Her Price, His Obssession

"Sir, you'll be paying extra for cumming in my mouth. You don't get the normal price. I didn't fucking ask you to unload there," Bella said coldly.

"Whether you have the extra money or not is your problem, not mine. It's either that…or I break your head into tiny pieces."

She knew how pathetic it sounded. She knew how low this was. But she was already at the edge, with bills due by morning and no other option in sight.

The drunk man staggered as he zipped up his pants, his eyes roaming over her with lazy lust. He reached out and spanked her ass.

"So you won't let me fuck your fat ass, huh?" he slurred.

Bella slapped him hard, disgust curling in her stomach at how low she'd sunk to deal with men like him.

"You should be grateful I didn't spit your sour sperm on your face or bite off that useless little cock," she snapped. "A tool that can't even satisfy my ass. Don't piss me off, fool. Give me forty dollars."

He rubbed his cheek and smirked. "Cheap slut."

Bella rolled her eyes. She was immune to insults…she'd heard them all. She held out her hand as the man counted a few bills and dropped them into her palm.

She glared at him, wet her finger with her tongue, and counted again.

"What's this?" she snapped. "There's only thirty dollars here."

"I'll give you forty," he said, smirking, "if you let me fuck you."

Bella clenched her fist in anger. She dropped the money onto the table and grabbed the man by the collar, her palms folding as she raised her hand, ready to punch the life out of him.

The door swung open suddenly

"You slut!" a woman screamed. "What are you doing with my husband?"

She rushed toward Bella, who ducked and snatched the money. Some of it spilled to the floor as she bolted for the door, running into the night and glancing back every few steps to make sure the woman wasn't following.

This was her daily routine in this trashy neighborhood.

Since she turned eighteen, Bella had been surviving by selling her body. Now, at twenty-three, she was still at it…hell, she had lost count of how many cocks she'd serviced: big, small, medium, wrinkled, veiny, fat, long.

She took another turn, heading toward her shabby apartment, if it could even be called that and not a dump instead.

She opened the stupid lock easily, and walked in , sighing at the state of the whole place.

Peeling paint flaked from the walls. There was no electricity…just a short, almost finished candle she lit whenever she returned. An old bedsheet lay on the floor, serving as a bed. A single-burner stove sat crookedly in the corner and cheap grocery bags crowded what passed for a counter. The lock on the door was unreliable, though it hardly mattered; there was nothing of value to steal anyway.

Bella sank onto the patched-up bedsheet, counting the day's earnings.

"Thirty-five dollars total?" she groaned in frustration.

"If I add it to what I already have, it should at least cover the train to Manhattan… rent, and a meal."

She smiled a bit in anticipation for her new job.

"It would help me earn more… and I would even cut back on selling my body."

She slapped her arm to scratch at the mosquito bites and wrapped the thin blanket around herself, closing her eyes.

Somehow, tomorrow had to be better.

That same night, at an orphanage across the city, where the wealthy often gathered for public charity.

Lucian stood before the press, cameras flashing repeatedly.

"Sir, you did an amazing job," a reporter said. "The children loved the gifts. We hope to see more initiatives like this."

Lucian smiled, practiced and effortlessly.

"It's an honor to be here," he said smoothly. "I, too, have a daughter, and I love her. How could I not love our hopes for the future?"

Murmurs of approval spread through the crowd.

"I also want to extend my deepest gratitude to the mothers," he continued, voice warm, measured. "The women who work tirelessly to raise these children."

He nodded gently as the nanny stepped onto the stage, carrying his daughter.

Applause erupted. Cameras clicked faster. Flashes lit the room as Lucian accepted the child into his arms, holding her just long enough for the photographs.

Soon after, the conference ended, guests dispersed into the night, satisfied.

The hall emptied, one by one, until the lights dimmed and the doors closed.

And Lucian went home.

(RODRIGUEZ MANSION)

The man the public admired did not exist inside his home.

He sat on his chair in the living room, his brow tightening with exhaustion as the little one he considered a torment filled the room with relentless wailing.

The baby's cry shredded the quiet of the mansion, each wail proceeded to get louder each time she opened her mouth.

Lucian pinched the bridge of his nose, his stare hard as it settled on the four-month-old.

Children were liabilities…always had been. Yet somehow, this one managed to creep into his life.

He had never wanted a child. The woman who had given birth to her was long gone…a useless prostitute who had died during delivery.

The child had been dropped at his door by his Personal Assistant, DNA-confirmed as his. If she had not been his child, he would have disposed of her long ago. And he hated the idea of his blood living in an orphanage.

He looked at the child again, losing control.

"Take that insect out of my sight!" he barked at the nanny who flinched at the tone.

She was new, she didn't know this was how the 'high paying work' with a non disclosure contract would be, and it was already getting unbearable on her very first day.

"But, Sir… she… she's very difficult to handle. She needs her mother or at least carry her, since she is your child…" the second nanny of the year stammered.

"I pay you well for this. Would you rather die instead? and never tell me what i should do, i am only letting it slide because the girl will cry to death if i fired you this instant" His voice was cold, sharp, and filled with fury.

Fear struck the nanny instantly. She scrambled to quiet the crying girl, hurrying her out of the room.

Lucian's dark eyes followed them with simmering anger.

His phone rang, cutting through his rage.

He picked it up, already knowing the news waiting on the other end.

"Sir, the owner of Neurons Pharmaceutical has signed over the company to us. Congratulations," the voice on the line announced.

Lucian ended the call, his dark eyes staring into nothing as a wicked smirk curved his lips.

This was who he was…he took over any company he wanted. Profit was all that mattered; everything else, including people, were disposable.