Sold To A Billionaire

ZOE is a graduating college student from Manhattan. She’s a scholar of a well-known company that deals with cars. She lives in four corners of a small apartment with her mother, Iris.

Iris works every night at the nearby club as a pole dancer and a court for the upper-class—billionaires, politicians, and the like. People address her as an ultimate ‘courtesan’ because she’s been targeting high profiles.

Zoe even gets bullied because of her mother’s job. Despite this, she mastered ignoring everything. Her mother may not have a decent job, but she still loves her, and no one can change that.

“Zoe…” her mom called her name, and she stopped doing her homework.

Since their apartment costs cheap, she could easily hear voices outside her room. She then walked towards the door and opened it. She looked at her mom from head to toe, and she dressed seductively for her work again.

“Have you finished your homework already?” her mom asked.

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

Her mother’s lips formed an ‘O’.

“Why?”

“I’m gonna ask if you want to go to the club and chill since it’s Friday,” her mom asserted and fixed her dress, especially in the bust area, where the cleavage of her boobies was flaunted.

“I’ll just continue it then tomorrow,” she replied. “Give me five minutes,” she added, making her mom smile and nod.

“Hmm…”

She frowned slightly and looked into her mom’s eyes. It seems like her mom wants to add something or say something.

“Ma?” she snapped out.

“Ah…” her mom cleared her throat, “—w-wear something sexy, okay,” she stuttered.

Zoe arched her brow. “Why?”

Her mom flashed a smile on her face again. “Just.”

Zoe then heaved a deep sigh and nodded.

“Wait for me,” she said before closing the door.

She heaved a deep sigh as she walked toward her small wooden cabinet. She opened it and roamed her eyes inside. “Wear something sexy?” she whispered, “—but I don’t have any sexy dress,” she added. She laughs. Most of her clothes were shirts and jeans. She is not fond of dresses. She prefers loose shirts. Sometimes she wears a skirt, but she makes sure that it reaches her knee. She will never wear any revealing clothes nor try one.

“Mom! I don’t have any of…” the door of her room opened, “those,” she whispered the last word as she faced her mom.

Her mom approaches her while holding a black off-the-shoulder dress. “Sorry, sweetie. I forgot you don’t have any sexy clothes,” she said and flashed a wide smile.

She arched her left brow as she reached for the dress. “I am taller than you, mom. And this is…” she lifts the dress to scan it, “—too short for me,” she added as she looked at Iris.

Iris smiled. “You should try it—”

“And why do I need to dress like this? We go to clubs or bars, but this is the first time that I will wear this…” she glanced at the dress once again, “—kind of dress.”

Iris let out a soft chuckle. “Sweetie, we will be going to attend a party.”

Zoe arched her brow. “In a club?”

Iris nodded. “My last client invited me to attend his son’s 28th birthday.”

She arched her brow. “I thought we’re gonna chill—”

“Of course, with free drinks, since it’s a party,” Iris interrupted and let out a disturbing chuckle.

She nodded. “I see. But it’s fine if I don’t wear this, right? It’s not that I will join you and the rest. I will just have some drinks on the counter,” she said, trying to avoid wearing this soul-chasing dress.

Iris crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Zoe…” okay, her mother already uses her warning tone. But there’s no way she would wear a kind of dress like this.

“You knew I don’t wear this kind of stuff.”

Iris heaved a deep sigh and approached her. She cupped her face as she looked up at her.

“Look, sweetie, can you do this for mommy, just this time?”

Zoe met her mom’s eyes and her forehead slightly knitted. Her eyes were confused, and her heart started to feel doubt, and fear suddenly lingers inside her.

She doesn’t know—she doesn’t want to overthink it, but she has a bad feeling about it.

WHEN they took a cab towards the club where her mother usually goes for work, her mom seemed bothered—it looked like something was bothering her.

Zoe held her mom’s hand and pressed it, and she felt that it was cold. “Ma, is everything fine? You seem unwell—” she didn’t finish her words when her mom tapped her hand and flashed a smile.

“I’m okay. Nothing to worry about,” Iris replied.

Zoe heaved a deep sigh and nodded. She didn’t let go of her mom’s hand until they reached the club.

Iris paid for their fare before they got out of the car. She smiled at her again when they walked towards the entrance, making Zoe frown.

“Ma, your smile is creeping the hell out of me,” she uttered. Her mom doesn’t usually smile or laugh. She’s a busy woman during the day and night. When she comes home, Zoe is already asleep. And when she went to school, her mother had already left.

So, she knew, and she strongly felt something was bothering her mom.

However, she chooses to stay silent when they enter the club.

The loud music welcomed them. As usual, the club ambiance is still the same. The first floor is the dance floor and the bar counter, while the second floor is the VIPs areas, and the last floor, which is the third floor, is full of rooms—at least there were ten.

She’s been in this club about four times now, and she can’t pinpoint any changes. Except for those men who are outside. She hasn’t seen those men in tuxedos. And what are they doing there?

Well, she doesn’t mind. All she needs is to have some drink at least. And at the moment, she wanted to change her dress already. Her body was too exposed with her dress. Her cleavage can be seen if she pulls the hem a little bit.

She cursed under her breath when a hand touched her exposed legs while walking toward the stairs.

She glared at the man who was now staring at her like a pervert and got closer to her mom.

Iris saw it and drove the man away. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Ma, he just runs his fingers into my left leg,” she complained, but her voice was in control.

Iris smiled. “No one can harm you here. Trust me. My client is too powerful. If I tell him that they touch you, that man will be dead—”

“What are you saying, Ma?” Zoe asked as confusion lit her eyes.

Iris’ eyes widened. “Oh—it’s nothing, sweetie. Come on, and the party is upstairs. They must be waiting for us,” she said, which drew lines into Zoe’s forehead.

They were on the last step of the stairs when Farah’s eyes widened because of surprise. She was about to turn around, but her mom grabbed her in the arm, making her step forward.

“Ma…”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” her mom uttered as she grabbed Zoe by the arm again, and they walked towards the single couch where a man in his seventies was sitting, and a pipe was in between his lips.

Zoe started to feel fear when her mom’s grip tightened on her arm as she pushed her.

“Ma… what are you doing—”

“Come on, sweetie. Please, behave,” her mom muttered.

“B-But, Ma,” she forced her feet to stop, but her mom pulled her again. “Ma… what are you doing!” her voice roared.

“Zoe, I told you to behave—”

“What are we doing in front of a murderer? And where’s the party?!” Zoe shouted as she glanced at the older man.

“That person sitting on the black couch was the one who killed the President—”

“Shut up, Zoe. Just follow me, please…” her mom pleaded, and when Zoe met her eyes, she saw fear in them.

Iris pushed her forward and let her go.

Zoe shot a glare in her mom’s direction. Suddenly two men went to her side and pointed their guns at her. She trembles in fear as tears fall down her cheeks. She glanced at her mom, and her vision started to blur.

“Why?” she whispered.

However, her mom didn’t give her answers.

Iris faces the old man. “As promised, here she is. She’s clean and pure. She’s also at the right age—”

“Mom!” Zoe exclaimed when she got the idea of what was going on. “How could you do this….”

No one dared to answer her. She wiped her tears as she glanced at the gun on her right. She choked back tears when the man dipped the gun’s muzzle into her arm. Her sobs got louder until a deep voice ruined the tension on the second floor.

“Dad. What’s the meaning of this?”