Chapter 4

The next day, I went to interview for a waitress position at an upscale private club, running a high fever.

The manager interviewing me was named John. He looked to be in his forties, his belly bulging and distended, his eyes scanning me up and down.

"You look pretty good, just too skinny."

John blew smoke rings. "We have high standards here, but the tips are good too. On a lucky night, you can make this much."

He held up five fingers.

"I can do it." My voice was hoarse, and my throat hurt badly.

"Alright, start your trial shift tonight. The uniform's in the locker room, locker number three."

The so-called uniform was a tight black miniskirt, the hem barely reaching my upper thighs, with a very low neckline that hardly covered anything.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

Protruding collarbones, pale face, dark circles under my eyes that even foundation couldn't hide.

I took a deep breath, put on the skirt, and walked into the luxuriously decorated private room.

Then, at the end of the hallway, I saw Matthew.

He was surrounded by a group of business partners, heading toward a VIP room. Sarah was holding his arm, wearing a red strapless gown, like a burning flame.

She leaned in to whisper in his ear, their posture intimate and natural.

I instinctively wanted to hide, but turned and bumped into a coworker carrying drinks.

The tray hit the floor, the sound of shattering glass especially piercing in the quiet hallway.

Everyone's eyes instantly focused on me.

"What's going on?"

John rushed over. Seeing the mess on the floor, his face darkened. "Mary! What have you done? That bottle costs eight thousand!"

"I'm sorry, I'll pay for it..." I crouched down to pick up the broken glass. My finger got cut, and blood mixed with the spilled liquor on the floor.

"Pay with what?" John raised his voice. "Your entire month's salary is docked!"

The commotion caught Matthew's attention.

He turned his head, his gaze landing on me crouched on the floor, his pupils contracting sharply.

I was wearing the revealing uniform, crouched in the mess, my finger bleeding, my face pale.

"Mr. George, what's wrong?" someone asked.

"Nothing." Matthew looked away, his voice cold and hard. "Just saw someone I know."

His words were like drawing a line between us.

I kept my head down, my nails digging deep into my palms. I could feel Sarah's scrutinizing gaze, carrying a victor's pity and... a hint of satisfaction.

"Matthew, isn't that your ex-wife?" Sarah deliberately raised her voice, making sure everyone around could hear. "How is she working in a place like this? Didn't you give her any settlement when you divorced?"

The surroundings instantly went quiet. All eyes fell on me like spotlights, filled with curiosity, pity, and schadenfreude.

Matthew was silent for a few seconds, then said flatly, "I did. She didn't want it."

"How proud of her!"

Sarah laughed lightly, tightening her grip on Matthew's arm. "So why has she ended up here now? Or maybe... she actually likes working in places like this?"

It was blatant humiliation.

I looked up at Matthew, hoping to see even a trace of protection in his eyes, a hint of sympathy.

But there was nothing.

He just frowned, his expression complicated and unreadable, but he didn't speak up for me.

"Sarah," he finally spoke, a trace of impatience in his tone, "let's go inside."