Chapter 1

Aria’s POV

I never expected my life to turn out like this.

To sell my body just to survive.

No, I wasn’t a prostitute.

I was a stripper.

I get paid to dance half naked in front of rich fat men who don’t have better use for their money.

Except for one guy. Who was tall, handsome, neat. Every girl wanted his attention.

But he didn’t spend, he watched. He sipped his wine and he made me the most hated girl in the club. Because whenever he leaves, he drops a generous tip for me alone.

Unfortunately, tonight he wasn’t among the crowd.

My movements were mechanical, detached, as I gripped the pole and swung my body to the music.

The bassline thumped relentlessly, vibrating through the club’s walls and into my chest. The air was thick with the mingling stench of alcohol, sweat, and horniness.

Under the neon glow of the lights, shadows danced across the stage, accentuating the sharp angles and curves of my form.

I was dressed.in nothing but panties, and a bra that had silver strings, my long wavy hair moved as I moved.

I moved because I had to.

Not because I felt anything. Not because I wanted to.

This was survival, cold, hollow survival.

Each set blurred into the next, a monotonous cycle of forced smiles, swaying hips, and prying eyes. The crowd was predictable, their whispers slurred, their stares hungry.

Their attention used to bother me, but now it barely registered.

Not after today.

Six months. That was the verdict.

Six months, maybe less.

The words echoed in my mind like a funeral song as I spun, clutching the pole to steady myself. My legs wavered, threatening to betray me.

Stage two cancer.

I was supposed to fight it, but how could I?

My body had already betrayed me. My life had already crumbled. Stripping was never supposed to be my reality, yet here I was, dancing for strangers just to stay afloat.

De Stone had become my prison, its red walls as stifling as my own fears.

How can I survive when I was already lost?

The applause rose as my set ended, a hollow sound that barely reached me.

I bent to gather the scattered bills at my feet, stuffing the crumpled notes into my bra.

The ache in my back and legs felt distant, overshadowed by the ache deep in my chest.

“Aria, you good?” Lila’s voice broke through the noise as I stepped off the stage. She stood by the dressing room door, her arms crossed, her sharp gaze scanning me.

“I’m fine,” I lied, brushing past her as I headed to my locker. My fingers trembled as I unzipped my bag.

“You look like hell,” Lila shot back, softer this time, stepping closer. “What happened at the doctor’s today?”

I froze. My throat tightened. “It’s nothing,” I muttered, avoiding her eyes.

She scoffed. “Nothing doesn’t have you looking like this, babe. Spill it.”

Her persistence broke me. “Stage two,” I whispered, staring at the open locker. The words felt foreign, heavy. “Six months to live… maybe less.”

The silence between us stretched. When I dared to glance at her, her tough mask had slipped. “Shit,” she muttered, the word barely audible. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “Mom still needs me, and there’s no money for treatment. There’s no way to fix this.”

Lila reached for me, her hands gripping my shoulders as she pulled me into a hug. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she murmured.

Her warmth made my chest ache. “I do,” I whispered, pulling away. “You’ve already done too much for me. I can’t put this on you, too.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Just… promise me you won’t do anything reckless.”

I nodded, though the words felt hollow. “I won’t. I just need to get out of here.”

Without waiting for her reply, I grabbed my bag and slipped out the back door, the chill of the night air stinging my skin.

But the truth was, I wasn’t going home.

I needed Perkins.

My legs moved instinctively through the damp streets. My body ached from hours on stage, my mind spinning in a haze of exhaustion and despair. But I needed to see him. Perkins was my constant, my anchor. If anyone could make this nightmare feel less suffocating, it was him.

By the time I reached his building, the flickering porch light cast eerie shadows on the steps. My heart raced as I climbed them, my fingers brushing against the door. It was ajar, the wood creaking slightly under my touch.

“Perkins?” I called softly, my voice trembling.

Silence.

I stepped inside, the faint glow of the TV illuminating the dark living room. Something felt wrong.

The air was too still, too cold.

As I moved deeper into the apartment, I noticed it, a trail of clothes thrown across the floor.

A jacket. A woman’s blouse.

My stomach twisted.

No.

Not this.

Not tonight.

The faint sound of laughter drifted from the bedroom, muffled but unmistakable. My feet felt like lead as I approached, every step dragging me closer to what I already knew.

I stopped in the doorway.

The bed was unmade, the sheets tangled around two figures. Perkins’s bare back, the curve of another woman’s body against his.

The world tilted.

My breath caught in my throat, a sharp pain slicing through my chest.

Six months.

I had six months to live. And now, it felt like I had already died.

I hesitated, my heart pounding against my ribcage. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to turn around, to walk away, but I couldn’t. Slowly, I pushed the door wider.

Perkins was there.

He wasn’t alone.

Tangled in the sheets beside him was another woman, Maya, a dancer from De Stone. Her bare skin glistened under the dim light, her body pressed against his as she giggled and nipped at his neck.

The moment stretched unbearably, each second slamming into me like a blow. Maya’s laughter trailed off as her gaze flicked toward me. Her smile vanished, replaced by something like mild annoyance, as if I were the one intruding.

Perkins turned lazily, his hand still resting on her thigh. His eyes met mine, wide but not guilty. Not even surprised.

“Aria…” he started, his tone clipped and irritated, like a man caught in a minor inconvenience.

I felt frozen, my chest constricting as the weight of the scene crushed me. My voice cracked when I finally spoke. “What the hell is this?”

“What does it look like?” he said, his voice flat, his expression almost bored.

“You’re cheating on me?” My words trembled, disbelieving.

Perkins sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Aria, calm down. Don’t make this a thing.”

“Make this a thing?” My voice rose, sharp with disbelief. “I came here to tell you—” I stopped myself, the lump in my throat too painful to swallow. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell him now.

“Tell me what?” He stood, completely unbothered, his broad shoulders relaxed as Maya draped herself across him like a satisfied cat.

The words I had wanted to say earlier stuck in my throat. I couldn’t bring myself to share them—not with him, not like this.

Perkins shrugged, his lips curling into a sneer. “You’re overreacting. This… us, it’s not working. You’ve been dragging me down for months, Aria. I need someone who’s got their life together, not…” He waved a dismissive hand in my direction. “This.”

“This?” My chest tightened, the tears welling in my eyes threatening to spill over.

“You’re exhausting,” he said coldly, his voice cutting through me like a blade. “All the whining about your mom, your job, your money problems. It’s too much. And honestly, you’re not even fun anymore. You’re depressing. Why would I stick around for that?”

His words landed like punches, each one knocking the air out of my lungs. I staggered back, unable to breathe.

“After everything I’ve done for you…” I whispered, barely able to form the words.

“You’re not my responsibility,” he snapped. “I’m done with this. Move on, Aria.”

I stared at him, numb, unable to process the betrayal staring back at me. Behind him, Maya smirked, her voice dripping with mockery. “You heard him, sweetheart. Time to let go.”

I turned and ran.

—

The city blurred as I stumbled through the streets, the cold biting at my skin. My tears mixed with the rain that had begun to fall, streaking my face as I choked back sobs.

How had I been so blind?

I had given Perkins everything, my time, my trust, my body, and he had tossed me aside like I was nothing.

My legs carried me forward, one step at a time, though I didn’t know where I was going. I just needed to get away. From Perkins. From De Stone.

From the suffocating mess of my life.

When I reached my building, my fingers fumbled with my keys. My hands were numb, trembling as I tried to find the right one. Finally, I pushed the door open, desperate for the safety of home.

But something was wrong.

The living room was dark, except for the flicker of a streetlamp outside the window. The faint smell of cigarettes lingered in the air, foreign and unsettling. I froze, my heart pounding as my gaze swept the room.

The furniture was overturned. The drawers from the console were spilled across the floor. A chill ran down my spine as dread pooled in my stomach.

“Mom?” I called out, my voice barely audible.

No response.

I hurried down the hallway, my feet barely making a sound against the warped wooden floor. Her bedroom door was ajar, light spilling into the dark hallway. I shoved it open, my breath catching in my throat.

Two men stood over my mother’s frail, unconscious form. Their shadows loomed across the walls, and the air felt suffocating, heavy with malice.

One of them turned, his face hidden beneath the brim of a cap, his voice sharp and unforgiving. “Where’s your father?”

I couldn’t speak. My throat closed as fear rooted me to the spot.

“Your father owes us,” he growled, stepping closer. “And you’re going to pay.”