Chapter 1 Price of Survival

I stared at the cracked ceiling of our cramped apartment, my mind racing louder than the fan humming beside me. The air was heavy with silence, the kind that presses down on your chest and doesn't let you breathe right. I had lost my job today. Just like that.

"Cutbacks," they said. "Not your fault, Issabella."

But fault didn't pay rent. Or feed my seventeen-year-old brother, Mateo.

I rolled off the worn couch that doubled as my bed and grabbed my phone. I needed someone to talk to, anyone who wouldn't judge me for feeling like the ground was sinking under my feet. I dialed the only person I could trust with my truth-Jenny.

She picked up after two rings. "Bella? You good?"

That voice. Warm, grounding. I exhaled like I'd been holding my breath all day.

"No. Not even close."

"What happened?"

"I got fired." The words stung, even now. "I showed up early, like always. I smiled through customer complaints, like always. And then, the manager pulls me aside and says they're letting people go. Just like that. He gave me a damn box to pack up my things."

Jenny was silent for a moment. "I'm so sorry, babe. That's messed up."

"Rent's due next week, Jenny. Mateo needs textbooks for school. I don't even know how I'm going to pay for groceries."

"Can you apply somewhere else? Fast-food joints? Temp work?"

"I'm going to try," I said, but my voice trembled with doubt. "But even if I get something, it won't come through in time. I'm drowning, Jen."

More silence. Then, her voice lowered, careful. "Look... there's something I saw online."

"What kind of something?"

Jenny hesitated. That wasn't like her. "I wasn't going to tell you, because I didn't think you'd even consider it. But... maybe now-"

"Just say it," I pressed.

She sighed. "Cassian De Rossi's manager posted something on this private platform. You know him, right? The billionaire guy... into exclusive contracts, power, secrecy..."

I blinked. "The mafia-type billionaire who owns half the city?"

"Exactly. His manager put out a discreet listing. They're looking for a woman-someone who can provide him with... companionship. But like, intimate companionship."

My stomach flipped. "You mean like a sugar baby?"

"Not quite. It's more... structured. Exclusive. A 'private arrangement'," she said, choosing her words carefully. "He doesn't do random hookups. The woman signs a contract. She lives in his home. No outside relationships. It's basically a full-time role. A personal consort."

Consort. The word made my skin prickle. It sounded cleaner than what it really meant-but I wasn't stupid. I knew exactly what she meant.

I swallowed hard. "So... he's paying women to sleep with him?"

"Just one woman. One he chooses. And not just for sex-it's more complicated than that. Privacy. Control. Emotional detachment. Everything on his terms. But the money is insane. Enough to solve every problem you're facing and then some."

I stared at the wall, heart pounding. I thought of Mateo, how I'd promised him he'd never have to struggle again. How I lied to his face when I told him the job at the bookstore was steady.

"And how would one even apply for that?" I asked quietly, though my voice betrayed me.

Jenny immediately sat up straighter on the other end. "No-wait, Bella. That wasn't me saying you should. I'm just telling you what I saw."

"You said they were still looking, right?"

"...Yes."

"And you have the link?"

"I do. But Bella-this is Cassian De Rossi we're talking about. He's not just rich. He's powerful. Dangerous, even. Rumors say he's tied to the underworld. You don't just walk into his life and walk out untouched. If he chooses you, you're his. Completely."

I closed my eyes. "What's worse-belonging to a man like that, or ending up on the street with my little brother hungry?"

Jenny didn't answer. She didn't need to.

---

That night, I didn't sleep. Every creak in the apartment reminded me of how old and fragile our world was. Mateo's light breathing from the next room reminded me who I was fighting for.

He thought I was strong. That I always found a way. He didn't know that strength sometimes meant considering choices you never thought you'd even look at.

The next morning, I put on the only clean blouse I had left and headed to a few local restaurants, dropping off résumés. Most managers didn't even look me in the eye. Some said they'd "call if something opened up." But I knew better. Desperation smelled like rot to them.

By 2 p.m., I was sitting outside a dusty café, sipping water I didn't pay for, staring blankly at my phone.

Jenny's last message glared back at me:

"Still thinking about it?"

I typed one word: "Yes."

She replied instantly.

"The application process is strict. You have to answer personal questions. They ask for a video. It's not about looks-it's about vibe. Attitude. They want someone who won't break easily."

I exhaled shakily. That wasn't me. I was breaking. Every second of every day.

But maybe that was exactly why I had to do this.

I called her. "Send me the link."

"Bella-"

"I said send it."

Another pause. Then, the link dropped into my inbox like a trap I was about to step into willingly.

---

That night, after Mateo went to bed, I sat in front of my cracked phone screen and clicked the link.

Everything about it felt... sterile. No names. No faces. Just form fields and sharp, to-the-point language.

"This opportunity requires absolute discretion. You will be living under the employer's terms. All emotional expectations must be left at the door. Loyalty. Obedience. Confidentiality. In return, financial security and protection will be provided."

At the bottom:

Upload your video. Tell us who you are. Why you're applying. Why you should be chosen.

I stared at the camera.

Then I hit record.

"My name is Issabella Cruz. I'm twenty-three years old. I don't have fancy clothes or a perfect smile. I've worked since I was sixteen to raise my younger brother. I've never had the luxury of saying no to things that hurt if it meant survival. And if you're looking for someone who knows what sacrifice really means-someone who won't fall in love or pretend to be something she's not-then maybe... maybe I'm the one you're looking for."

I ended the recording, breathing like I'd just run a mile. My hands shook.

I didn't want this. I didn't want him. I didn't want to be reduced to some man's plaything.

But I wanted my brother safe. I wanted the fear to stop.

So I pressed submit.

And in that moment, I knew-there was no going back.