It was past ten when the night finally came alive.

The Moonlight Club was, without a doubt, the most exclusive nightlife destination in the capital.

This was where the city's elite came to play.

The higher the floor, the more decadent the entertainment.

On the first level, sultry live vocals wove through the bass-heavy music and the shuffle of flirtatious footsteps-a chaotic symphony that, strangely, put Stella Dawson completely at ease.

She lounged in a plush booth, legs elegantly crossed, a neat glass of brandy in hand. Her little black dress was a stark contrast against her pale, luminous skin.

"Hey gorgeous, can I buy you a drink?" As expected, another admirer approached.

Stella didn't even bother speaking. She simply waved him away with a lazy, dismissive gesture.

She'd lost count of how many men she'd rejected tonight. None of them sparked her interest-just not her type.

Kevin Porter sat nearby, engrossed in a drinking game with one of the waitstaff, though he kept stealing glances in her direction.

"Still drawing a crowd, I see," he smirked. "No one caught your eye yet?"

"They're all a bit bland, don't you think?" Stella remarked coolly.

"Good thing I came prepared. I booked a private selection for your viewing pleasure," Kevin grinned.

He gestured, and a waiter promptly appeared. "Shall I bring them over now, sir?"

"Yes, let's start with five. Let Stella have a look," Kevin nodded with satisfaction.

"Right away."

The waiter hurried off, his footsteps fading into the thumping music.

Kevin turned back to Stella, who was taking a slow sip of her drink. He rubbed his hands together with a conspiratorial smile.

Just then, a deep voice carried from the entrance.

"Mr. Sterling, the private lounge is on the fourth floor. This way, please."

Alexander Sterling stood at the foot of the staircase, his expression unreadable. He gave a curt nod and made to ascend.

But something-a pull, an instinct-made him turn his head. And there she was.

A woman in a sleek black dress, lounging in a booth as if she owned the place. Even in the dim, hazy light, her features were sharp and striking; those long, slender legs were impossible to ignore. An aura of effortless confidence and raw sensuality radiated from her.

He froze, his gaze locked on her.

What was she doing here?

"Mr. Sterling, would you prefer to stay at the bar for a moment?" His assistant, Jack Holden, inquired cautiously beside him.

Alexander didn't respond. His attention remained fixed.

He shifted slightly, and that's when he saw them-a group of shirtless male models parading towards her booth, lining up for her inspection.

His body went rigid. "What is this?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

Jack followed his line of sight-and did a double-take when he recognized the woman in question.

"That appears to be. one of the club's premium services," Jack stammered.

A cheerful waiter piped up from behind them, "Exactly, sir! Our elite hosts are very popular! We have female companions as well, if you're interested?"

"That won't be necessary." Alexander's quiet snort was laced with disdain.

He quickened his pace, swiftly heading for the upper floors.

There was no way Stella would dare to order male escorts. Even with her occasional dramatics, she had always been so timid around him.

She was like a scared little kitten-obsessed with him to the point of blindness.

None of those pretty boys could possibly hold a candle to him anyway.

He must have mistaken someone else for her from that distance.

Jack trailed behind, watching his boss's cold, decisive figure disappear upstairs. He sighed inwardly.

Perhaps. just perhaps, Mr. Sterling should have looked a little closer.

Since the divorce, Stella wasn't just surviving-she was thriving. Confident. Liberated. Fiercely independent.

But Jack knew better than to voice his thoughts. After all, not long ago, she'd hacked into the company's internal system using Alexander's credentials and spammed the entire staff directory with. creative declarations praising his physique and undying devotion.

The incident had been deeply embarrassing for Mr. Sterling. The office tension was palpable for weeks.

If it hadn't been for that final straw, perhaps things between them wouldn't have ended so abruptly.

.

Meanwhile, Stella was critically appraising the lineup of men before her.

They were handsome, well-built, and their demure expressions added a certain charm.

A definite upgrade from the clueless amateurs who had been approaching her all night.

She narrowed her eyes, offering a calm, slightly distant smile. "So, how old are you all?"

"I'm eighteen."

"Me too. eighteen."

"Same!"

They answered in a rushed chorus, faces etched with anxiety.

Stella chuckled softly.

Really? With those faint crow's feet, they expected her to believe they were eighteen?

Of course they lied about their age-it was part of the game here. Youth sold.

Everyone knew it was a facade, but nobody wanted the harsh truth.

"I'm twenty-four," the last one said quietly.

His honesty made Stella raise a brow. She looked at him with renewed interest.

It was rare to find someone that straightforward here. She was intrigued. "Come here."

She crooked a finger, and he hurried over to sit beside her. The others looked visibly frustrated.

One of them stepped forward, putting on a pitiful pout. "What about me, sis? Am I not good enough?"

"Be serious," Stella said, leaning slightly towards the man now seated beside her. "Take a look in the mirror. Does that look like an eighteen-year-old face to you?"

The man's face fell instantly. He awkwardly retreated with the rest of the rejected group.

She turned her full attention to the man beside her, relaxing into the plush cushions.

He was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, clearly unsure of what to do next.

"You don't know how to pour a drink?" Kevin frowned. "Is this your first day?"

"I-I'm sorry." he mumbled, bowing his head slightly towards Kevin.

"What's your name?" Stella asked, her curiosity evident.

"Rex Turner," he replied, his nervousness palpable. "I've been here a month, ma'am."

"Let me pour you a drink." His fingers trembled slightly as he filled her glass. She gave a slow, approving nod, and he proceeded to down his own drink in one go.

"You're not bad on the eyes," Stella remarked after a sip, her gaze playful.

Rex's cheeks flushed. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You've worked here a month and never. entertained a client privately?"

Stella knew these "elite hosts" weren't just here for conversation and drink-pouring.

Sure, the base pay was decent, but the real money came from. extracurricular activities-arrangements that had nothing to do with the club itself.

"I don't do that sort of thing. I'm just a standard host," Rex explained awkwardly, waving his hands. "Ma'am, I."

Kevin burst out laughing, nearly toppling off the couch.

"You won't make a fortune with that attitude!" he teased. "Why not stick with our Stella here?"

"She's generous. What's one more admirer in her collection?"

"You're not her usual type, but who knows? You might grow on her."

Rex's face turned crimson, but he held his ground. "Really, I. I don't do that."

Stella looked at him, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She raised her glass and finished the contents.

"Alright then. Your loss," she said with a nod. He quickly refilled her glass.

The music shifted again, the beat dropping heavier, and the dance floor erupted into a frenzy of movement.

Bodies swayed and laughter rang out, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch.

She closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the vibrant, intoxicating atmosphere.

Then, abruptly, a heavy, meaty hand clamped down on her shoulder.

Stella flinched. Her brows furrowed as she slowly, deliberately, turned to look.

Her gaze traveled up to meet a greasy, rotund face, crowned by a balding head, the owner's thick fingers digging into her skin.

Stella Dawson nearly choked on her drink, her face contorting in revulsion as she forcefully shoved the greasy hand away.

But the balding, heavyset man wasn't deterred. His thick gold chain swung as he shamelessly tried to close the distance, crowding her space.

"Hey there, gorgeous, sitting all by yourself? How about we exchange numbers?"

He waved his phone in front of her, the QR code glaring brightly.

Just as that pudgy hand reached for her again, Kevin Porter shot up and stormed over, planting himself as a barrier. "Hey! Back off! Got no manners?"

"What's it to you? Mind your own business." The man gave Kevin a rough shove.

Stella rolled her eyes and pinned him with a death glare. "You're the one who needs to leave."

"Oho, feisty, are we?" He leered at her, his eyes dripping with sleazy appreciation.

A pretty face, a killer figure, a voice like honey-she was exactly his type. Even her sharp tongue just made her a spicier conquest in his eyes.

"C'mon, give us a kiss." He puckered his lips grotesquely and leaned in. "I love a girl with some fire."

She suppressed a wave of nausea, then brought her stiletto heel down hard on his shin.

At first, he seemed amused, thinking it was part of the game.

But the moment the pain registered, his legs buckled. He crumpled to the floor like a sack of potatoes, howling.

"Damn bitch!" He curled into a ball, face contorted in agony. "Ahhh, my leg!"

"Boss!" Several of his lackeys glowered at Stella, pure rage in their eyes. "You're gonna pay for that!"

One of them snatched a bottle from a nearby table and hurled it directly at her.

They'd just been shown up by a woman, and their pride couldn't take it.

Stella let out a derisive laugh, raised her leg again, and kicked the incoming thugs aside as if swatting away flies.

The men hit the ground, clutching their injuries and whimpering. Meanwhile, Stella calmly lifted her glass and gave it a little shake toward Rex Turner. "Don't let the trash kill the vibe. My glass is empty."

She was radiant, utterly unbothered. Rex's cheeks flushed as he scrambled for a bottle, pouring the clear liquid with slightly trembling hands.

"Mr. Sterling! Please, let me explain! It's a misunderstanding!"

A panicked voice echoed from the upper floor.

Alexander Sterling descended the stairs with thunderous steps, his face a mask of icy fury, completely ignoring the pleading man trailing behind him.

He looked ready to detonate.

Stella, mid-laugh with Rex, glanced up at the commotion-and her eyes collided with his glacial stare.

Her heart stuttered. Crap. What is HE doing here?!

"Kevin! Kevin!"

"What's up, Stella? Need a refill?"

"No, look! Up there! Tell me that's not Alexander."

Kevin followed her gaze and paled.

"Oh, shit. It is him." His hand gripped the back of the sofa for support.

Stella clenched her fists, momentarily speechless.

Up on the landing, Alexander's lips curved into a smile-cold and razor-sharp. Fire smoldered in his eyes.

Marvelous. This woman has some nerve.

The former Mrs. Sterling, cozying up with pretty boys in a dive bar?

Even if he despised her, even if they were legally divorced-witnessing this felt like a direct, public slap in the face.

He glared at her as if she had committed an unforgivable transgression.

Stella instinctively tried to make herself smaller as he began his approach. She quickly yanked Kevin closer.

Kevin, bewildered but compliant, leaned into the act.

By the time Alexander reached them, Stella had thrown an arm around each man-one around Kevin, the other around Rex.

What the hell?! How dare she flaunt this in front of him?!

Just because he'd ended it, she'd completely lost her mind?

Alexander glared, his jaw so tight it looked ready to crack. "What is the meaning of this?"

Her makeup was flawless-dramatic and sharp-and her short dress left little to the imagination, showcasing those long, slender legs.

Stella Dawson looked like she owned the place, dressed to seduce and seemingly here to curate her own personal harem.

"Isn't it obvious?" Stella said with feigned nonchalance, "I'm appreciating the local scenery."

Alexander Sterling's face darkened further. Jack Holden, standing behind him, stayed silent as a ghost.

The boss was clearly livid, probably unable to believe Ms. Dawson would go this far. Was she deliberately trying to provoke him?

Kevin Porter caught the vibe instantly. He gulped, then dramatically leaned into Stella with a pout. "Sis, are these the new recruits for tonight? You've already got me and Rex wrapped around your finger, and you're still shopping?"

"You're insatiable. One on each arm, and still your eyes wander? Gotta catch 'em all, is that it?"

Stella didn't need to say a word; her eyes gave the instruction. Kevin, a natural accomplice, played his part perfectly.

He gave her a look of mock heartbreak. She patted his head indulgently, clearly pleased-this was her wingman.

As for Alexander? He could choke on his outrage.

She swirled the wine glass lazily, took a delicate sip, and met Alexander's furious gaze head-on.

Tilting her chin defiantly, she tossed out, "Nah, he looks too high-maintenance. Probably costs a fortune. I'm fresh out of alimony."

"What? So we're not good enough for you now?" Kevin fake-sobbed into her shoulder.

Male escorts these days really committed to the bit, didn't they?

Jack Holden's mouth twitched, but he bit back any comment.

"My mistake, boys. You're both delightful. Now, who's ready for another round?"

"Whoever makes me laugh hardest tonight gets a private audience."

She hugged both men like a queen holding court, fully aware she was poking the bear, and enjoying every second of it.

"Stella Dawson!" Alexander's roar cut through the bar's din, making her blink slowly, deliberately.

"No need to yell, Mr. Sterling. We have ears."

"What, offended I called him 'high-end'? Fine, he's bargain bin. Happy?" she taunted.

He looked like a volcano on the verge of eruption. "Explain yourself. Who are these men?"

Stella didn't answer. A subtle glance at Kevin was all the cue he needed.

"Oh, we're her paid entertainment," Kevin replied with faux innocence. "Isn't it obvious?"

He pointed at Rex Turner, then at himself. "She fancied the new guy tonight. I'm part of the permanent collection."

Finally, Jack broke his silence. "And what, precisely, does 'entertainment' entail?"

He had a general idea, but part of him still refused to accept the reality.

"Are you for real?" Kevin shot back. "What rock did you crawl out from under? What do you think we do here?"

Jack's lips twitched again, but he swallowed the retort. Arguing with an escort was beneath him.

"You got a divorce just to debase yourself like this?" Alexander's voice was pure ice, his eyes drilling into her. "Have you no shame left?"

Was this ridiculous woman genuinely trying to make him regret the divorce?

Even Jack couldn't meet his eyes, but Stella held his gaze defiantly.

"That's a bit rich, coming from you," she said, her smile saccharine. "If I recall correctly, you're the one who filed the papers."

"So?" His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"So, it means you forfeited any right to an opinion."

Stella smiled like the sun, raised her glass high, and suddenly flung the contents straight at his chest. The dark liquid soaked into his pristine white shirt and suit jacket like a stain of contempt.

"Even if I decide to sample every man in this city, it is none of your damn business!"

A few stray drops splattered onto his cheek. He looked utterly, profoundly enraged.

"Mr. Sterling!" Jack panicked, fumbling for tissues with shaky hands.

He rushed forward, but a new figure materialized at the top of the stairs.

A playful, melodic voice followed: "My, my, what's all the excitement down here? The former Mrs. Sterling certainly knows how to liven up a party!"

The man commanded attention, his tall frame radiating an aura of authority. His features were sharply defined, cool and composed, placing him roughly in Alexander Sterling's league.

"Mr. Mitchell..." the assistant trailing Alexander began, keeping his gaze lowered.

"Get the title right," Stella Dawson cut him off with a sharp sideways glance. "It's Miss Dawson now. Not Mrs. Sterling. Show some basic respect, why don't you?"

She let the empty glass drop to the floor with a definitive clatter, her expression going blank. "Whatever. I'm done here."

As Stella turned to leave, her steps slightly unsteady, she waved a dismissive hand. Kevin Porter fell into step immediately. "You got it, boss."

He took a few steps, then turned back to haul a dazed Rex Turner up by the arm.

"Snap out of it, man," Kevin teased, grinning. "Weren't you listening? Stella said both of us."

"Oh, right... yeah..." Rex stumbled after them in a fluster.

Stella let out a quiet sigh but didn't look back. She didn't bother correcting Kevin's fabricated narrative, letting it stand.

Frankly, her reputation wasn't worth protecting anymore.

The trio soon vanished from view.

Ethan Mitchell watched them go, a smirk playing on his lips as he turned to Alexander. "So, you're just letting your ex-wife stroll off into the sunset with her entourage?"

"That's the 'empty-headed' girl you used to complain about? She seems plenty sharp to me."

"We are divorced," Alexander bit out, his voice clipped.

He wiped the residual liquor from his face with a tissue, a quiet, bitter laugh escaping him.

He had seriously underestimated Stella, genuinely believing her to be a vapid mess.

Ethan raised his brows, clearly surprised. "You finalized it already?"

"Obviously," Alexander replied, lifting his chin defiantly.

"Didn't her grandfather pass just a few months back? And you cast aside the girl he practically gifted-wrapped for you? That's... cold, man," Ethan remarked casually.

"You want to know why?" Alexander growled. "She stormed into my office, hijacked my computer, and emailed the entire company ranting about how I... ugh, never mind!"

Ethan barely managed to stifle a snort.

He clapped a hand on Alexander's shoulder, feigning sympathy. "Okay, yeah. That's pretty brutal."

"Hey, no joke though... are you, uh... functioning alright down there?" he continued, leaning in with mock concern. "I know some specialists. Five grand a session, but for you, I'll call in a favor."

Alexander shoved his hand away with a scowl. "Piss off!"

...

"Kevin, go get me some ice cream. It's sweltering."

Stella slumped back in her chair, her tone lazily authoritative.

After leaving the Moonlight Club, she had brought Kevin and Rex to a nearby café.

The heat was oppressive. Even though night had fallen, the pavement still radiated a residual oven-like warmth.

Kevin nodded and started to rise, but Rex was quicker.

"I-I'll go," Rex muttered, glancing uncertainly at Stella. "My treat."

"Alright then, thanks." She gave a small, appreciative wink and a warm smile.

Bolstered, Rex hurried to the counter and quietly placed their order.

"Damn, Stella, that face of yours is a lethal weapon," Kevin joked, grinning. "No man is safe."

Seriously, with her looks, someone ten times more accomplished than Alexander still wouldn't be enough for her. That man must be blind.

What was his problem, anyway?

"Hey, maybe we should just pay that guy off and send him home?" Kevin gestured subtly toward the man waiting at the counter. "He doesn't exactly scream 'top-tier host.'"

Couldn't hold a conversation, was terrible at flirting, and even told customers the blunt truth-yeah, probably not cut out for this line of work.

"Don't you know what really makes a successful male escort?"

"He's... refreshingly different," Stella Dawson said, a hint of a smile touching her lips.

Just then, Rex returned carrying several cups of ice cream.

He handed one to her and one to Kevin.

The café next to the Moonlight Club was actually more famous for its desserts.

Kevin didn't hold back, taking an immediate large bite. "Good call. This hits the spot."

"So, seriously," he continued, mouth still half-full, "what made you want to get into this business? You don't seem... prepared."

"I'm feeling generous today," he added, rubbing his hands together with a teasing grin. "Maybe I can set you up with a better gig."

Stella shot him a warning look-sharp enough to make Kevin drop the smirk and straighten up. He rolled his eyes slightly before turning back to Rex with a more serious expression.

"Relax, I'm just messing with you." He slung an arm around Rex's shoulder. "Come on, let's bounce. This place has too many busybodies."

Rex hesitated, his eyes flicking between Kevin and Stella. Ultimately, he didn't shake off the arm.

Kevin had a driver waiting out front, parked curbside in a conspicuously flashy white sports car.

Rex stood silent for a moment before sliding into the backseat with them.

Meanwhile, under the shadows nearby, Alexander Sterling stood watching, his fingers lightly tracing the wooden bead on the red string around his neck. His face was an unreadable mask, but a cold intensity simmered beneath the surface.

Jack Holden stood beside him, awkwardly silent, searching for the right words.

"That woman... it was Stella Dawson?" Alexander asked suddenly, his voice low. "Surrounded by hired men? Clinging to them?"

Jack stiffened. "I... I believe so..."

"It was her," Alexander stated, cold and final.

"Y-yes... that was Ms. Dawson," Jack muttered nervously, his eyes darting away.

Alexander's face darkened further as he stared at the departing sports car.

"Don't call her that. She's irrelevant," he snapped, yanking open the Rolls-Royce door. "Let's go."

The passenger door slammed shut with a heavy thud. The car sped off, leaving Jack standing on the curb with a defeated sigh.

Man, the boss has been in a foul mood lately-best not to provoke him.

He didn't dare say another word. Simply pulled out his phone to call a cab to follow them.

.

After the long night at Moonlight Club, Stella basically hibernated for two full days.

Technically, the villa wasn't hers. But since Alexander had ceased to appear months ago, she saw no reason to leave.

Still, a trip to the Dawson residence was unavoidable-she needed to retrieve her student ID.

And something even more crucial.

She tugged the brim of her cap lower and strode into the Dawson villa, her face set in a cold, impassive mask.

One of the maids recognized her immediately. Dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and loose-fitting pants, she was a far cry from the expected high-society attire.

The maid looked startled. "Miss."

"Hey, who is it?" a haughty voice called from the top of the staircase.

A girl, dressed as if for a photoshoot, appeared on the landing, her chin lifted imperiously as she looked down and questioned the maid.

Stella flexed her fingers slightly, her expression flat but her mind buzzing with silent sarcasm.

Wow. Settled into the 'precious daughter' role pretty fast, didn't she?

"Miss Emily, this is Miss Stella." the maid said gingerly.

Emily Dawson paused. She turned slowly, her eyes locking onto Stella's bored, disinterested face.

Even with the cap pulled low, it couldn't conceal her delicate, striking features. However much Emily loathed her, she had to admit-Stella was devastatingly beautiful.

Even devoid of expression, her flawless complexion and perfect bone structure seemed almost unreal.

That very beauty only stoked the fires of Emily's seething jealousy.

Her expression contorted rapidly, a chaotic swirl of emotions-envy, rage, bitter resentment-flashing across her face.

Why does she get to look like that?

What makes her so special?