Chapter 2
Money was all that mattered, even if it cost me my life.
Bang!
A thunderous crash drowned out the music.
Christopher suddenly shot to his feet and kicked the marble coffee table in front of him, flipping it over.
The marble surface shattered into pieces, liquor and fruit plates spilling all over the floor.
His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving as he locked his gaze on me.
"Vivian Lindth, you make me sick!"
He said it through gritted teeth, his voice shaking, not even realizing it himself.
I stopped moving, standing in the middle of the mess, and stared at him with a calm, numb expression.
"Seriously, Mr. Tales? Isn't that what women like me are here for, to make sure you bosses have your fun?"
He strode over, grabbed me by the throat, and pinned me brutally against the wall.
"You'd risk your life for money? Where's that untouchable pride of yours now?" he spat.
His grip tightened around my neck, cutting off my air, but I just kept that smile plastered on my face.
"Can pride pay the bills? If you think I'm still not filthy enough, Mr. Tales, why not throw in a little more cash?" I shot back.
He stared into my dead, empty eyes, then suddenly let go of me like he'd just touched something disgusting, his voice exploding with rage.
"Get out! All of you!" he roared.
The guests scrambled out of there, tripping over themselves in a panic.
Soon, it was just the two of us left in the huge, empty room.
I slumped down against the wall, head bowed, picking up the bills one by one amid the blood and shards of glass.
"Vivian, do you have no shame left?" he roared from above me.
I stuffed the last blood-stained bill into my neckline, then looked up at him with a smile.
"Shame? Didn't you tear that to shreds yourself four years ago, Mr. Tales?" I shot back.
Christopher froze, rage and embarrassment swirling in his eyes. He kicked the door open and stormed out, not even bothering to look back.
The door slammed shut, and my fake smile dropped instantly. I limped into the bathroom, gritting my teeth as I dug the glass shards out of my feet and wrapped them up with a wad of tissues, barely caring if it was neat.
Right then, my phone rang—it was Stacy Smith, the floor manager.
"Vivian, tomorrow night there's a high-roller charity party on a cruise in international waters. They're looking for someone who can really let loose and entertain. If you take the job, you'll get a guaranteed 15 thousand dollars just for showing up, plus all the tips from the guests. You could easily pull in 30 thousand dollars in one night. But... you might get roughed up a bit."
I glanced down at my feet, still bleeding, and replied flatly.
"Stacy, I'm in. If the money's right, I don't care if it costs me my life. Getting hurt is nothing."
What I didn't see coming was that the so-called top-tier cruise party, with its guaranteed 15 thousand dollars, was hosted by none other than Christopher.
"Alright, gentlemen, tonight's charity dart game comes with a twist—the target is a living, breathing beauty," the host announced, his voice booming through the mic.
Up in the cruise ship's lavish top-deck ballroom, his words filled the entire hall.
I was locked inside a huge golden cage, my hands tied behind me to a metal post.
A shiny red apple was balanced right on top of my head.
Outside the cage, a crowd of well-dressed tycoons stood, each gripping a few sharp darts in their hands.
If they hit the apple, they'd donate 30 thousand dollars to the so-called charity fund.
But if they accidentally hit me, that would be 150 thousand dollars.
Of course, half of that 150,000 dollars would end up in my pocket.
I took this job because the cash came fast.
Whoosh!
The first dart zipped right past my ear, striking the iron bars behind me and throwing up a shower of sparks.
I instinctively flinched, cold sweat soaking through my flimsy costume.
"Ah, missed it! Mr. Lowe, your aim's terrible!" someone called out, laughing.
The crowd erupted in laughter.
Just then, the doors to the ballroom swung open from the outside.
The noisy crowd instantly fell silent, instinctively making way for Christopher.
He walked in, dressed in a perfectly tailored silver-gray suit, his steps slow and deliberate.
On his arm was a woman in a custom Chanel gown.
Nellie Gray—the city's top socialite, daughter of Hanson Gray, the second-largest shareholder of Tales Group, and now his fiancée.
Christopher's gaze swept casually across the room, finally settling on me, trapped inside the golden cage.
He paused for a moment, then a subtle smirk curled at the corner of his lips.
He walked straight up to the host and took the microphone.
"Isn't just playing darts a little dull, everyone?
"Why don't I tell you a story to spice things up?"
I closed my eyes, my nails digging painfully into my palm.
"Some of you might not recognize the woman in the cage. But if I mention that viral court video from four years ago, the one that blew up all over the internet, I bet you all remember."
Everyone sucked in a breath, shocked.
"It's her! That shameless judge's daughter!" someone shouted.