I woke up feeling tired, today was a weekend so I didn't have much to do. I had waited all night for Sofia's idea but she didn't text, I guess she hasn't come up with something yet. I looked at my face on my phone screen, my eyes were swollen from crying, I didn't mind, because some times this was normal to me. After freshening up, I was debating on going to the hospital to see Papa or study, when an incoming call interrupted my thought.

The caller name read 'Sofia' a little smile formed on my lips, she had finally come up with an idea. I picked up the call. "Hey Sofia," I greeted.

"How are you?" She asked concerned.

"I'm fine," I lied.

"Have you come up with an idea?" I asked hopeful.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure you would like it, I'm on my way to your place," her voice was not cheerful, but I was still hopeful.

"Okay, I'll be waiting," I ended the call.

After what seemed like an hour, she knocked, I rushed to open the door.

"Come in," I gestured her.

"I knew you have been crying," she said as she sat down. I gave her a reassuring smile not to worry.

"I'm not sure you're going to like the idea, but it's the fastest way to get the money," she paused expecting me to say something but I just listened instead.

"There is a website where old men pay young girls to sleep with them for a night, just for a night and then you get paid," she emphasized but it was not about it being for a night. I stayed quiet for some time.

"I'm a virgin," I said quietly.

"Oh, I'm sorry for bringing up such an idea, I did not know," she panicked but I did not feel offended she was only trying to help.

"It's fine, I know you mean no harm," I said trying to ease the tension she felt.

"You sure it's just a one night thing?" I asked considering the idea. I kept my virginity for true love, but this was an emergency and who knows if I would ever meet my true love.

"Yes, it's just a night, but you don't have to do it, we can think of another way," she said calmly.

"There is no other fast way to get the money, except I want to do something worse than this," I exhaled.

"So how do we...," I was too shy to complete it, but she understood what I meant.

"We would create a profile for you and then wait," she said grabbing my phone. After the process was done, I uploaded the sexiest pic I had on my phone.

"So that's all?" I said surprised.

"That's just the easiest part," she said giving me a small smile.

After a few hours a notification popped up on my phone, it was a message from the app, I gave the phone to Sofia to check it out, she understood the app more.

"You have a client already," she said not to sure if it was a good news.

"Okay," I replied not believing I could do this for a man who spent most of his time abusing me with harsh words.

"He's in his sixties, are you sure you want to do this?" Sofia asked concerned.

"What choice do I have?, It's just a night, I would be fine," I said reassuring her.

We accepted the offer and the pay was exactly what I needed.

"My driver would pick you up in the evening," Sofia read the message on my phone. That was fast, I didn't even have time to look good but I didn't care, it was just a one time thing.

"I would leave you to get ready, if you change your mind before then, it's fine," she said hugging me.

"Thank you," I appreciated her.

I wore a simple black dress, it was just business, there was nothing special there. Once it was 8pm a black SUV was parked outside and I just knew it was his driver. I walked outside not minding the stares outside, I just knew I would collect a lot of insults when I come back, but I didn't care.

The drive to the house wasn't more than an hour, I was shocked to see a beautiful mansion, but then again, it was a wealthy old man, was I meant to expect less.

"Ma'am Mr Damien will be with you shortly, you can wait In the third room by your left," the driver directed me.

"Thanks," I gave a slight nod.

With the help of the driver's description I found the room, I sat on the couch close to the bed. My hands were shaking slightly but I held them firmly, not wanting to show any sign of weakness.

After what felt like 30 minutes, a tall handsome man, black hair, brown eyes, great physique and perfect jawline entered the room. He looked to be in his late thirties, probably Mr Damien's son, I thought to myself.

"I'm waiting for your father," I said shyly, even though I hated the fact I was shy.

He chuckled slightly. "My father is long dead,"

My eyes widened in shock and surprise, what does he mean 'long dead'.

"Darling you were waiting for me, My name is Damien," he introduced himself.

He looked nothing like the profile picture, it was confusing.

"You're not the one in the profile," I said confusingly.

"Yeah, that's a fake picture, I prefer to keep my identity private, so young girls won't end up falling for me, it's just sex," he said nonchalantly with so much pride.

I looked closely at him and I could have sworn I had seen him somewhere, but couldn't just place where. I brushed it off, might just be my mind playing with me. We stared at each other for close to five minutes, I didn't know what to do and I was not going to ask.

"You would need to freshen up, but I would join you," he said pulling off his suit.

"You don't have to," I replied quickly remembering I had to shave and would be too shy to look at him while doing that.

"I wasn't seeking your permission," he said with so much pride. I kept reminding myself I needed the money and just have to tolerate his ego and pride for one night.

Damien didn't ask, he just took my wrist and pulled me toward the bathroom like I was already his to move. Inside the bathroom was quite big, everything about it screamed money.

"Strip," he said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

I lifted my chin, trying to look like I wasn't shaking. "You first."

He laughed like I'd told a bad joke. "Cute. But I'm not the one getting paid tonight, sweetheart."

I swallowed the embarrassment and pulled the black dress off. Standing there in just my plain underwear felt worse than being naked. He stepped forward, slowly pulling down my panties and unhooking my bra.

"You didn't shave," he observed.

I shrugged, forcing nonchalance. "Didn't think I needed to, profile said sixties, figured he wouldn't notice."

He raised a brow. "Disappointed?"

"You're not sixty," I shot back. "You're... what, forty?"

"Thirty nine," he corrected, voice dry. "Ancient by your standards, I'm sure."

I rolled my eyes, trying to act like my heart wasn't hammering. "You still look better than most guys my age."

He smirked. "Flattering me won't make this go faster."

He turned on the shower, grabbed a small leather kit from the counter that contained razor, cream and fresh towel.

"Sit," he said, pointing to the ledge beside the sink.

He knelt in front of me, pushed my knees apart with zero hesitation. "Open."

I hesitated, closing my legs tightly. He raised an eyebrow. "You want the money or not?"

I opened my legs, hating how exposed I felt. He spread the cream over my mound, slow circles that made me bite my lip. Every pass of his thumb brushed too close to my clit.

"Didn't expect to be doing arts and crafts tonight," I muttered, trying to sound sarcastic.

"Neither did I," he replied without looking up. "But here we are. You're making it interesting,"

He tilted my hips needing better access to shave the hair off, fingers grazing my clit. I sucked in a breath every time.

"You're jumpy," he noted.

"I'm fine," I lied, voice tight.

"Sure you are." He blew air over the bare skin when he finished. I jerked so hard my back hit the mirror.

He chuckled. "Sensitive little thing."

"Stop talking," I snapped.

"Make me," he smirked.

He stripped his clothes, no hesitation, no shame. His body was carved muscle, thick thighs, and a cock already half hard, I tried not to stare but I failed.

He opened the shower door, stepped in, then held out a hand. "Get in."

I walked in, he pulled me under the spray, turning me so my back was against his chest. His hands were sliding over my shoulders to my breast, my stomach, when he reached between my legs, I moaned.

He pressed himself against my ass, very hard now. "You're wet," he murmured in my ear. "Not just from the water."

"Shut up," I whispered, but my hips rocked back anyway.

He turned me around, lifted one of my legs over his hip, and slid two fingers inside me without warning. I gasped. He pumped slowly, thumb circling my clit. Then he froze, his fingers stilled, brows furrowed.

"You're tight," he said, almost to himself. "Too tight."

I bit my lip, suddenly ashamed. "Yeah... about that..."

He pulled his fingers out, looked at the faint smear of blood-tinged wetness. His eyes snapped to mine. "You're a virgin."

I nodded once, looking anywhere but at him.

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. "You put virgin on your profile?"

"No," I said quickly. "I just... didn't think it mattered. Old man, one night. Figured he wouldn't care."

Damien stared at me for a long second. Something flickered in his expression, surprise, maybe irritation, maybe something darker. "I was planning on fucking you hard," he said flatly. "Rough. The way I usually do."

My stomach dropped. "And now?"

He stepped closer, water streaming down his chest. "Now I'm thinking about how much it's going to hurt you if I do that. You're nineteen, barely legal and tiny."

I tried to look tough. "I can handle it."

He laughed. "Brave girl."

He shut off the water, grabbed a towel, wrapped it around me like I was breakable. Then he scooped me up and carried me back to the bedroom.

He laid me on the sheets, climbed over me, caged me with his arms. "Last chance to run," he said, voice low.

"I need the money," I whispered.

He studied my face, then he kissed me, slow and deep like he was tasting something he hadn't expected to like.

When he pulled back, he spread my legs again. Putting his fingers gently now, stretching me, curling inside, finding that spot that made my back arch.

"You're soaking," he muttered. "Virgin or not, your pussy wants this."

I moaned, couldn't help it.

He lined himself up, his tip nudging my entrance. "Eyes on me."

"Tell me if it's too much." He pushed in slow, the stretch burned. I dug my nails into his shoulders.

He stopped halfway, letting me adjust. "Breathe."

I did, the pain eased into pressure. He went deeper, inch by inch, until he was completely inside me.

"Fuck," he groaned. "So tight."

He started moving, slowly at first, then faster, harder. Every thrust dragged against places that made me dizzy. I wrapped my legs around him, meeting his rhythm even though it still hurt a little.

He fucked me like he was claiming something, deep, possessive, but careful enough.

"Come for me," he whispered in my ears, moving faster and hitting spots that made me go crazy.

"Damien," I cried out his name as I came without meaning to.

"That's it," he growled, moving even faster than before, so fast I thought I might pass out.

"Fuck," he growled low, pulsing inside me as he filled me with his cum.

We stayed like that, breathing hard. After a long minute he pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from me with dark satisfaction.

"One night," he said again, almost like a reminder.

But the way he looked at me said something else entirely.

The money arrived in my account the next morning plus a little extra I hadn't expected. I stared at the notification on my phone for a full minute. I didn't waste time feeling guilty. I transferred the full amount to the hospital right there. After a few hours I went to the hospital, when I got to the ward, the nurse at the desk actually smiled at me, first time anyone in that place had looked at me like I wasn't just another broke family member taking up space.

"Your father's in surgery now," she said. "They started about an hour ago."

I nodded, throat tight. "Can I wait?"

She pointed to the chairs down the hall. "Family's area's that way. I'll let you know when he's out."

I sat for hours, my mind kept replaying last night, the way he had said 'one night' like he was convincing himself more than me. I shifted in the plastic chair every time the memory hit too hard. My body still ached in places I hadn't known could ache. Not bad pain, just... there.

When the doctor finally came out, he looked tired but calm. "Successful," he said. "He's in recovery. We'll keep him here a few more days, but the worst is over. You did good getting the funds so fast."

I almost laughed. 'Good' wasn't the word I'd use. But I thanked him, signed the forms, and left before anyone could ask too many questions.

I went straight to the diner after. Sofia was wiping down the counter when I walked in. She looked up, eyes searching my face like she could read the whole night off me. "You're alive," she said, half joking, half serious.

"Barely," I muttered.

She dropped the rag and pulled me into the back room, away from the lunch crowd. "Okay, spill."

I leaned against the wall, arms folded tight. "I did it."

"I know you did it, I want details," she said rolling her eyes.

I stared at the floor. "He didn't look like the picture."

Sofia's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Yeah. The profile showed some old guy. The man who opened the door was... thirty nine, tall, built. Looked like he stepped out of a magazine."

She let out a low whistle. "So you got a handsome man instead?"

I snorted despite myself. "Something like that."

She stepped closer, voice dropping. "And? Was it... bad?"

I chew the inside of my cheek. The memories rushed back, the I had said his name when I came, his mouth on mine. Hear crawled up my neck. "It wasn't bad," I said quietly. "It was... intense."

Sofia studied me for a second. Then she reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "You okay?"

I shrugged. "I got the money, Dad's in surgery, that's what matters."

She didn't push, just nodded. "You're tougher than you look, Elena. But you don't have to pretend with me. We're friends now, right?"

The word 'friends' hit me harder than I expected. I blinked fast. "Yeah, friends."

She smiled. "Good. Then next time you're at my place, we're getting drunk and you're telling me everything. No holding back."

I laughed, shaky. "Deal."

She hugged me quick and tight before we went back to work. For the first time the diner felt like somewhere I belonged.

The next week blurred together. Dad came out of surgery okay. I visited every day after classes, brought him magazines he wouldn't read. He didn't thank me, didn't ask where the money came from. Just grumbled about the food, nurses and the TV channels. Same old Victor.

School was the same hell, but I had less patience for it now. Monday morning, I was walking down the main corridor when the usual trio spotted me.

"Still wearing the same jacker?" one of them called. Chloe, the leader, voice dripping fake sweetness. "You know they sell new ones in stores, right?"

I kept walking. "Hey, scholarship girl," another one said. "Your dad still drinking the rent money?"

I stopped, looked her dead in the eye. "Better than drinking Daddy's credit card," I said flatly.

Chloe laughed, but it sounded forced. "Wow. Got a backbone today."

I stepped closer. "I've always had one. You just never noticed because you were too busy staring at your own reflection."

Chlow opened her mouth, closed it, then flicked her hair and walked away like she had won something. Her friends trailed behind.

By Thursday, the soreness was mostly gone. I could sit through lectures without wincing. I could walk without feeling every step between my legs. But I still thought about Damien. I hated how often the memory crept in and how my body warmed just remembering. I went to the hospital after school to visit my Dad but met him yelling at one of the nurse.

"Why is the food so bad, I don't pay so much money to get these kind of food," he yelled.

"You don't pay anything at all Papa," I said entering the room.

"I'm sorry," I apologised to the nurse and collected the food tray from her.

"You don't get to act this way here," I scolded him after the nurse left.

"You are developing all these attitude just because you paid the bill," he frowned.

I let out a sigh, tired of his behaviour. "Think what you like, but you don't get to shout at anyone here, they aren't me that would put up with you behaviour," I said trying to control my anger.

"I don't remember raising such a disrespectful child," he shouted.

"Well I don't remember you raising me at all, you can't even be appreciative for once in your life," I dropped the food tray and left angrily. Dealing with him was just too much to handle so I went home, I would probably visit him another day.

Friday afternoon I had to go to the administration building in school for my final year scholarship renewal, some form I had to sign in person, get a stamp, make sure my grades hadn't dropped below the cutoff. I had been putting it off because the building always felt cold and official, like they were judging me just for existing there. The main hall was quiet when i walked in. High ceilings, portraits of donors and past presidents lined the walls. I barely glanced at them, I was just focused on finding the right office.

Then I turned the corner and stopped shocked. The portrait was massive, bigger than the others, gold frame. It read, "Damien Blackwood, Principal Benefactor and Owner, Columbia University."

I stared at the frame, same jawline, same dark hair, looking straight through the camera like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

My stomach tightened so fast, i felt sick. "Oh fuck, what have I done?" I whispered.