Their bodies were so close they were practically sharing air, the atmosphere tinged with something unspoken. Seeing the icy sharpness in Elliot's eyes, Charisse oddly felt a little more at ease.

Yeah, she had zero experience. Still, five million.

She knew damn well this was just Elliot trying to humiliate her. But... five million.

So she psyched herself up in record time. Just when she was about to pull off his underwear, Elliot suddenly flipped her over, pinning her beneath him.

A sharp sting on her lips-he took control before she even knew what hit her. Unlike her hesitant mess of moves just now, Elliot kissed like he meant business. He pried her lips open, tangled with her tongue, even her breathing started syncing to his rhythm.

It felt like her brain exploded into fireworks-blank, dazed, gone.

She clearly had no technique, but her awkwardness somehow hit Elliot in a way that made his nerves light up like a live wire. Something hot and wild burst inside him, making him deepen the kiss.

One strong arm clutched her waist tight, anchoring her like he was claiming territory. His hand slid across her shoulder, and with terrifying ease, he tore straight through the thin fabric of her dress, sending a cold shiver racing through her.

The kiss was too intense-Charisse couldn't keep up, and a gasp escaped her lips. That sound triggered something, thickened the air, like flipping a switch.

Elliot's lips trailed from the edge of her mouth, down to her neck, then brushed her ear.

She panted hard, so breathless her tongue felt numb.

His breath was hot, voice low and hoarse, brushing right against her skin as he asked, "Charisse, tell me-who am I?"

Charisse's mind was mush, not a single solid thought in her head. But that question-it sounded super familiar. Owen asked that question during her time with amnesia.

So she blurted his name. "Owen..."

It was like someone upended a bucket of ice-cold water over their heads. Whatever heat was in the room vanished in a blink.

All the desire in Elliot's gaze disappeared, replaced by a chill so cutting it burned. He stared at her for a long beat, face unreadable. Then he pushed off her, cool and detached, like the guy from just seconds ago had never existed.

Cold didn't even begin to describe his voice now-it was laced with something darker. "Wow, Miss Walton. Even now, you're still thinking about your useless boyfriend."

He turned his face away, refusing to look at the chaotic mess she'd become, lighting a cigarette and taking a hard drag.

"Talk trash about me if you want. But don't bring him into this."

The fact she was still trying to defend that loser? Elliot's expression turned even worse.

"What, you think he's actually someone special?" he scoffed, "Then how come he lets you sell yourself for cash?"

"Isn't that a bit much from you, Mr. Grant?" Charisse slowly sat up, casually smoothing out her crumpled dress. "People can't live on pride alone-money still matters."

"Five million is a serious overestimation," Elliot said flatly. "You're really not that good. Total turn-off."

"Oh? But judging by your performance just now, you didn't seem too turned off. More like someone who's been starved for years and finally got a bite."

"Hard not to be curious? A rich girl turned call girl-that's not something you see every day."

Charisse responded calmly, "At least I came out ahead. Unlike you, Mr. Grant-five million down the drain just to sleep with someone 'worthless'? Sounds like you're the one taking the loss."

His tone stayed cool. "Still as sharp-tongued as ever, aren't you, Miss Walton?"

"'Still'? You're funny tonight. I thought we were strangers meeting for the first time?"

That caught him off guard for a second, and Charisse felt a quiet satisfaction wash over her. Just like back when they used to clash as kids at the Walton's house.

Elliot stubbed out his cigarette in a crystal ashtray and asked casually, "If this is how you treat your clients, I'm guessing you don't get much repeat business."

Charisse's fake smile froze and was about to speak when Elliot interrupted, "You work at Luna Heights too, don't you? Figures. Maybe they should start handing out some pink slips."

Right. She wasn't the old Charisse anymore. She was selling her body. And he? He's the one paying her bills. She had no right to act high and mighty now.

Besides... she couldn't afford to lose her job.

She bit her lip, forcing a pretty, practiced smile. "Any other requests, Mr. Grant? Just say the word-we'll make sure to fulfill them."

"No need," he replied blandly. "I'm not into unclean things."

Charisse nearly blurted out, "You came to me-so maybe don't act high and mighty like you're kind of saint."

But she swallowed it back-for the sake of her job.

Right then, her walkie-talkie crackled to life. A colleague's voice came through: "Charisse, aren't you at the post? Owen's here looking for you. Seems urgent."

"Got it."

She knew Elliot was done talking, so she got ready to leave.

"Didn't your parents always want you with someone powerful?" Elliot said coolly. "So how'd you end up with a guy who can't even scrape together five million? That's your boyfriend?"

One line, and he threw dirt on everyone close to her.

"Things aren't always what they seem. There's a lot more going on beneath the surface," Charisse said softly, her gaze steady, eyes clear, a faint smile playing at her lips. "Not exactly something a stranger would understand."

That word-stranger-drove the wedge between them even deeper.

Charisse knew it better than anyone. She was twenty-five now. No longer the six-year-old girl he first met, nor the sixteen-year-old they'd said goodbye to. She had grown. And so had the distance between them.

Time had stretched wide between them. The world spinning faster only pushed them further apart.

She hadn't treated him specially back then, and didn't expect any kindness from him now, either.

Today was just the beginning. Everything after this-if she wanted to keep her job-she had no choice but to go along with it.

"Looks like you're not in the mood tonight, Mr. Grant. I'll head out now. If you need anything later, you can call me." Her voice was calm, well-practiced.

Elliot let out a low chuckle. "I thought Princess Walton wouldn't want to see me again."

"You're the guest. Serving you is part of the job," she replied smoothly.

He gave a faint smile, pulled out a check, signed it, and handed it to her.

She glanced at the number-one million.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"Kiss fee."

Charisse blinked, stunned. She thought since nothing had really happened, she wouldn't get a dime.

But here it was, painfully real. That check screamed loud and clear-he only saw her as a hostess. Do the job, take the money, end of story.

And yet, for some reason, her chest tightened in a way she hadn't expected. It hit her out of nowhere, with no logic behind it.

A million for a kiss-what was there to feel bitter about?

"How generous of you," she said, lifting her chin slightly, trying not to let that ache show. Her voice was almost playful as she added, "Actually, we could rethink the original five million... Say, a million per kiss? Five kisses, deal done."

Elliot raised a brow, voice unreadable. "Five kisses for five million?"

"If you think that's too steep, I might even throw in a kiss for free." Her smile was dazzling, cheeky even-like the kind of vendor at a night market who sells at a loss but gains pride.

Maybe, just maybe, if she could make the rules feel like hers, she wouldn't feel so damn small.

Elliot casually rolled up his shirt sleeves, then replied in a mild tone, "Alright."

He did it. Pulled out a new check, wrote five million, and slid it toward her.

She reached out to take it, but his fingers were still pressing down lightly on one corner-she couldn't pull it away.

"When's the free one you promised happening?" he asked casually.

"Whenever you feel like it," she answered.

He curled his thin lips upward-a smile with just enough charm to be dangerous. Probably the first time he looked genuinely pleased all night.

"In that case, I feel like it now."

"No, not now!" she said quickly. Owen was waiting downstairs. She couldn't...

But Elliot didn't give her a chance to finish. He pulled her over, pinned her against the wide, two-meter-long wooden desk.

He didn't kiss her much this time. It was rough. Quick. Just enough to draw blood from her lip.

"There. Done." He straightened up, wiping her blood from his mouth with a slow grace. "Go ahead. Your boyfriend's probably wondering where you went."

Charisse knew he did it on purpose. She raised her hand and swung at him without thinking.

Elliot caught her wrist effortlessly-cold.

Now that things had calmed down a bit, he finally noticed: her hand was freezing, way too cold for summer.

Charisse shoved at him, using both hands and her whole body, her voice sharp with anger. "Elliot, you're still the same jerk!"

To Elliot, her anger only meant one thing-she cared. The more pissed she got, the more it proved she still gave a damn about that useless boyfriend of hers.

"What, scared now?" he let out a low chuckle. "If you had the guts to do it, why be afraid of people knowing?"

"I'm done talking to you." Charisse's tone was laced with frustration. "Can I leave now?"

No response. She scoffed, throwing the question right back at him. "What, Mr. Grant wants to go for round two? If you keep pulling this, I'm gonna think you're still hung up on me."

Elliot laughed coldly. "You really think I wanted to kiss you just now? Don't flatter yourself. It was just... heat of the moment. Old feelings?" He looked at her with disdain, "There's nothing left between us-get over it."

After tossing those words at her, he turned and walked into the inner room without a second glance.

Charisse gripped the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white.

What he said wasn't even close to the worst she'd ever heard. After her family went bankrupt, she'd heard stuff ten times more brutal. She thought she'd toughened up. Clearly, not enough.

It's fine. She tried to convince herself it wasn't a big deal. At least she'd earned five million out of it-enough to cover her dad's medical bills for now.

She headed to the staff lounge first to change her clothes before walking out to the hotel lobby.

Owen spotted her and dashed over, anxious. "Charisse, why'd you text me like that? Was it something I did?"

Charisse kept her eyes down, avoiding his gaze. "It's not you, Owen. You've been great. We're just... not right for each other."

"Not right? Is it because of my mom? Don't worry about that-I've started trying to talk her around. I promise, I'll make her accept us. Let's get married next year. No, this year. This year, okay?"

Owen was trying so hard not to push her, keeping his voice soft, like any extra pressure might make her crack.

Charisse took a deep breath and looked at him. "Owen, I... I fell for someone else."

She just couldn't bring herself to explain what happened tonight.

When Owen noticed the cut on her lip, his expression froze. Color drained from his face, and he almost lost his balance.

"I'm sorry."

Charisse bit down on her lip, reopening the cut there again. The sting was sharp, but she kept her voice steady. "Owen, thank you for everything-especially covering my dad's medical bills. I'll pay you back."

"Who is it?" Owen grabbed her wrist, not letting her leave. His eyes were rimmed red, hurt and confusion tangled in his voice. "Just tell me. Who is he? Who the hell is it?"

"I'm sorry."

"Tell me!" Owen suddenly shouted. "Who?!"

Heads turned across the hotel lobby. Even Elliot, just stepping out of the private elevator, paused and looked over.

"Owen, don't be like this," Charisse said, guilt twisting in her chest at his reaction. "Come on, calm down. You know we don't work. Your mom's not wrong-my family's bankrupt, we're in debt, my dad's stuck in the hospital for who knows how long, and on top of that..."

She took a breath before continuing, "I've got a record. My law license was revoked. I'm just working in a hotel now. Your family's well-off, they care about reputation. The truth is, they'd never accept me. Owen, we just don't have a future."

"But none of that's your fault!" Owen's voice cracked, his anger sinking into raw desperation. "The bankruptcy had nothing to do with you, and the time in jail-I've been looking into that. I know you're innocent, Charisse. I'll clear your name. Please... don't push me away."

He wasn't yelling anymore, just pleading, like all his strength had drained away.

Charisse gently reached up and ruffled his messy curls. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Owen's eyes were completely red now, tears threatening to fall.

Charisse softly slipped her hand out of his grasp and walked away.

Outside, in the parking lot, she spotted his car-a plain white compact, barely worth ten grand. Her mind suddenly flashed back to the first time she'd met Owen, when he pulled up in a flashy yellow sports car, revved the engine right past her, then came back around and asked, "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I drive by again?"

Since then, he'd done so much for her. Paid her dad's hospital bills, chased away loan sharks, kept things together for her when everything was falling apart. He'd burned through money like it was nothing, until his parents cut him off-froze his cards, stopped his cash. So, he sold his house, his car, even his sneakers... all for her.

Charisse owed him. A lot.

And even if tonight hadn't happened, she'd already made up her mind not to drag him down with her anymore.

Every cent he spent on her, she'd written down. Someday, she'd pay him back. Slowly but surely.

As she turned around, she spotted him through the hotel's tall, gleaming window-still standing there, shoulders slumped, looking like a kicked puppy, all lost and heartbroken.

Not far behind him stood a tall figure-Elliot.

Even with that distance between them, Charisse could feel it-he was watching her.

Elliot really was watching her.

After seeing how she broke up with Owen, he finally realized-so this is how she ends things with people.

Soft voice, hesitant farewell, that kind of reluctant sadness and helplessness-he could see it all clearly, even just standing there.

So gentle.

Not at all how she'd been with him.

Elliot let out a dry laugh and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray by the hallway.

As he walked past Owen, his steps slowed for a second-he'd caught a whisper from the man.

"I'm not breaking up. No way I'm giving up on her..."

Even though Owen was still stuck in his heartbreak, he could feel the overwhelming pressure from this stranger walking by. He glanced at the man-clean-cut, refined, practically screamed money-and hesitantly asked, "Who... who are you?"

Someone like him, if he were from Draycott, Owen definitely would've heard of him.

Elliot didn't answer. Just gave a fleeting glance and walked off like nothing happened.

The impression he left behind though-too striking. Perfect looks, even sharper aura-and completely unfamiliar.

Out of nowhere, Owen remembered what Charisse had said only minutes ago:

"I like someone else now."

Meanwhile, Charisse had just hopped into a cab, nearly shouting at the driver to floor it to Northgate General Hospital.

Just half a minute earlier, she'd gotten a call from Claire Abbott.

Her dad was in critical condition.

By the time Charisse arrived, her father had already been rushed into emergency surgery. Her aunt Claire sat in the hallway, tears streaming down her face.

"Aunt Claire, what happened? Dad was fine earlier today! How did it get like this all of a sudden?"

Claire's eyes shifted, avoiding hers. "It was... Clayton's people."

The name sounded like a punch in the gut.

Calling Clayton Ellis a kingpin of Draycott was putting it lightly. He'd gotten rich off the shady business years ago, and even though he'd cleaned things up since, everyone knew he still had his hands in some underground pie-usury, for one.

Charisse had seen the thugs he sent out to collect money-absolute nightmares. Thuggish, violent, and a few even drove people to their deaths. Total desperadoes.

And unlucky them-her family had taken a loan from him.

The principal had been paid off long ago, but the interest had ballooned to something massive. With Clayton's crew, debts like that weren't just forgiven.

"So they came to collect again? That what made my dad so stressed he collapsed?"

"No, not about the debt this time..." Claire's voice faltered. "It's..."

She hesitated, lips trembling, before she finally forced it out. "Clayton said... he wants to marry you. If you agree, he'll write off all the debt-and cover your father's medical bills too."

"To Clayton?" Charisse's voice shot up. "His son's over ten years older than me!"

Claire kept her gaze low, clearly uncomfortable, wringing her hands.

Charisse's face turned colder by the second. "Aunt Claire... please don't tell me you said yes."Claire froze, panicking as she stared at her. "Charisse, I didn't have a choice... I swear..."

So she really had said yes.

"I told you I'd figure something out about the debt, Aunt Claire. Was that really something you could just agree to on your own?"

Claire broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. "Charisse, you didn't see those people. They had a knife to my throat and said they'd slit it if I didn't agree..."

"And what could you do, really?" she continued, through her crying. "Look at how bad things are at home. You think there's anything a girl like you can do at this point? You've struggled for so long, has anything actually changed? No! You working part-time just isn't enough! Even me-I've been helping you all these years, and now I can't even afford your sister's tuition anymore, I-"

"I get it, Aunt Claire." Charisse cut her off, her voice flat. "You don't have to continue."

"Charisse, I'm not blaming you. I'm hurting too, okay?" Claire cried. "You're so young... you think I wanted you to marry some old guy in his fifties? But what else can we do? It's Clayton we're talking about! Even when your family was doing great, no one dared to mess with him-let alone now..."

"And after you agreed, then what?" Charisse's voice was steady, almost too calm.

"They said they'd be in touch. That was it."

Charisse stayed silent for a while before she finally said, "Alright, Aunt Claire. Go get some rest."

"But your dad..."

"I'll stay with him. You should go."

Claire tried a few more times to say something, but eventually left.

Charisse let out a long breath, slumping against the cold hospital wall like all her energy had drained out of her.

When she was four, Aunt Claire divorced and came to live with her mom. Her parents welcomed both her aunt and infant cousin into their home. For years, Aunt Claire and her cousin lived off her family.

Her parents had always been generous with them, giving them the best they could. After her mom passed when she was seventeen, Aunt Claire became the closest thing to family she had left besides her dad. Charisse had leaned on her a lot back then.

Even after the family went bankrupt, Aunt Claire still helped them out. But Charisse could feel it-things weren't the same anymore. That closeness was long gone.

And now, it hit her hard-outside of her dad, she had no one left.

She pulled out her phone and aimlessly scrolled through her contacts, not knowing who to call or talk to.

Just then, a news alert popped up: a female body was found near Clearstone River at 7 p.m. A comment below read, "Bet it's Clayton' people again."

But when she refreshed the page, the comment had vanished.

Clayton. A name that had basically become code for the devil in Draycott.