Who in their right mind would want a bar waitress, a sex worker to act as a mother figure, even if it is just for a day?

It sounded like a twisted joke.

"I..." I stammered, feeling the ground tilt beneath me. "Why me? Why would you want me to be a mom to your daughter?"

My voice cracked on the word "mom."

I wasn't even sure what shocked me the most, finding out he had a child, or that he wants me to pretend to be a Mom to his child.

"I just want you to be a mom to my daughter."

He repeated it, like it was nothing. Like he was asking me to hand him a napkin or lend him a cigarette. But I knew better. There was something behind his words. Something he was hiding.

A chill crawled up my spine.

What if he wants to hurt me?

"I'm not interested," I said firmly, my voice sharp with finality. I turned on my heel, went to grab my earrings, which I had left earlier in the bathroom. When I stepped out of the bathroom, I wasn't surprised to find the creepy man had left.

I grabbed my bag and walked out, not bothering to look back.

He must've figured out I knew about his plan.

The thought made me nauseous. What if I'd fallen for it? Played the part of the sweet pretend mom, followed him into his world, only to disappear into it like all those girls you hear about on the news?

I shivered.

But Madam Rose wouldn't hand me over to someone dangerous. Not willingly.

At least... I hoped not.

The bar pulsed with music and lights. My eyes scanned the crowd until I spotted Madam Rose in the distance.

The woman was a spectacle elegant in her early sixties with long curly hair cascading over her shoulders. Her makeup was always flawless, her nails perfectly fixed, and her lips gleamed with red gloss. She wore a tight, leather gown adorned with tiny sparkling studs, the kind of outfit that drew attention.

If you didn't know her age, you might think she is still in her thirties.

Each step Madam Rose took commanded the room. Everyone at the bar knew she was the owner. People might expect her to be stern, but she was far from it. She treated her customers with warmth and respect. That is why the bar was always packed to the brim.

I smiled as I approached her. Among all the waitresses and sex workers, Madam Rose had a soft spot for me. She knew I didn't enjoy the job, hell, she probably saw it in my eyes the very first day, but she also knew I needed the money. And she made sure I earned well.

"Madam Rose," I called, trying to keep my voice steady.

She turned, a brilliant smile spreading across her lips as her eyes landed on me. "Kayla, darling," she purred, her voice smooth like warm honey.

"Do you need a drink?" She asked me with a playful smile.

"No, Madam," I replied.

"So, how was it?" Madam Rose asked knowingly. Her smile faded a little, sensing the tension. She always knew I returned from those rooms with a heavy heart.

If only I had a degree. I could've had a better job...

"He paid well more than usual," Madam Rose said flatly."

She laughed, clearly impressed.

"Yes! I was honored to have him in my bar last night. Damien Cole is a real gentleman."

Damian Cole. The name echoed in my mind. It sounded familiar, but I pushed the thought away.

Still... there was something about him that didn't sit right.

"He's kind of... creepy," I murmured.

"He's not," Madam Rose replied firmly. "You only think so. Did he do something to you?"

"No... I mean" my words were cut off when Madam Rose's phone rang.

"We'll talk over the phone, dear," Madam Rose said, already walking away to take the call.

I sighed, my mood darkening again as I walked out of the bar, ignoring the lustful stares from the men loitering around, their hungry eyes tracking my every step.

I stepped out of the cab, tossed a few crumpled bills at the driver, and slammed the door behind me. The gate creaked as I pushed it open, and I dragged my feet toward my apartment, every step heavier than the last.

"Hey, sis!" Amaya called from the doorway, her usual too-cheerful tone scraping my nerves. She leaned in to kiss my cheek.

I jerked back. "Back off," I muttered without looking at her.

Her smile faltered, but she didn't say anything. She never did anymore. She was used to this version of me.

I walked past her and headed straight to the kitchen. My throat was dry, raw from holding back too many words I never got to scream. I opened the fridge and grabbed the coldest bottle I could find. The chill bit into my palm, grounding me for a second.

Amaya hovered nearby, silent.

I poured the water into a glass and drank like I hadn't had a drop in days. The coolness slid down my throat, but it did nothing to quench the fire that burned beneath my skin.

I could feel her watching me. I always could. She looked at me like I was some kind of tragic warrior, bruised and worn from battle. But she didn't understand. She couldn't. No one could.

Still, her eyes told the whole story. Guilt, and pain.

She knew what I did to keep this roof over our heads. She knew the nights I came home broken weren't just bad dreams, they were the price of survival. She knew. And that made it worse.

Because I didn't want her pity.

If it were up to me to decide, Kayla would never have to take that kind of job.

She wouldn't have to come home with tired eyes and broken silences. She wouldn't have to smile through pain or pretend like everything was okay when it clearly wasn't.

Kayla's always insisted on being the provider, no matter how hard it was.

But I know it's not easy for her.

I hear her cries through the thin walls. I see how she stares into space some nights, eyes wide open like sleep has forgotten her.

If only Dad weren't dead...

If only Mom weren't fighting for her life, each heartbeat would be a gamble.

Then maybe Kayla wouldn't have to shoulder so much alone. Maybe we'd be normal. Maybe she'd be free.

"Hey, Amaya," her voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

I blinked, startled. "I thought you were ignoring me."

"I wasn't. Not until I saw you completely lost in thought."

"Oh." I scratched the side of my head, awkwardly.

"You were probably thinking about your upcoming exams?" she asked gently.

"Yeah... I guess," I mumbled.

The truth was, I was thinking about her.

"Try your best to pass, okay?" she said, her voice soft and warm.

"I will. Even if it's just for your sake, for how hard you try every day." I gave her a small smile, and to my surprise, she smiled back.

That made something tight in my chest ease, just a little.

She always looked at me like I was her entire world. And sometimes, it felt like I was.

KAYLA

Amaya was strikingly beautiful. She had a narrow, straight nose, bold eyes that carried an unspoken fire, and long, dark hair that cascaded past her shoulders like a silken waterfall. At just eighteen, she was a high school senior who always stood out, brilliant, and determined. She consistently earned gold medals at the end of every term, making the whole school know her name.

I had made a silent promise to myself, Amaya would never drop out of school, not like I did. She would finish her education, get a degree, and live a life better than the one I was barely surviving.

I loved my little sister more than words could ever express.

"Where's Mom?" I asked.

"She's taking a nap," Amaya replied. I set my glass down with a light clink. And picked up my bag from the kitchen island, along with the half-empty bottle of water.

"I'll be in my room," I added, disappearing down the hallway.

I walked into my room, dropped my bag on the bed, and headed straight for my drawer without even taking off my shoes. My fingers went straight to the packet of contraceptive pills tucked beneath some random receipts and an old phone charger. I didn't think twice. I popped two into my mouth and swallowed them down with a gulp of water.

I hadn't had sex with him, not last night.

But I am used to this routine now. After every shift at the bar, I took them. It was my way of reclaiming some control. A habit I no longer questioned. Just another part of surviving.

The door creaked open behind me.

"So, what did you get for me?" Amaya's voice chimed in as she walked in without knocking, already digging into my bag like it belonged to her.

I sighed, not bothering to turn around. "I wasn't really in the right frame of mind coming back home. I didn't get you anything."

Amaya pouted behind me. I could hear it in her voice. "Why do you look so off?"

I didn't answer.

She kept rummaging for a second, then froze. "And what's this? Whose is it?"

I turned around. "What is what?"

She held up a card between two fingers like it was a dirty tissue. "It's a card. I found it in your bag."

"A card?" My stomach dropped as I snatched it from her hand. I didn't even look at it before I snapped, "What?! That creepy ass man dared to slip this into my bag?"

My hands tightened around the edges of the card as I flipped it over. Just a name, phone number, and an email address.

"What the fuck," I muttered, jaw clenching. "Now he seems even more creepy and annoying."

"What's wrong?" Amaya's voice shifted, more serious now.

"There's this man that came into the bar yesterday," I said, still staring at the card. "He asked me to spend the night with him. Then out of nowhere, he said he wanted me to pretend to be a mom to his daughter. Just for a day. Said there's some school event coming up, and he needs someone to be her mom."

Amaya blinked. "A mom? To his daughter? Who even is this guy? I don't get it."

I tossed the card onto the bed like it burned my fingers. "I don't know who the hell he thinks he is, but he was too calm about the whole thing. Like it wasn't even weird."

"You didn't accept the job?"

I shook my head.

Amaya sat down on the edge of the bed and tilted her head. "But just think about it... Being a mom for a day or two? That actually sounds way more decent than your work. At least you'd get a break from the bar."

She had a point. I hated that she had a point.

"And why didn't you go for it?" she continued. "Was the pay too small?"

"No, that's not it." I looked down at the floor, swallowing the bitter lump in my throat. "But who would want a..."

"A what?" Amaya pressed. "Ohhh... Is that why you think he's creepy?"

I didn't answer. Not because I didn't have a response, but because I didn't want to say it out loud. I didn't want to admit that deep down, I didn't think I was good enough for a pretend role like that.

"What's his name again?" she asked, grabbing for the card again.

I exhaled sharply. "It's right there. Didn't you see it?"

"You literally took it from me before I could read anything!" she snapped, snatching it back with a dramatic flair.

There was a pause.

"Damien Cole!" Amaya suddenly screamed, nearly making me jump out of my bed."

I winced and covered my ears. "Jesus, Amaya! Are you trying to deafen me or what?"

"Tell me... tell me he's a serial killer," I said breathlessly, my eyes wide and glittering like I'd just uncovered a national treasure.

She was already scrolling on her phone with one hand, still holding the card with the other. "Kayla. Damien. Freaking. Cole. Do you even know who this is?"

My heart sank. "Please don't say he's on some FBI wanted list..."

Amaya frowned. "No, she gasped. He's... he's a doctor. He owns the largest hospital in Los Angeles. He is super reclusive. He's also a billionaire apparently, a philanthropist."

I blinked slowly. "And you know this how...?"

"I stalk rich people for fun when I'm bored. Don't judge me."

And besides, "Damien Cole is my role model! I love him so much!"

Amaya said.

I stared. "What?"

"Yes! Don't tell me you don't know him!"

I dropped onto my bed, my mind a tangled mess. "Well I mean, his face did ring a bell when I saw him."

Amaya's eyes widened. "Wait, wait. Are you telling me Damien Cole is the one you spent the night with?"

I hesitated, my fingers curling into the sheets. "Yes, but it wasn't what you thought. We didn't have sex. Just a little romance."

Her mouth fell open like she'd just won the lottery. "Wow! You're so lucky! But hold on, didn't you also spend the night with Seth Nikolai like three days ago?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah."

I had recognized Seth the moment he walked into the bar. He was everywhere in news headlines, social media, flaunting his wealth and his endless rotation of women. Everyone knew who he was. He treated me like just another body. And honestly, that's what I was to him. That's what I was to most of them.

But Damien Cole was different. He didn't treat me like that. Not even close.

"Why did he ask you to be his daughter's mom?" Amaya pressed. "And you rejected it? Girl, I don't think you understand what you're walking away from."

She suddenly got up. "Where's your laptop?"

I pointed toward the drawer. "There."

She pulled it out and flipped it open, fingers flying across the keyboard. A moment later, the screen glowed with search results.

"Ohhh," she breathed, reading from the screen. "So he's divorced. That explains why he needs someone to play a mom role for the school event."

I stared at the hot photos of Damien Cole on screen. The profile said everything. A surgeon, CEO, and billionaire.

"So," Amaya leaned in, her voice low and tempting, "I guess you'll consider the offer now?"

I shook my head. "It's just for a day or two. And that's exactly why I won't do it."

"Why not?"

"He's a billionaire. He could have anything he wants. Someone way better to play the role of his daughter's mom. Don't you think he has a motive behind all of this?"

Amaya blinked, her voice softer now. "Maybe he just wants to help you."

"He already did," I said bitterly. By paying me three times my normal fee."

Her eyes fell to the card again, her fingers trembling as she clutched it.

"Come on, Kayla," she pleaded. "Just go for it. Please."

"I said no." I sat up and reached for the laptop, slamming it shut. "Now go and thrash that card away. No further arguments."

"Okay, fine!" she snapped, storming out with the card clutched in her hand.

I let out a heavy sigh and sank back into the mattress, pulling the blanket over me. And finally, exhaustion seeped into my bones. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

It was Saturday morning.

After serving our bedridden mother breakfast, both Amaya and I got to work around the house. I focused on cleaning the living room while Amaya took charge of the kitchen. The quiet hum of chores filled the small apartment.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang twice.

I wiped my hands on a cloth and rushed to the door, expecting it to be our neighbor, Mrs. Kelvin.

But the moment I opened the door, I froze.

Two large men in sleek black suits and dark sunglasses stood there. They were built like security guards or something worse. Their presence filled the small corridor like a looming shadow.

"Good morning," one of them said, his deep voice echoing in the hallway.

I instinctively took a step back. "Wrong address," I mumbled, starting to close the door.

"Are you Miss Kayla Matthews?" the taller one asked.

My hand froze on the doorknob. "Y-Yes," I replied cautiously.

"Good. Are you ready to leave now?" he asked.

"Leave? Leave for where?" I demanded, eyebrows furrowed.

"You agreed to meet Mr. Damian Cole today at 11 a.m. You accepted his offer," the second man explained calmly. "You also gave him your home address so we could come pick you up."

My heart raced. "What the hell are you talking about? I never called him. I never agreed to anything. I never" but stopped mid-sentence.

My eyes widened in sudden realization.

I hadn't thrashed the card myself.

"Amaya," I whispered, the name like a warning on her lips. Then louder, "Amaya!"

I dashed back into the living room, calling Amaya's name again with fury and disbelief.

Damian Cole.

Meanwhile, in my penthouse mansion, I sat with my back pressed into the leather chair. I was going through her information now. Her name stared back at me from the screen like it was daring me to admit what I already knew.

I exhaled sharply and set down my half-full glass of wine.

"I can't believe I'm only going through her information now," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I should've done this before I even made the damn offer."

The guilt gnawed at me. I stared blankly at the wineglass, the deep red swirling like the mess I was sinking into.

"I'm such a bad father."

The only reason he'd made the offer to her was for a school event. And it's a one-day thing since I can't find anyone to do the job for him. So my intention was to pay her, get it over with, and go our separate ways. That was the plan. She seemed calm and pretty. I noticed something in her that night... a heaviness, maybe even resentment toward her job. That was one of the reasons I didn't have sex with her.

When she called to accept the offer after shutting me down so strongly the first time, I was stunned. She didn't even sound mad even though I'd slipped my card into her bag without asking.

"Why did she change her mind?" I murmured aloud.

Before I could dig too deep into that thought, a small voice knocked me out of it.

"Daddy, may I come in?"