That was when I scrolled past some gossip from the underground world.

"New Don Spotted Kissing Girlfriend at Nightclub Kiss—Marriage Rumors Explode."

Envy ran through the comment section. People claimed this real-life drama outshone any movie.

Michele's success in both love and business should have comforted me. Instead, my eyes burned with a sharp sting. Just then, my phone rang.

"Ms. Rossitto? This is Barbara. Michele regrets it. He wants the 50 thousand dollars returned. If you refuse, he will sue you for extortion. The family's legal team isn't something you can afford to provoke. I am sorry, Ms. Rossitto. I tried to speak up for you, but Michele truly despises you now."

I gave a bitter smile, said nothing, and ended the call.

After standing there for a while, I dug a crumpled business card out of the trash and dialed the number. "Mr. Frattini? I agree to work at Club Luna."

I used to have my limits. I would rather wash dishes than step into a nightclub soaked in lust and neon.

Now that Michele hated me so deeply, he would probably take some satisfaction in knowing I was serving drinks in a nightclub for a measly sum.

With my battered body, it was the fastest way to earn money. If making a living meant staying alive, who would willingly wait to be torn apart piece by piece?

That night, I arrived at Club Luna. I endured the discomfort as I changed into the revealing uniform.

Balancing a tray in my hands, I pushed open the door to the assigned private room. Then I saw Michele, seated in the place of honor.

He wore a perfectly tailored black shirt, holding a costly cigar between his fingers. With his collar undone, the tattoo shimmered faintly in the shadows.

Barbara was draped in designer brands and glittering jewels from head to toe. A sparkling new diamond necklace rested at her throat.

Beyond the old tattoo, Michele's body showed no trace of her.

I stole a quick glance. Then, I lowered my eyes, set down the tray, and turned to leave.

In the noisy private room, Michele was too busy feeding Barbara fruit to notice me. Barbara, however, noticed me immediately. "Wait. Open the wine first."

I had no choice but to step closer and grab the corkscrew. It was my first day, and I was clumsy. I tried several times, but each attempt failed. Michele's gaze swept over me, and he frowned.

My hands trembled, and I applied too much force. The cork flew straight into Barbara.

She screamed and slapped me, sending me crashing to the floor.

"Do you even know how to do anything properly? This dress is custom-made. Even if I sold you, it wouldn't cover the cost!"

Furious, she grabbed the bottle and swung it toward me. I instinctively curled up to protect my head, but the pain never came.

When I opened my eyes, Michele had caught her wrist.

He took the bottle from her hand, looking at her with indulgence. "It's not worth getting angry over trash like this. It's just a dress. Tomorrow, I'll buy the entire brand and give it to you."

He looked down at me, and I trembled from head to toe. His eyes flickered with something unreadable before a mocking smile spread across his face.

"Are you mute?" he asked. "Don't you know how to talk? These people are all my friends, and each of them is wealthy. If you stay silent, how do you expect to tempt them into tipping you?"

Barbara immediately ripped off my mask and laughed. "Ms. Rossitto? How did you end up here? I've always been grateful to you. If you hadn't given up Michele, I'd never have met him. If you're struggling, you should have asked me for help instead of putting yourself out here."

The private room fell silent for a moment, then erupted into laughter and whistles.

"After Michele went under, I heard she hooked up with some rich nobody. Well, at least she's got something to offer."

"Why don't you stick with me from now on, sweetheart? I can offer you what Michele failed to give you five years ago."

"Nice body. Shame it's been used. I'll give you five thousand dollars a week. Does that sound good?"

Laughter filled the room as their hostile gazes roamed over me. I couldn't tell who reached for me first, but soon more hands were groping at my legs.

"Don't touch me!" I cried, trying to pull away. The tear in my abdomen burned through me, making it impossible to get away from their hands.

A flash of derision crossed Michele's eyes. "Alma, what are you playing at? Are you dodging this slowly just to play hard to get?"

At his words, the hands groping me came to a halt.

He shot me a piercing look. "Are you really trying to make some quick money? Out of respect for what we had, I'll let you," he said, unconsciously tracing the skin beneath his tattoo.

He patted a bald, overweight man on the shoulder. "Antonio, you helped me when I was at my lowest. Today, I'll give you a gift."

With that, he tossed a stack of bills at my feet. The edges scraped across my skin, leaving faint cuts.

"If you keep Mr. Esposito satisfied tonight, Alma, all of this belongs to you," he said with a sneer.

Laughter and cheers filled the room as everyone applauded Michele for being generous enough to introduce his ex to Antonio.

I knew Antonio Esposito. He was an infamous sadist and always came up with fresh ways to torture his victims.

I looked straight at Michele. "If I take care of him, does that mean I don't owe you the 50 thousand dollars?"

His eyes flared with anger for a moment before he hissed, "You don't."

I forced a smile and stepped forward, looping my arms around Antonio's neck.

He eagerly grabbed my waist, reeking of alcohol. The stench made me gag, but I forced a smile through it.

"Mr. Esposito," I said sweetly. "Shall we move somewhere a little more private?"

"Of course, sweetheart! Call me Daddy, and I'll take care of you," he slurred, lifting me up and striding toward the door.

"Enough!" A crash sounded as Michele smashed a wine glass.

He stormed forward, yanking me out of Antonio's grasp.

"Alma, for money, you'd put up with this filth?" he roared, staring at me with bloodshot eyes.

I nodded. "Yes. For money, I can do anything."

Michele slammed me onto the couch with pure rage. "Fine! Then serve me, and I'll pay you!"

He grabbed me and kissed me savagely. I bit his tongue and forced him back. "Pay first, Michele. I don't come cheap. 500 thousand dollars for the night."

He froze. Finally, he believed I was a woman who would sell herself for money.

He flung me to the floor, growling, "Get out! You disgust me!"

Pain lanced through my abdomen as my wound tore open again.

I couldn't lift myself. The carpet was soaked in my blood. From my pocket, a donation receipt from five years ago slipped out, landing at Michele's feet.