Billionaire Falls for Prostitute

Mirabella's pov

The old watch ticked relentlessly, a reminder of my mother's absence-I had inherited it from her before she passed-and the countdown to my father's inevitable return.

I had spent the day in a whirlwind of exhausting chores, my body aching with each movement. Now, in the fleeting moments of peace, I sought refuge in sleep, praying the timer would wake me before he stumbled home, reeking of alcohol and rage.

Suddenly, his booming voice sliced through the silence.

"You don't expect me to sell her to you for seventy thousand dollars that I owe you. I can't do that. She is worth far more than that," he said, his time firm but laced with a hint of desperation.

I jolted awake, panic flooding my system. My body, still aching from yesterday's beating, protested every movement. The bruises felt like they were etched into my bones, hence making me wince.

"Shit," I thought, frozen in place.

"Has he already seen me? Is he just waiting to unleash his fury once his visitor leaves?" The possibility made my stomach churn.

I had been here before, trapped in this cycle of fear and pain. There had been weeks where each day brought fresh bruises, where night offered no respite from his cruelty.

Part of me knew I would survive it again-I always did. But a darker, more insidious voice whispered that maybe this time, my prayers for an escape-even a permanent one-might finally be answered. At seventeen, I should be dreaming of the future, not praying for oblivion. Yet here I was, curled in on myself, silently begging for either mercy or an end-whichever came first.

Two years had passed since my mother's death, and in those years, my life had become a living nightmare, one of which was his beating, which had become routine.

"Look, I know I don't deserve to be negotiating this deal, but trust me, this offer is a good one for you. She is a virgin. Young, with good features. You know what I mean. A little work, and she will be something else. Let's make it one hundred and twenty dollars, please."

Even though his voice had dropped low, I could still make out the words.

"Who could he be talking to?" I wondered.

Curiosity tugged at me, and against my better judgement, I crept silently to the door. I pressed my ear against the wood, straining to catch every word of the conversation.

"Who the hell are these people?" I wondered, as I saw two men sitting across from him, their muscular frames making them look even more menacing.

One of them spoke, his voice deep and commanding. "Before we can agree on the deal, we need to meet the girl to see if she fits the criteria you've described."

A twisted smile spread across my father's face, a look of excitement that made my skin crawl.

He pushed his chair back and rose, calling my name with an enthusiasm that sent my heart into a frenzy as he walked towards my room.

My heart raced as I realised I had to emerge from there, hoping he wouldn't suspect I had been eavesdropping-which, guiltily, I had.

To avoid facing his wrath, I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and casually walked out of the kitchen, trying to appear nonchalant, like a thief caught off guard.

"I'm here, Father," I shouted, my voice steady despite the panic clawing at my insides.

His footsteps approached, and I braced myself for the inevitable explosion of anger, but he passed by without a glance or rebuke.

I could not dare raise my head to meet his gaze.

To my surprise, he chuckled. "I don't need to beat around the bush since you would have heard our conversation."

I stood frozen, my mind reeling in confusion.

"Was I the one he had been talking about?" I thought, my heart racing.

Then he dropped the bombshell, his words slicing through me like a knife. "I'm in debt to these people, and since you are useless and worthless to me, I've decided to sell you to pay it off."

His face was a mask of indifference, devoid of emotion.

The ground beneath me seemed to shift, and I swayed, nearly losing my balance.

His face remained emotionless, a grim mask that bore no trace of the man I once knew. It was as if he had been replaced by a stranger, someone who saw me as nothing more than a means to an end. The treatment I've been receiving from him for the past two years was worse than what a slave would endure in the hands of a cruel master.

My mind scrambled for a reason-a way to make sense of this nightmare. How could this be happening? Was this the same man who once held me close, who had laughed with me and comforted me? The memories of him as a loving father felt like a distant dream and shattered the day my mother died in that hospital room two years ago.

Her death had changed everything; it had twisted him into this unrecognisable figure standing before me, making me wonder if he was really my father and also if he truly loved any of us at all.

The realisation of him selling me like a commodity was suffocating.

***Two years ago***

The fluorescent lights in the hospital ward flickered on my mother's lifeless body.

I stood frozen in the doorway, my mind struggling to grasp the reality of her death.

"You bitch! She saved you from getting raped, and this is what she gets for helping you?" His voice cut through the silence like a knife.

I opened my mouth to speak, to defend myself, but he didn't give me a chance.

"Why couldn't you do anything when she was being raped and beaten? What the hell were you out for so late in the dark?" he accused, his eyes blazing with fury as he stormed toward me.

The accusation was so absurd it took me a moment to realise what he was saying.

How could he blame me for this? I had been out there with her, searching for him, worried sick because he hadn't come home and it was almost midnight. We were looking for him!

"Daddy," I tried, my voice trembling as I reached out, hoping to bring him back to his senses.

"Don't call me that, you ungrateful bitch!" His voice was a snarl, and before I could react, his hand came down hard across my face.

He didn't stop there. He looked at me with a cold, dead stare and swore, "I swear, I will make your life a living hell from now on."

And he kept that promise. From that moment on, my life became a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

***Back to present***

"Okay. She's worth the price," the man across the table said, his voice calm, almost casual, as if he were discussing nothing more than a simple business transaction.

My father nodded, his face a mask of grim satisfaction.

"Come tonight to get the rest of the money," the man continued, his eyes shifting to the other man, who had remained silent until now.

Before I knew it, the second man stepped forward, his hand clamping around my arm with a vice-like grip as he pulled me away from the only home I had ever known.

Panic surged through me, my mind racing as I realised there was no escape from this nightmare.

But I could not let this happen. Never! Hence, I screamed thinking that would be of help.

For a moment, I thought I had finally succeeded when my maternal grandfather emerged from his room, and I tearfully explained everything to him, desperate for his help.

He had always been a symbol of love and protection in my life, but his physical frailty had never been enough to shield me from the hell my father had created.

This house, along with everything my mother had inherited and built with her sweat, was willed to my father.

Despite her best intentions, it was a foolish decision that left me and my grandfather with nothing but this house after my father had squandered everything else.

I tried to resist, and my grandfather tried to intervene, but my small frame and his weakness were no match for the brute force against us.

In an instant, everything changed. He was shoved to the floor, and before I could react, a handkerchief was forced into my mouth.

I struggled, but soon I felt my consciousness slipping away, realising I had been drugged. Through fading vision, I saw my grandfather reaching out helplessly, desperate to save me.

As I was carried away, barely clinging to awareness, I made a vow to endure whatever came next.

Surely, nothing could be worse than the hell I was being torn from-or so I thought.

Little did I know, I was about to discover just how wrong I was.

Mirabella's pov

The bright sunlight pierced through the thin curtains, searing into my skull. I groaned, feeling a sharp pang in my head that made me wince.

Slowly, I forced myself to sit up, blinking against the brightness as I took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was bare-cold, impersonal, with walls that pressed in on me.

Confusion clouded my mind as I glanced down at myself, and my heart skipped a beat. I was wearing a white lace gown. This wasn't what I wore yesterday. Yesterday, I had been-

"Where am I?" I muttered under my breath, my fingers brushing over the patterns on the gown.

"Why am I in this?"

I tried to push through the haze in my head, the throbbing making it hard to think. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to remember.

Piece by piece, the memories began to stitch together. Then it hit me.

"He really sold me?" The words left my lips in a whisper as disbelief washed over me.

My legs gave way, and I crumpled to the floor, the shock numbing everything else.

But I couldn't stay there. Not like this.

"No," I hissed through gritted teeth, shaking my head, refusing to accept the reality that threatened to drown me.

I pushed myself up, a surge of determination coursing through me. I couldn't let this be the end. Never!

I marched toward the door, ready to face whatever lay beyond.

When I yanked on the handle, my heart sank because it didn't budge. It was locked from the outside.

My hands clenched into fists, and I slammed them against the door.

"Is someone there? Can somebody hear me? Please help me!" I shouted, my voice cracking with desperation.

Nothing.

My eyes darted around the room, landing on the small window across from me. Maybe... just maybe I could escape through there. I moved towards it, hope building in my chest.

But before I could reach it, the door creaked open.

My heart raced as I dashed back, thinking my cries had been answered.

But instead of salvation, a woman and a large, imposing man stood there.

My mouth opened, questions tumbling over each other in my head, but before I could speak, the woman's voice cut through the air like a whip.

"How dare you disturb the quiet of this place with your screams?" She snapped, her eyes cold and unfeeling.

I swallowed hard, backing away a step, my mind racing with fear and confusion.

Quavering, I asked the woman who she was.

The woman chuckled, her voice dripping with malice.

"Welcome to your new life," she said slowly, savouring each word.

"I am the HR manager of Aphrodite Club. From now on, you will call me 'Mother'-just like everyone else here does."

"Aphrodite Club?" I whispered, my voice trembling with disbelief.

It felt unreal. I had always thought of Aphrodite Club as nothing more than a rumour-a whispered myth.

People said that once you ended up there-especially if you were a girl-you never escaped. The stories painted it as a place full of unspeakable horrors, where human trafficking and forced prostitution were the norm.

Now, that nightmare was my reality. The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut-I was trapped in the very place I had always thought was just a myth.

"My dad really sold me?"

I couldn't believe that he could do such an ungodly thing to me. Even if I wasn't his biological daughter, how could he have such a nerve to do this?!

She scoffed. "Welcome to this beautiful hell, kiddo."

I collapsed to my knees, desperate.

"Please, let me go," I begged, my voice breaking.

"Just give me three months. I will find a way to pay back what my father owes you." She chuckled, a cold, unsettling sound that sent chills down my spine.

"What is your name?" she asked, her tone eerily calm.

"Mi... Mirabella, Mother," I stammered, a small spark of hope flickering inside me, thinking she was considering my plea.

But then her expression shifted-her once-friendly face hardened into something cold and menacing.

She reached out and ran her fingers through my tangled, dirty hair, a cruel smile spreading across her face.

"Mirabella," she said, her voice soft but laced with malice.

"Once you step through these doors, there's no escape. This place is hell, and you will learn to survive in it because that's all you'll ever do here."

She chuckled again, as if amused by her own cruelty. "Got it?"

Her words hit me like a sledgehammer, and I could only stare at her, my mind reeling with the horrifying truth. I wasn't just trapped-I was in hell. My situation had spiralled from bad to worse, and there was no way out.

With a mocking giggle, she turned and walked out, leaving the room as cold as her words.

The heavy sound of the door locking snapped me out of my horror.

I rushed to it, pounding with all my strength, screaming for help, but no one came.

That day dragged on with no sign of escape-the window was out of consideration-and my small spark of hope began to dim.

By the second day, I was still trapped, left alone in there. My only company was the ever-present CCTV camera watching me and the muffled sobs I tried to suppress.

I prayed for a miracle, but each hour that passed chipped away at my faith.

Food was being slid under the door once a day-noon, like clockwork. The meals were cold, tasteless, barely enough to sustain me. On that second day, I refused to eat, thinking that maybe my defiance would force them to reconsider. But nothing changed. No one came.

By the third day, hunger clawed at my insides. I caved, scarfing down the food like a starving animal, realising that no one cared whether I ate or not.

Then, early on the morning of the fourth day, the door creaked open.

I scrambled to my feet, my heart racing.

When I saw it was the HR manager, I clung to a desperate hope that maybe-just maybe-my pleas had finally been heard.

"Do you really want to be released?" She asked me with an unreadable expression.

"Yes... yes, Mother," I nodded, though my stomach churned, not from hunger but from excitement.

"You really want to leave this hell?" she asked, her tone almost teasing.

I quickly affirmed that I wanted nothing more than to leave, but what came next left me utterly confused.

"That's very simple," she said casually.

"But before you can leave, you have to learn something first."

"Learn?" I echoed, my brow furrowing in confusion.

I silently prayed it wouldn't be anything too difficult. My father had pulled me out of school years ago, leaving me with only a basic education. The thought of having to learn something new in this place filled me with dread.

"What exactly do I need to learn, Mother?" I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she snapped her fingers, and two men appeared, carrying an old-fashioned television.

They set it down on a stool in front of me, positioning it against the wall.

She pointed at the television. "Learning whatever would be displayed on the screen is a requirement for your release."

Then she smiled. "Good luck to you, Mirabella."

Still confused about what she meant and what was happening, I watched as she and the two men left the room.

I was still hearing their footsteps echoing when the television suddenly turned on.

The sudden turn-on was not what shocked me, but what was displayed on it: an explicit adult video!

Instinctively, I rushed to the television, desperate to turn it off, but I couldn't-there were no buttons, no way to stop it.

Panicked, I retreated to the farthest corner of the room, pressing my hands over my ears to block out the deafening noise. I buried my face in my knees, trying to shut it all out, but it was useless. The sound blared through the room, too loud to ignore, echoing in my head like a relentless nightmare.

I glanced up at the camera, tears welling in my eyes.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I cried out, my voice trembling with fear and frustration.

"Isn't abducting me enough? Please, let me go!"

But there was no response. No one came to help. The torment continued for days-video after video, all with the same horrifying content. At first, I tried to hide from it, but eventually, I gave in. I had no choice. Maybe this was what the manager wanted me to learn, though I still couldn't understand what the lesson was supposed to be.

This twisted punishment disguised as learning quickly became my worst nightmare.

The constant barrage of images and sounds wore me down, seeping into my mind until I couldn't even escape in sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the scenes from the videos replayed in my dreams, jolting me awake in terror.

The exhaustion was overwhelming, the fear suffocating, and I was left wondering how much more I could take. Even the strongest will would shatter under conditions like this, and that was exactly what the Aphrodite Club wanted.

Their notorious reputation for brainwashing and breaking people into submission was all too real, and it became clear that this was their goal for me. But why? What were they training me for exactly?

One night, as I wrestled with these horrifying experiences, the door to my room burst open.

Two men stormed in, grabbing me before I could react.

They dragged me out, my body sliding helplessly across the cold floor.

"Where are you taking me? Am I being released?" I cried, my voice weak and trembling.

But the only response was the scraping sound of my body being pulled down the hallway.

Before I could even comprehend what was happening, they hauled me into a room that looked like a makeshift hospital ward.

The harsh, sterile lights blinded me, and before I could ask any questions, they turned a pressure washer on me. I tried to fight, but my resistance was met with hard slaps and punches, leaving me gasping for breath.

"What are you doing to me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible as my energy drained away.

They stripped me of my filthy clothes, replacing them with a nightgown. Two women dressed me afterwards.

One of the men then picked me up as if I weighed nothing and tossed me onto what looked like a clinic bed.

I fought back with what little strength I had left, thrashing against their hold, but they pinned me down on both sides.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp sting in my arm. Confused, I sluggishly raised my head to see what they were doing, and my eyes widened in horror as I saw a needle being injected into my body.

"What... what are you doing to me?" I slurred, struggling to keep my eyes open.

But the drug-whatever it was-was too strong. I could feel myself slipping away.

The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was a woman in a mask and medical cap leaning over me.

"Let's get started," she said, her voice cold and detached, before my vision faded and everything went black.

Mirabella's pov

Seven days... A whole week has passed since I spent what seemed to be the whole night at the makeshift hospital ward without knowing what happened.

I was led into my haunting room by the two men who had dragged me out of there to the makeshift hospital in silence, ignoring my questions about what had happened. I was too weak to push for answers; I was still groggy from sleep.

All I knew was that I had been operated on-the stitches on my stomach were proof of that. I could only hope whatever they did wouldn't have lasting effects on my health.

The HR manager hadn't visited me since, until today.

"I believe you are ready to put what you have learnt into practice," she said, her tone cold. "Get ready for tonight. What you do and how well you impress will determine whether you get out of this beautiful hell." She scoffed, wished me luck, and left me alone with my thoughts, wondering what the night would bring.

As dusk fell, three women entered the room. They helped me into a warm bath, dressed me in a stunning red gown, adorned me with necklaces, and applied makeup that transformed my face. I barely recognised myself in the mirror-I looked beautiful, more beautiful than I ever thought possible.

My curiosity was piqued when one of them said as they left the room, "Did you see the smile on her face? I bet she thought she would be granted freedom after tonight, just like everybody was."

"She has no idea her nightmare is just beginning," another person sneered as their mocking laughter echoed down the hallway.

"What do they mean by that?" I wondered, a sense of dread creeping in.

But I pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the night ahead, determined to find out what all the preparation was leading to.

A few minutes later, the same two men, who seemed to be my constant escorts, led me out of the room. I silently hoped I'd never have to return.

As we neared a door, the pulsing beat of music grew louder, confirming what I already suspected-my destination was the infamous Aphrodite Club.

The men guided me through the crowd, weaving through clubgoers lost in the rhythm of the music. We made our way to the VIP section upstairs, where the atmosphere was slightly more subdued but still buzzing with energy.

Waiting for me were the HR manager, a young man seated beside her, and an overweight man lounging in a chair across from them.

"Here she is, ma'am." The men bowed slightly and left.

I stood there awkwardly as the HR manager got up and approached me.

"Mr. Levine..." She smiled, turning her gaze to the overweight man.

"Here is our latest product, Mirabella."

"How dare she refer to me as a product?!" I thought, anger bubbling inside me.

The man gave me a leering look, his eyes roaming from my head to my toes, and then he smacked his lips, making my skin crawl.

He grinned in a way that made my stomach turn. "She is quite a nice product. I am sure tonight will be memorable."

He shifted in his seat and motioned for me to join him, and though I hesitated, the HR manager insisted until I reluctantly sat beside him.

As soon as I did, he started asking personal questions-my name, my age. I answered in a low, flat voice, not wanting to engage.

Meanwhile, I noticed the HR manager, who I learnt was named Helen from her conversation with the man beside her, was trying to get his attention. The man, Caesar, did not seem interested in her at all.

What caught my attention was the way Mr. Levine treated Caesar with such respect, even though Mr. Levine was clearly older. Everyone who passed by also greeted Caesar with a level of reverence that made me realise he was someone important, someone with influence. It made me wonder who exactly he was.

"Have you done it before?" Mr. Levine asked me, grinning.

"What?" I arched my brows in confusion.

"Have you had sex before?"

My eyes widened in shock because I never thought that was what he meant.

I shook my head. "No...no, I haven't."

Laughing hysterically, he asked Helen for confirmation of who did.

"It is why I specifically kept her for you because I know she is your preference," she replied, smiling.

That was when it hit me-I was about to lose my virginity to a man I had just met, whose presence revolted me.

I felt an overwhelming urge to run because this was the exact opposite of what I had planned. I wanted to save my first time for someone who truly mattered to me, but that clearly was not going to happen now.

"You have really impressed me tonight," Mr. Levine's voice jolted me from my thoughts. "Don't worry, I will give you a generous tip for this."

"Let's go," he said, rising and grabbing my hand like I was a child, pulling me to my feet.

I thought of ways to escape, but nothing seemed possible. The horrible realisation set in-I was about to experience the very thing I had been forced to watch in those haunting videos for weeks.

Just as we were about to leave, Helen stopped us, stepping forward and asking us to wait.

"Don't forget; your freedom depends on your productivity tonight. It's all in your hands," she whispered in my ear.

And with a smile, she returned to her seat.

"You should take action and don't go easy on him, sir. Show him exactly who you are and why no one dares to cross you," Mr. Levine said to Caesar, leaving me bewildered about what he meant and who he was referring to.

After bidding Caesar goodnight, Mr. Levine took my hand and led me away.

As we walked down a corridor that seemed to be getting emptier, I briefly thought about making a run for it, convinced we were heading to Mr. Levine's home.

To my shock, he led me through a hallway with doors on either side and opened one. The scene unfolded so quickly that before I could react, I was pushed onto the bed, sprawling flat.

He moved over me like a predator. His hands crawled up my thighs as his body followed suit.

Despite the strange sensation, I was overwhelmed by revulsion. I could not stand the thought of my body being used for this man's pleasure.

Desperation hit me. I realised the only way out was to escape and run from the nightmare my father had thrust upon me.

Summoning every ounce of strength and determination, I suddenly drove my knee into his groin. He collapsed onto the other side of the bed, groaning and clutching his injured area.

I wasted no time. I sprang up, flung open the door, and fled down the corridor.

My heart raced as I burst through the exit, my mind set on leaving the club and this life behind. With every step, my resolve grew stronger-I knew my survival depended on making it out of there and never looking back.

But as I did, a troubled realisation settled over me: I had no plan, no allies, and nowhere to turn. The life I was fleeing away from was still deeply connected to everything I knew, and I had a feeling the fallout from my escape was far from over.

Hence, the uncertainty grew. Was there anyone I could trust? And what new dangers awaited me in the world beyond the club's glittering facade?