to.

A few minutes later, the same two men, who seemed to be my constant escorts, led me out of the room. I silently hoped I’d never have to return.

As we neared a door, the pulsing beat of music grew louder, confirming what I already suspected—my destination was the infamous Aphrodite Club.

The men guided me through the crowd, weaving through clubgoers lost in the rhythm of the music. We made our way to the VIP section upstairs, where the atmosphere was slightly more subdued but still buzzing with energy.

Waiting for me were the HR manager, a young man seated beside her, and an overweight man lounging in a chair across from them.

"Here she is, ma'am." The men bowed slightly and left.

I stood there awkwardly as the HR manager got up and approached me.

"Mr. Levine..." She smiled, turning her gaze to the overweight man.

"Here is our latest product, Mirabella."

"How dare she refer to me as a product?!" I thought, anger bubbling inside me.

The man gave me a leering look, his eyes roaming from my head to my toes, and then he smacked his lips, making my skin crawl.

He grinned in a way that made my stomach turn. "She is quite a nice product. I am sure tonight will be memorable."

He shifted in his seat and motioned for me to join him, and though I hesitated, the HR manager insisted until I reluctantly sat beside him.

As soon as I did, he started asking personal questions—my name, my age. I answered in a low, flat voice, not wanting to engage.

Meanwhile, I noticed the HR manager, who I learnt was named Helen from her conversation with the man beside her, was trying to get his attention. The man, Caesar, did not seem interested in her at all.

What caught my attention was the way Mr. Levine treated Caesar with such respect, even though Mr. Levine was clearly older. Everyone who passed by also greeted Caesar with a level of reverence that made me realise he was someone important, someone with influence. It made me wonder who exactly he was.

"Have you done it before?" Mr. Levine asked me, grinning.

"What?" I arched my brows in confusion.

"Have you had sex before?"

My eyes widened in shock because I never thought that was what he meant.

I shook my head. "No...no, I haven't."

Laughing hysterically, he asked Helen for confirmation of who did.

"It is why I specifically kept her for you because I know she is your preference," she replied, smiling.

That was when it hit me—I was about to lose my virginity to a man I had just met, whose presence revolted me.

I felt an overwhelming urge to run because this was the exact opposite of what I had planned. I wanted to save my first time for someone who truly mattered to me, but that clearly was not going to happen now.

"You have really impressed me tonight," Mr. Levine's voice jolted me from my thoughts. "Don’t worry, I will give you a generous tip for this."

"Let’s go," he said, rising and grabbing my hand like I was a child, pulling me to my feet.

I thought of ways to escape, but nothing seemed possible. The horrible realisation set in—I was about to experience the very thing I had been forced to watch in those haunting videos for weeks.

Just as we were about to leave, Helen stopped us, stepping forward and asking us to wait.

"Don't forget; your freedom depends on your productivity tonight. It's all in your hands," she whispered in my ear.

And with a smile, she returned to her seat.

“You should take action and don’t go easy on him, sir. Show him exactly who you are and why no one dares to cross you,” Mr. Levine said to Caesar, leaving me bewildered about what he meant and who he was referring to.

After bidding Caesar goodnight, Mr. Levine took my hand and led me away.

As we walked down a corridor that seemed to be getting emptier, I briefly thought about making a run for it, convinced we were heading to Mr. Levine’s home.

To my shock, he led me through a hallway with doors on either side and opened one. The scene unfolded so quickly that before I could react, I was pushed onto the bed, sprawling flat.

He moved over me like a predator. His hands crawled up my thighs as his body followed suit.

Despite the strange sensation, I was overwhelmed by revulsion. I could not stand the thought of my body being used for this man’s pleasure.

Desperation hit me. I realised the only way out was to escape and run from the nightmare my father had thrust upon me.

Summoning every ounce of strength and determination, I suddenly drove my knee into his groin. He collapsed onto the other side of the bed, groaning and clutching his injured area.

I wasted no time. I sprang up, flung open the door, and fled down the corridor.

My heart raced as I burst through the exit, my mind set on leaving the club and this life behind. With every step, my resolve grew stronger—I knew my survival depended on making it out of there and never looking back.

But as I did, a troubled realisation settled over me: I had no plan, no allies, and nowhere to turn. The life I was fleeing away from was still deeply connected to everything I knew, and I had a feeling the fallout from my escape was far from over.

Hence, the uncertainty grew. Was there anyone I could trust? And what new dangers awaited me in the world beyond the club’s glittering facade?