FROM THE ROCK BOTTOM TO THE HIGH SOCIETY

The location was a Large Mansion, Valerie stopped at the entrance taking a deep breath before stepping inside. 

She looked around with awe before meeting the gaze of a man wearing an expensive robe. 

"Excuse me," She bowed. 

The man’s voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence of the darkened room. “So, this is how low they’ve stooped. You’re the ‘comfort’ they sent me? The call girl?” 

Valerie froze. The accusation hit her like a slap. “Call... girl?” she whispered, her voice cracking. Tears blurred her vision. “I’m not—” She hesitated, her voice trembling. “Are you... dying?” 

He exhaled slowly, his tone cold and detached. “Yes. You don’t seem like someone who took this job willingly. Regrets?” 

Valerie clenched her fists. “No,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn’t afford regret—not when her mother’s life was on the line. Yet something about him didn’t fit the image of a dying man. His voice held strength, and his presence felt imposing, almost predatory. 

As the hours passed, the man fell asleep, his grip on her loosening. Valerie slipped from his grasp, heart pounding, and fled into the rain-soaked night. 

By the time she reached the Hathaway Residence, it was nearly midnight. Exhausted and drenched, she banged on the massive doors. “Let me in! I did what you asked—please! I need the money for my mother!” 

The door creaked open just enough for someone to toss a framed photo at her feet. Rain splashed against the glass, revealing her mother’s face. 

“She’s dead. The money doesn’t matter anymore,” a cold voice said before the door slammed shut. 

Valerie stared at the photo, disbelief washing over her. Her knees buckled as she collapsed into the mud, clutching the frame. “No... Mother!” she screamed, her voice breaking. The rain drowned her sobs as she pounded on the door again. 

“You lied!” she yelled, her voice raw. “You promised to save her! I’ll make you pay for this!” 

Her cries faded into the storm. Exhausted, she collapsed, her body giving out under the weight of grief and despair. 

When she woke, three days had passed. Feverish and weak, she found herself back in the prison infirmary. She was moved to her cell, where whispers and jeers greeted her. 

“She’s back already?” one inmate sneered. 

“Guess she wasn’t enough to keep them happy,” another muttered. 

The gang leader approached, smirking. “Poor little Valerie. Got bailed out just to come crawling back. Let’s see what you’re good for here.” 

Before the leader could grab her, a sharp voice interrupted. “That’s enough!” 

A correctional officer stepped forward, glaring at the group. “036, step forward!” 

Valerie obeyed, her voice flat. “What now?” 

“You’ve been acquitted,” the officer said briskly. 

Valerie blinked, stunned. “What?” 

Moments later, she was standing outside the prison gates, confusion swirling as freedom sank in. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, “Mother, I couldn’t save you. But I’ll find you. I’ll make them pay for this.” 

A sleek black car pulled up. A man in a sharp suit stepped out, his tone curt. “Miss Bridge, come with me.” 

Before she could respond, he opened the door, revealing a shadowed figure inside. “Young Master Victor is waiting.” 

Inside, the man’s cold gaze pinned her. “You’re mine now, Valerie,” he said with finality. “I don’t leave debts unpaid.” 

Valerie was found herself lost for words. 

Victor didn’t glance at Valerie. “You heard me,” he said coldly. 

Valerie fidgeted with the hem of her tattered clothes. “This isn’t funny,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. 

Victor scoffed, his tone sharp. “Didn’t you plan to marry me all along?” 

Valerie’s eyes widened, but she quickly averted her gaze. Victor grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his cold, piercing stare. His features were striking—sharp jawline, rugged stubble, and eyes that seemed to see straight through her. 

Valerie couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between him and herself—his tailored suit screamed wealth and power, while she looked like a vagrant, covered in dirt and wearing clothes that reeked of neglect. 

She lowered her eyes and muttered, “Do you think I’d marry a stranger, even if he were the last man on Earth?” 

Victor’s expression hardened. “Trying to provoke me?” He leaned back, signaling to the driver. “To the city hall.” 

Panic surged through Valerie. She grabbed for the door handle, desperate to escape. “Let me out! I don’t even know you!” 

Victor moved swiftly, pinning her to the seat. His voice was icy. “If you step out of this car, you won’t live to see another day.” 

Tears filled Valerie’s eyes. “I don’t want to die.” 

Victor barked to the driver, “City hall.” 

His assistant hesitated, glancing at Valerie. “Young Master, her appearance...” 

Victor’s gaze shifted to her, finally noticing her disheveled state. “To the Regal Residence first,” he ordered. 

An hour later, the car stopped in front of an opulent mansion. Valerie stared in disbelief at the grandeur before her. This was nothing like the squalor she’d endured. Victor grabbed her wrist, dragging her inside. 

The maids bowed as Victor strode through the halls. “Prepare a bath and clean clothes for her,” he commanded, handing Valerie over. 

As the maids guided her to a bathroom, Valerie’s mind raced with thoughts of escape. Once inside, the maids began removing her clothes, exposing bruises and marks. 

One of them murmured, “Are those love bites?” 

Snapping back to reality, Valerie pulled away. “I’ll bathe myself,” she said firmly. 

The maids hesitated, exchanging skeptical glances. “You’re Young Master Victor’s...?” 

“Nothing,” Valerie interrupted. “I’m just his maid.” 

Outside, one of the maids scoffed, “She acts like she’s better than us. She’s just another loose woman.” 

Their chatter stopped abruptly as Victor appeared. His icy glare silenced them, and they quickly dispersed. 

Inside, Valerie stared at her reflection, her face burning with shame. She thought about how her life had spiraled out of control, how she’d ended up in this nightmare. Tears streamed down her cheeks. 

The door creaked open behind her. “Still filthy,” Victor’s voice cut through the silence.