5

Amelia’s POV

“Your boss did what?” Tasha half-yelled, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“You heard right, he gave me a death sentence,” I replied with an eye roll, trying to mask how heavy the whole situation actually felt.

“Amy, you can’t tail Kai. I haven’t met him or even seen him, but that guy has a terrible reputation. He’s not someone you mess with,” Tasha said, her voice edged with urgency. She was trying to convince me, but I was already resigned.

“I don’t have a choice, Tasha. If I don’t do this, he’ll fire me. I can’t lose three jobs in a row,” I said, heading toward my wardrobe, avoiding her eyes.

“He’ll kill you just like he killed Suzan!” Tasha practically shouted.

“What do you want me to do, Tasha? Lose another job and keep living in your apartment, eating your food like you’re my mom?” I shot back, my frustration bubbling over. I hated feeling like a burden, and even though Tasha had never said a word, I still felt like a burden.

“I’ve never complained about you staying here, Amy. I’m fine with it—stay as long as you want. You’re the one overthinking everything. No job is worth losing your life over,” Tasha pleaded, her eyes softening. But I just chuckled.

“Like I’m living a good life?” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all.

“You need to quit that dead-end job,” Tasha insisted, but I barely registered her words. I was too busy trying on lingerie for tonight’s performance.

“This red one looks good, doesn’t it?” I asked, checking myself out in the mirror, running my hands down my hips. The satin clung to my curves, and for a second, I let myself forget everything.

“Amelia, can you be serious for once?” Tasha groaned, exasperated. I started to twerk, my reflection in the mirror giving me an almost ridiculous sense of control.

Tasha buried her head in her hands, clearly annoyed. When I realized she wasn’t in the mood, I sighed and plopped onto the bed beside her.

“I know my life is one bad news after another, but I’ve got some good news. I’m performing at Stardust Lounge tonight!” I announced, trying to inject some excitement into the room.

Tasha’s head shot up, her face stunned. “Girl, are you serious?”

I nodded, handing her the golden invitation. “Got the official invite from my manager yesterday.”

She snatched the card, reading it quickly, and a smile spread across her face. “Oh my God! This is amazing!”

“I know, right? I’ve been waiting for this opportunity forever.” Stardust Lounge wasn’t your run-of-the-mill nightclub. It was exclusive, a place where only the elite of the elite gathered—celebrities, wealthy businessmen, and influencers. And now, I was about to perform there. It was the kind of gig that could change everything, money-wise at least.

“This is huge, Amy, but...you should still be careful. You’ve got stalkers around,” Tasha reminded, her excitement fading into concern.

“Here we go again,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Can we not ruin this moment?”

“Just saying! I’ll help you pick something better. That lingerie’s way too simple for an exclusive show,” she said, getting up to rummage through my wardrobe.

Later that night, Tasha dropped me off at Stardust Lounge. She couldn’t park in the lot, so we stopped in front of the massive gates.

“Just in case you meet Calvin Harris, tell him you’ve got a pretty friend who’s very single,” Tasha winked as I stepped out.

“Alright, I will,” I laughed. Tasha’s crush on Calvin Harris was legendary. She practically worshipped the guy.

Walking into the building, I couldn’t shake my nerves. The place was massive, all velvet ropes, and pristine marble floors. Security was tight, and I had to stop at every checkpoint to show my invitation. Finally, after what felt like forever, I made it backstage.

A group of women were already there, waiting for something—or someone. Ring lights were set up, makeup boxes open, brushes and palettes strewn everywhere. When I walked in, all eyes fell on me.

“Hi… I’m one of the performers,” I said nervously, forcing a smile as I handed over my invitation. The name Jolie was printed on it in golden letters.

“Welcome, Jolie. It’s a pleasure to have you here tonight. I’ve heard so much about you,” one of the women said, smiling warmly. “And I must say, you look stunning.”

I tried to smile back, but it felt off. I don’t even know why i was feeling uncomfortable, there was something about this club that felt off, but i can’t pinpoint it.

Sitting on the chair, I let the makeup artists do their thing, layering product after product on my face. By the time they were done, I barely recognized myself in the mirror. With the makeup, I looked like a different person altogether.

I picked up my mask and lingerie, ready to slip into the changing room when one of the women stopped me.

“Don’t tell me you’ll be putting on a mask again,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh… yeah. I always do,” I answered.

“You don’t need to cover your face tonight. All the audience members here are wealthy men, not regular people who’d want to expose you,” she said, trying to persuade me.

But I wasn’t buying it.

“I’ll stick to using my mask, thank you,” I said with a polite smile, then turned and headed toward the changing room. Once I had the privacy I needed, I quickly slipped into my outfit for the night—a sleek red number that clung to all the right places. I threw on a thick, short robe over it and, with two hours to spare before I was called on stage, decided to grab a drink and something to eat.

Still wearing my masquerade eye mask, I picked up my tiny purse and wandered over to a small pub near the parking lot. It was one of those places that looked both exclusive and expensive. I didn’t care about the stares; like the makeup artist said, the guests here were all celebrities or people too rich to give a damn about me.

The pub was packed, as expected. But my jaw dropped when I saw the menu. Everything was outrageously priced—$69.90 for a cocktail? I barely managed to hide my shock as I walked up to the bar.

“Hi, what kind of cocktail costs $69.90?” I asked the bartender, raising an eyebrow.

“mojito, ma’am,” she answered with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Right... can I get a $10 regular cocktail?” I tried, though I already knew what the answer would be. The bartender just smiled.

“Sorry ma’am, but we don’t sell cocktails below $50, but you can get sodas instead, they’re below $10” she explained.

“Great, just... get me the cheapest thing on your menu,” I sighed, feeling my wallet tighten. She handed me a bottle of soda. It was $5, but even that felt ridiculous for soda. I took it and left after paying, trying to ignore the feeling that everyone in the pub was watching me.

As I walked out, I could practically feel the eyes on me, crawling over my skin. “If stares could kill, I’d be six feet under by now,” I muttered under my breath, trying to keep my head up. The tension of those gazes made it hard to focus, and before I knew it, I bumped right into someone.

My soda spilled onto the man’s black suit.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I gasped, fumbling for the fabric of my robe to clean the mess. But before I could, the woman standing next to him grabbed my hand.

“I’ll take care of it,” she said coldly, snatching the cloth from me and tossing it in the trash. Her grip was firm, and her expression unreadable, but the man was worse. He just stared at me—hard. His face was perfect, almost too perfect, like a sculpture carved from marble, but there was something terrifying in his silence.

“I’m really sorry,” I repeated, but he didn’t say a word. His eyes stayed locked on me, unblinking, and for a moment, I thought I’d seen him before. His face was so familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

The woman beside him leaned in and whispered. “if i were you, i’d leave immediately,” she warned. I didn’t need to be told twice. I took off quickly with one last bow. Jezz, what’s up with him? The least he could do is accept my apology.

*******************

My performance was over, and I was out wandering the garden in Stardust Lounge. Dressed down in a pair of sweatpants and a black sleeveless top, my hair tied up in a messy bun, I was finally able to breathe. The performance had gone well—better than expected, honestly. The crowd had been generous, showering me with tips, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I’d actually accomplished something.

As I strolled through the garden, I took random pictures with my phone, admiring how beautiful everything looked. My finger hovered over Tasha’s contact, and as soon as I dialed, she picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, how did it go?” she asked eagerly.

“Girl, you wouldn’t believe who I saw while performing,” I gushed, feeling the rush of excitement all over again.

“Calvin Harris?” Tasha’s voice shot up, already jumping to conclusions.

“No, but there were so many celebrities I almost lost focus and tripped! Good thing I’m a professional,” I said with an exaggerated eye roll, even though she couldn’t see me.

I was still on the phone when I spotted two men dressed in black. The sight of them sent a chill down my spine—they looked like the ones who’d tried to kill me before. Panic flared up in my chest. I didn’t need to think twice before I turned around and bolted.

I hadn’t gotten far when an arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me back. I opened my mouth to scream, but before I could, one of the men grabbed an empty bottle from the ground and smashed it over my head. I felt my body give in, and everything went black.

“Amy? Amy, are you there?” I could hear Tasha’s worried voice faintly through the phone, but one of the men stomped on it, silencing her voice. I tried to resist but my entire body was just too weak, and then i blacked out.