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3. HATE

She wouldn't even look at his face if she didn't need to.

LAYLA | NOW

Layla held her breath, waiting for him to say something—anything—other than silently observing her. His eyes scanned her entire body, and he didn't bother to be discreet. Why would he when he feared nothing? She had seen it all before: the anger in a man's gaze before they knocked her down, the lust in their eyes while she was working in the bar, the triumph in their smiles when all she could do was glare at their filthy hands. But the way he looked at her was different. There was nothing in his eyes. No emotion, no judgment, no softness, no expression, and she hated that she couldn't predict a man's mood. That made her more scared. He could do anything, and Layla wouldn't be able to predict it, let alone escape it.

But if there's anything her past taught her, it's not to show weakness. A hint of weakness would lure the predators. So she straightened her spine and didn't avert her gaze. Something that felt like amusement flashed across his face, or did she imagine it?

"It takes some nerve to stalk me." His voice was casual, nonchalant, and so deep that she felt it in her stomach.

"Des... desperation." She said hoarsely, feeling ashamed of how her voice shook.

He just stared at her. He didn't say anything, and he didn't ask for anything. He wasn't going to do anything, and at this point, she simply wanted to cry. She felt tired, so tired, and everything she did was fruitless. Tears stung her eyes before she realized it. Gone was the brave girl facade.

"Please..." she begged. "My little girl has no option." And she hated begging. She would do anything for Lilly.

"On your knees," he ordered.

A shudder passed through her spine. She knew where this was going. But if that's what it took to save Lilly, then so be it. She wasted no time before she was on her knees before him, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. He could do whatever he wanted, and he would go out without a care in the world, while she would have to do the walk of shame later, with the world staring at her like she was just another whore. SHE IS NOT A WHORE. But she would become one.

He took a step closer, making her eyes squeeze shut, spilling the tears she had held back. She was ashamed, so ashamed, and she was a mother.

"You would sell your body for your daughter?" he asked her, his gaze burning into the top of her head.

"If that's what it takes for you to help a little girl," she answered.

"If you're trying to gain sympathy by using your little girl, you're doing an awful job."

Her nails dug into her palms, feeling the rage course through her body. "I wouldn't even look at your face if it wasn't for her."

"Last time I checked, you were supposed to beg."

Just like that, he showed her her place and his true colors. They're all right. He is a monster after all.

She looked at him, tears shining brightly in her eyes, and his eyes squinted at her. "What does it take to get you to agree?"

He took a step forward. "Take off my belt," he ordered, and her heart skipped a beat. Dread filled her as he waited, raising a brow. So she fumbled with her trembling hands, trying hard to control her tears.

*FOR LILLY.

*FOR HER LITTLE GIRL.  *

FOR THE PROMISE OF GIVING HER THE WORLD.

Zaley cupped her chin with his strong hand, raising her head to look at him. His thumb traced the length of her lips, and she trembled in response. "You would do anything?" he asked her again.

She nodded desperately, completely at his mercy. "It wasn't a big surgery," she tried to assure him while kneeling between his legs.

*Please, say yes.  *

Please, save her.

"Hmm..." He shoved a finger into her mouth, and she froze. In her mind, it seemed so easy to blow him and offer her body. But she hadn't done this in years. She wasn't ready. She will never be.

"You are broken," He said without an ounce of emotion in his voice, his face as stoic as she had ever seen. "What do I do with a broken doll?"

And she had no answer for that. She was a lost cause. She had no hope, no future, no wishes, no self. She was living because another life depended on her. What would have happened if Lilly wasn't there? She knew the answer to that. She would have ended this misery if not for Lilly.

"What's your name?" he questioned her.

She swallowed a gulp before answering. Hope bloomed in her chest. "La... Layla." He was inquiring. He was trying to know. Would that make him want to agree? She just had to wait.

Another hum came from his throat before he stepped back, buckled his belt, and left her there on her knees without looking back. His touch on her lips still burned, and whatever hope had bloomed withered quicker than it had grown. He left. He left her one more time. Layla balanced herself on the counter and got up. That's when other women rushed into the bathroom with judgmental looks on their faces. Some who were hardened by the same life she had been leading smirked, and some who were not, pitied her. And there were the remaining women who never imagined living like her and had everything at their feet, disgusted by her. She officially became a member of the women who threw themselves at the big fish, deep inside the ocean in the hope of catching pearls.

She watched him climb into a black SUV while six other SUVs followed him. He wasn't the president; he wasn't a political leader; he wasn't a celebrity. He was just a crime lord, and the power he held over the city was unmatched.

She had failed again. One hour of makeup to look presentable for this club, one hour of travel, one hour of dealing with a whining Lilly who didn't want her to go and cried when she stepped out of the house—all for nothing. Another day gone, and she still hadn't found a source to help Lilly with her illness. What happens now? What will he do when she follows him again?

What stopped him from taking what he wanted when she was on her knees? What did she do wrong? She obeyed, didn't she? She endured everything. Then why?

Layla threw up everything she had for dinner after she reached home. She hated that club, those sick old men, their filthy hands, and most of all, she hated a certain blue-eyed guy who had her on her knees without a blink of an eye. She hated herself more for being helpless. What would she have changed to rewrite her life? Nothing. Because it wouldn't have given her Lilly, and she was a shell of a human without her. She was selfish in that way. She needed her daughter more than her daughter needed her.

"Mom..." Lilly called from behind, and Layla quickly washed her face to hide her tears. Then she plastered a smile on her face as if it were the most beautiful day.

"Hey, Sprinkles. Why aren't you sleeping?"

Lilly walked over to her, wrapping her little hands around her waist. "You said we would go to the park today," she complained.

Layla's chest tightened. There were so many promises she had made and couldn't keep, either because she had no money or because of Lilly's illness.

"I know. But something came up, and I had to go. Next time," she said.

Lilly nodded and closed her eyes. She would sleep like that sometimes because she didn't have the energy to argue or complain like other kids. Layla picked her up, hugging her daughter. Her back ached, but she dismissed the existence of pain like she dismissed many things that made her cry. Lilly was all that mattered.

"I promise," she whispered silently, knowing well that she could break it too, but she had no other choice but to hold on to blind hope; hope that they'll get better, and someday, they'll make it out of the city and not look back.

The ring of her phone woke her up. She didn't like the sound of notifications, but she wasn't a teenager anymore. With Lilly, it was a necessity to be on her toes and check her phone all the time. She looked at the email she received, rubbing her eyes. It was an interview call from God knows which company. She had applied for so many jobs that she had lost count and hope after all she received was rejection. You don't get a job easily without a degree.

This time, it was different. They were willing to interview her and asked her to go to the mentioned address at 11 AM sharp. She sat up abruptly, reading it again and again. She really got an interview call. But the big L sign at the bottom made her jump. It was at Z's Towers, in his real estate technology department, for a technical writer role.

It was at ZED Corporation!

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