Slave Of A Billionaire

In the dead of night, the luxurious suite at the Dragons Roost Club was shrouded in darkness.

Emily Thompson held back tears of humiliation as she walked barefoot towards the bedside, shedding her clothes layer by layer. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting a faint glow on the bed where a dark silhouette loomed, breathing heavily in the shadows.

Stripping off her outer robe, Emily stood exposed, her once smooth and fair skin now dry and roughened from her time in prison, covered in goosebumps.

Her mind replayed her stepmothers voice, Heather Autumn: "Your face has aged well despite your years behind bars."

"Your mothers condition has worsened; the doctors say she wont last more than three days without surgery."

"I can pay for her operation, but in return, you must spend a night with a man."

"Im not an unkind stepmother; one night for a life— isnt that a fair deal?"

Desperate to save her mother, Emily agreed without hesitation. Heather kept her promise, bailed her out that very day, and delivered her to this place.

She recalled overhearing Heather and her daughters conversation outside the door.

"Mom, letting her go to that dying man, will it work?"

Dying...

Emily held her breath, finally reaching the bedside. The man on the bed lay on his side, his back to her. Just as she stood there, unsure of what to do, the man seemed to sense her presence, suddenly flipped over, and reached for her.

"Ah!"

Emily let out a cry as the world spun around her, and she was thrown onto the bed, a dark figure pressing down on her.

The air was thick with the smell of alcohol. This man, whom Heather had called "dying," was surprisingly strong, pinning Emilys wrists above her head with one hand and lowering himself upon her.

Emily looked up, her body trembling uncontrollably, tears of humiliation trailing down her temples, disappearing into the pillow, silent and unnoticeable.

She bit her lower lip so hard to suppress any sound that blood began to well up.

The air grew heavy with their intermingled breaths. As the mans hand slowly moved towards her waist, Emily finally couldnt help but twist and dodge, and the man stopped abruptly.

"First time?"

His voice was tinged with desire, yet still undeniably magnetic.

Emily remained silent, and he showed no more mercy. Until, in a final loss of control, Emily could bear no more and fainted.

She awoke to a body wracked with pain. Emily groaned and looked around; the extravagant suite was empty except for her robe scattered on the floor beside the bed.

She made her way to the bathroom, each step pulling at her sore body.

In the mirror, the womans exquisite form was covered in bruises, a testament to the violence of the night before.

Tears slid down her cheeks as Emily washed her body over and over again...

An hour later, she finally returned to the Thompson home.

Heather was lounging on a divan, sipping tea, looking relaxed. The once familiar home had changed beyond recognition. Emily refrained from looking around and extended her hand towards Heather, her voice trembling.

"You promised me money in exchange for what I did. Where is it?"

After a few seconds, Heather put down her teacup and finally turned to look at her, her eyes filled with contempt, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Money? What money?"

Emily took an incredulous step forward, the discomfort in her body now at its peak. Her head throbbed, and her eyes, red with anger, fixed on the despicable woman in front of her.

"The money for my mothers surgery, you promised—"

"Your mother is already dead."

Heathers voice was as venomous as a snake, wrapping around Emilys heart and stealing her breath.

"Say that again!" Emily grabbed her arm, her grip tightening.

"I said shes dead, while you, the dutiful daughter, were busy pleasing a man in bed, she closed her eyes!"

Heather flung her arm, and Emily fell to the ground, tears streaming down her face. She could no longer withstand the dual assault on her body and spirit and finally closed her eyes.

Emily had a long dream.

In the dream, her mother sat in the garden, smiling at her tenderly: "Wanwan, come here."

"Mom—"

Emily jolted awake, the first sensation being the familiar chill.

Back in the cell, the hard bunk, the musty, foul odor of the air...

Emily sat on the bed, her mind a blur.

Was it all a dream?

At that moment, a woman in a prison uniform, fat and imposing, sat on the opposite bed, jutting her chin at Emily, her voice harsh yet