Chapter 3
The Imperial Club was the priciest spot in the city, where money burned faster than anywhere else.
I was stuck in a dress that barely fit, the seam under my arm already splitting.
The security guard at the entrance stopped me, sizing me up. "If you're here to beg, use the back door."
"Joe Parker sent for me," I muttered, my head down and my voice barely above a whisper.
The guard looked surprised for a moment, then spoke into his walkie-talkie.
Soon, laughter echoed from inside. "Let her in. Mr. Parker said tonight's fun has arrived."
I pushed open the ballroom door and was instantly hit by a rush of warmth and the heavy scent of perfume.
Under the crystal chandelier, Wiona stood out in a designer gown, surrounded by admirers.
The pink diamond at her throat glittered. Joe had paid 10 million for it.
Joe lounged at the main spot on the sofa, absentmindedly playing with a lighter.
When Joe saw me come in, he lifted his chin and pointed at the serving tray beside him, ordering me to start serving.
Clenching my teeth, I walked over and picked up the tray, swallowing my pride.
Those guys who used to follow me around were all cozying up to Wiona now.
"Wiona's got that killer vibe. Some washed-up rich girl could never compare."
"Exactly. No matter how one dresses up a nobody, she'll never be a queen."
They made sure I heard every word, not even bothering to keep their voices down.
I moved numbly through the crowd, pouring drinks and handing out napkins to my former lackeys.
Suddenly, someone tripped me up. I didn't see it coming, and I stumbled forward.
The tray flew from my hands.
Red wine and juice drenched Wiona's pristine white gown.
Wiona screamed, her face drained of color.
Everyone froze. The room went silent.
I crashed onto broken glass, and my knee started bleeding right away. The pain made me gasp.
Before I could even get up, someone shoved me aside.
Joe hurried over.
He fussed over Wiona's dress, worry written all over his face. "Wiona, are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"
He didn't even look at me, while my blood was soaking into the carpet.
Wiona gazed at the stains, eyes glistening, lip quivering—the very picture of devastation.
She said, "Joe, I'm okay. But this dress was your gift to me. It's such a waste.
"Tonight's supposed to be my big night. Did Jennifer do this on purpose?"
Joe turned around and gave me a frosty glare. "Jennifer, apologize."
Bracing myself against the pain, I lowered myself amidst the shards of glass. Every time I shifted, the glass twisted deeper into my flesh.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my head bowed and my voice shaking.
"I can't hear you," Joe said. "What, too weak to speak up?"
"I'm sorry!" I shouted, tears stinging my eyes.
"That's not sincere enough." Joe stood up, towering over me.
Wiona slipped her arm through Joe's, smiling sweetly. "I heard Jennifer was a principal dancer. Such talent."
She gestured at the shards of glass covering the floor. "Why not have her dance for us? A little performance to make amends. Everyone's dying to see."
The whole room went dead silent.
Dancing on broken glass?
I jerked my head up at Joe, desperation choking my voice. "You capture movement on canvas. You know a dancer is nothing without her feet."
Joe lazily swirled his drink, a cold smirk on his face. "A dancer? Come on. You're nothing but a sellout who'll do anything for money."
He shot me a cold look and barked, "Dance."
The crowd started egging me on, shouting, "Dance! Dance!"
Their eyes were hungry, predatory.
I stared into Joe's icy, lifeless eyes.
I knew he was getting his revenge. He was waiting for me to plead, waiting for me to lose it.
But my mom was counting on me for the money. I took a shaky breath and forced myself to stand up.
I kicked off those heels that were killing my feet and stepped barefoot onto the sharp shards of glass.
I gritted my teeth, not letting a single sound escape.
I struck a pose and spun gracefully, starting the dance.
With every barefoot step, shards of glass pierced deeper into my flesh, leaving bloody footprints all over the floor.
The pain sent cold sweat pouring down my body, and my vision went dark, but I kept smiling.
I saw Joe's veins pop out along his forearm as he gripped his glass, his knuckles turning white.
He locked his gaze on the blood beneath my feet, but instead of the satisfaction he'd expected, his face twisted with mounting frustration.
Wiona nestled against him, a smirk playing at her lips as she discreetly filmed me with her phone.
The music stopped. I couldn't stay on my feet any longer. My body went limp, and I crashed down hard onto the blood-slicked floor.