I had only gone to Celine, my fiance’s step-sister to collect a debt. That was it. Just money she owed.
But the next day, Argus, my fiance threw a thick ledger straight at me. It hit my chest and dropped to the floor like it weighed a thousand pounds.
“Pick it up,” he said, voice cold and sharp, like I was nothing more than something stuck under his shoe. “Go on. Read it carefully. Every single page.”
My hands shook as I bent down. Something felt wrong. Terribly wrong.
I opened it and my vision blurred for a second.
It was everything.
Every single thing he had ever spent on me in five years.
A custom-made gown worth fifty thousand dollars. A limited-edition supercar he said was “just a gift.” Diamond sets, private island vacations, luxury suites, chartered yachts. Even the smallest things were there… a gourmet dessert, late-night wine, flowers I thought meant something.
All written down.
Every cent counted.
Even the hotel rooms. Even the clothes he bought for me.
My fingers tightened around the pages. My chest felt tight. Was this… what I meant to him?
“I’ll be fair,” Argus said, leaning back like this bored him, slowly swirling the wine in his glass. “We split the hotel costs. I’m not unreasonable.”
Fair?
My throat felt dry.
“After deducting the fifty thousand Celine owes you,” he continued, finally looking at me, eyes sharp and cold, “you still owe me 52 million. One month. Transfer it.”
Fifty-two million.
My lips parted but no sound came out at first. “Argus… I never asked you for those things. You gave them to me, I didn’t—”
“I didn’t what?” he cut in softly, but it felt worse than shouting. “Didn’t enjoy them? Didn’t accept them?”
“That’s not what I mean, I just…” I swallowed. Why couldn’t I explain it? “I thought… it wasn’t like this.”
“Then what was it like?” His gaze locked on mine, pressing, suffocating. “Say it properly, Dahlia. Or do you not even know what you were thinking back then?”
I froze.
What was I thinking?
That he loved me?
That those things weren’t debts waiting to be collected?
A laugh broke the silence.
“Dahlia sorry, Argus really kept receipts,” someone said, amused. “Do you even know how much fifty million is?”
Another man’s voice joined in, sharper. “She doesn’t. She was just warming his bed and playing house. Thought she got lucky.”
Laughter spread across the room.
My ears rang.
“Honestly,” another man smirked, eyeing me up and down, “fifty-two million isn’t that much. Dahlia, if you serve me tonight and don’t disappoint, I might just give you sixty million. Easy, right?”
More laughter.
I felt like I was shrinking, like the air was being sucked out of my lungs.
Argus didn’t stop them.
He didn’t even look annoyed.
“That’s none of my concern,” he said lightly. “How she gets the money has nothing to do with me.”
Something inside my chest cracked.
“Argus…” My voice came out weak, barely there. “I didn’t humiliate Celine. She lied to you. I wouldn’t do that. Why would I—”
“Why wouldn’t you?” he replied, tilting his head slightly, almost curious. “You really want to argue about that?”
My body went cold.
The memories came back, sharp and cruel. After Celine came back from overseas... I was late cooking for her. Just late. The food wasn’t even bad. And Argus? He locked me outside. Three days. No food. No water. I remember sitting on the cold floor, my hands shaking, wondering if I was going to pass out.
The second time, I accidentally broke her tablet. It slipped from my hands. That was it. Argus had someone grab me, and the next thing I knew, my arm was in a cast and I couldn’t even lift it without crying.
The third time, I wasn’t even doing anything wrong. I was just sad. And Celine made me dress up, stand in front of her friends, perform like I was some kind of joke. I almost collapsed that night, but no one stopped her.
Now I only wanted the fifty thousand Celine begged me for my father's treatment. But she cried, said she had no one else, and promised she would pay me back. And this… this was what I got.
Dragged here.
Humiliated.
Reduced to nothing.
“Dahlia,” Argus said, his voice pulling me back like a chain around my neck. “If you can’t pay on time, I’ll take you to court. And trust me, you won’t survive that.”
My legs felt weak.
When I thought about my father lying in that hospital bed, machines breathing for him and bills piling up like they were waiting to bury me too, I forced a smile. It felt wrong on my face, like it didn’t belong to me anymore.
I turned to the man sitting beside Argus, “If I… if I serve you well tonight, will you really give me fifty-two million?”
For a second, everything went quiet. Then the man lit up like he had just won something.
“Of course I will,” he said quickly, leaning forward, eyes dragging over me in a way that made my skin crawl. “Fifty-two million isn’t a problem. But you have to earn it, right?”
He glanced at Argus.
Argus didn’t stop him. He just sat there, swirling his drink, watching me like I was nothing.
That was all the permission the man needed.
“Waiter,” he called out, snapping his fingers. “Bring thirty glasses. The strongest you’ve got.”
My stomach dropped. Thirty?
The bottles came quickly, lined up in front of me like a punishment I couldn’t escape.
“Dahlia, if you finish all of these tonight, every drop, I’ll transfer the fifty-two million immediately. No tricks. You’ve got my word.”
My fingers curled. Could I even survive that? Did it matter?
I picked up the first glass without thinking anymore.
The moment the liquid hit my throat, it burned. No, it tore through me, like it was ripping me open from the inside. My stomach twisted violently and I almost choked, my eyes stinging as tears threatened to fall.
I forced it down.
Don’t stop. You can’t stop.
I could hear them laughing. Feel their eyes on me. Disgust. Amusement. Curiosity. Especially his.
But I didn’t look at Argus. I couldn’t.
I just kept drinking.
Glass after glasses.
My hands shook, my vision blurred, and cold sweat soaked through my back. At some point, I couldn’t even taste it anymore. It was just pain, raw and endless.
Why am I still doing this?
Because I had no choice. Because I needed the money. Because without it, my father…
No.
I finished the last glass and slammed it down on the table. The room spun, my head felt like it was about to split open.
I forced myself to stand straight, even if my knees almost gave out. I reached out my hand toward the man.
“M-money,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Y-you said… you’d give it to me.”
The man didn’t answer right away. He turned to Argus instead, smirking.
“Argus, what do you think? Should I pay her? She did pretty well.”
Argus looked at me, “Give it to her. It’s just fifty-two million. Think of it as charity.”
Charity.
The word hit harder than anything else tonight.
The man laughed and pulled out a bank card, tossing it to the floor at my feet.
“Here. Don’t say I’m not generous.”
I bent down slowly, my fingers trembling as I picked it up. I didn’t say thank you.
I just turned and walked out as fast as I could, almost running.
My father.
With this money, his surgery could finally go through.
He would live.
He had to.
—
By the time I got to the hospital and paid the remaining fees, my hands were still shaking. I rushed to the doctor, my voice uneven.
“The payment is done. Please… you can proceed with the treatment now, right? Please save him.”
The doctor looked at me, and something in his eyes made my chest tighten.
“I’m sorry, Miss Dahlia. Mr. Argus gave strict orders to stop all treatment for your father. We can’t go against that.”
