chapter 3

Sophia looked at him and said,

“Luca, I don’t like you.

Besides money, what else do you actually have?”

He leaned back into the leather sofa,

whiskey turning slowly in his glass.

A faint smile touched his lips.

“I have the power to make Marco’s entire family disappear.

Does that count?”

The color drained from Marco’s face.

“You’re threatening him?” Sophia stood up.

“I’m reminding you.”

Luca finally lifted his eyes.

“Sophia, you enjoy playing princess with poor boys.

I won’t interfere.

But don’t take it too far.”

The private room fell into dead silence.

Then Sophia laughed.

“You think money gives you the right to control everything?

You think everyone will bow to you for money?”

I quietly placed the drinks on the table, preparing to slip away.

“You.”

Luca’s voice stopped me.

He pointed at me.

“Come here.”

I walked over.

Luca studied me for a moment, then reached into his jacket and took out a pink diamond ring.

He looked at me and said,

“I’ll give you money.

Be my girlfriend.”

Sophia spun around, staring at him, then at me.

Marco’s eyes widened.

Everyone in the room froze.

I looked at Luca.

His expression was calm,

but in his eyes was something sharp and calculating.

I knew exactly what he was doing.

He was humiliating Sophia.

Using me to humiliate her.

I should have refused.

I should have thrown the drink in his face and walked out.

But my mother had received a critical condition notice from the hospital the day before.

They told me that if I couldn’t pay,

they would disconnect her ventilator.

So I answered without hesitation:

“Okay.”

Sophia’s beautiful eyes widened in disbelief.

“Elena, you’ve really shown your true colors.

You’ll sell yourself for money?”

I didn’t look at her.

I looked at Luca.

“How much?”

He smiled.

He took out his checkbook, wrote swiftly, tore out the page, and handed it to me.

“One million.

As a deposit.”

I accepted the check without my hands shaking.

One million dollars.

Enough to cover my mother’s medical bills.

Enough to breathe again.

Luca stood up and stepped in front of me.

He was taller than me by a full head.

His shadow completely swallowed me.

“If either of us decides this game is no longer fun,” he said,

“we’re free to walk away.

No forcing.”

I lifted my head and met his eyes.

“I won’t walk away.”

Because I had no choice.

I needed the money.

And I loved him.

He placed his hand on my waist and turned me around,

so I was facing everyone in the room —

including the pale Sophia and the conflicted Marco.

“Sophia,” Luca said calmly,

“see?

Money makes people obey me.”

Someone whistled.

Someone clapped.

Sophia grabbed her purse, shot me a vicious look, and stormed out.

Marco glanced at me once, then ran after her.

Luca didn’t follow.

He lowered his eyes to me, his fingers pressing into my waist.

“Move in tonight.”

That night, I moved into the Corleone estate.

That night, Luca took me.

Roughly.

Without foreplay.

He forced himself inside me,

his hands gripping, kneading, controlling.

Pain tore through me.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

He saw it, bent down, kissed me,

swallowing the blood from my mouth.

Then he drove into me harder.

So hard I felt like my bones were breaking.

It hurt.

But I was happy.

Afterward, he leaned against the headboard, smoking.

Through the haze of smoke, his profile was devastatingly beautiful.

After a long silence, he said:

“Next time it hurts, say it.

I don’t like mute girls.”

I looked at his dissatisfied expression and remembered the check.

I lowered my eyes, drew a breath, and said:

“Do it again.

This time, I’ll scream.”

I expected him to push me down immediately.

Instead, he refused.

“This was your first time.

Don’t pretend to be strong.”

The room fell silent again.

I was surprised by his refusal,

yet even more certain of my place in his heart —

not a person,

but a transaction.

He wasn’t protecting me.

He was protecting his investment.

And if he stopped paying me someday?

“I wasn’t pretending.

I liked the feeling.

The harder you are, the more I want it…”

The words felt filthy leaving my mouth,

but I forced them out.

Like the girls in those dramas.

That’s what they say, right?

He didn’t answer.

He stubbed out his cigarette, grabbed my hand, and dragged me into the bathroom.

That night, he made me kneel.

He gripped my face.

My body resisted,

but in my mind flashed the ICU’s pale lights,

my mother’s face under the breathing mask.

So I slowly opened my mouth

and let him take what he wanted.

I had never known such humiliation.

But it was worth it.

He moved my mother to the best hospital.

Paid off every debt.

Bought me an estate.

I no longer needed three jobs.

I could even finish school.

All I had to do

was learn how to please him.

Every position.

Every technique.

The look of satisfaction on his face

became my daily pursuit.

And the sentence —

“If you get pregnant, we’ll get married.”

— became my dream.

But now,

it was time to wake up.