Chapter 5
Luci's POV
The bank employee froze for a moment, flipping through the system records. Her tone was polite but apologetic. "The account holder specifically noted that if the key is lost, you need to be twenty-five years old to access it. Currently, you..."
She paused, probably calculating the date. "You still have three months before you can retrieve the jewelry."
Three months?
I stared at her blankly, my mind buzzing. Three months, ninety days. Did that mean I had to work at the nightclub for three months before I could pay off the debt and get divorced?
"Is there... no way to make an exception?" My voice came out dry and hoarse. "This was left to me by my grandmother."
"I'm sorry, this is a hard system setting at the bank. We don't have the authority to change it."
I dejectedly pushed open the bank's glass door and pulled out my phone to find the lawyer's number. Filing for divorce might be the fastest way to divorce now. I couldn't wait another three months.
The call connected after two rings.
"Hello." I spoke, my throat a bit tight. "I want to talk to you about filing for divorce, I..."
"Miss Lane." Before I could finish, he interrupted me. "I'm really sorry, I can't take this case anymore."
My hand holding the phone froze.
"Why?"
"I can't disclose the specific reason, but my advice is, you'd better... satisfy the other party's demands first." After saying this, he added, "I'm truly sorry." Then he hung up.
The busy tone beeped on the phone.
I stood on the steps in front of the bank, the sun burning the back of my neck, but my heart was cold.
It must be Harrison. I was so angry my fingers were shaking. I pressed the wrong buttons twice when dialing Harrison's number.
The call connected, his voice unhurried: "What is it?"
"Why did you threaten my lawyer?"
There was two seconds of silence on the other end, then he laughed, with condescending sarcasm. "I advise you not to do useless things before you pay off your debt."
"You..."
"I still have your grandfather's IOU." He said, "If you want to ruin his reputation, just keep making trouble."
I heard my own voice grinding through clenched teeth, "Harrison, don't go too far!"
On the other end came the sound of papers rustling. He was probably looking at some documents, his tone a bit impatient: "Go to the nightclub and do what you're supposed to do."
After saying that, he hung up.
I stood in the scorching sun for a moment, the phone screen burning hot from the sun. I closed my eyes, shoved the phone into my bag, and walked toward the nightclub.
When I reached the corner of that street, someone called my name.
"Luci? Is that Luci?"
I turned around and saw a short-haired woman in sportswear holding a camera. She took two steps closer, her eyes bursting with delight.
"It really is you! I'm Emma, Emma from the journalism department!"
Emma was thinner than in college, and darker too, her cheekbones even protruding, but her eyes were brighter.
"Emma, what are you doing here?" I asked, also surprised.
"I'm doing an investigation here." She pointed at the nightclub behind her and lowered her voice. "Someone at that nightclub is drugging girls and filming gang rape videos to upload to the dark web."
I looked at her. She was this driven in college too, carrying her camera into the most dangerous places, wanting to expose injustice whenever she saw it.
"I'm doing short videos on TikTok now, specifically exposing these dark things." She leaned in a step closer, her eyes gleaming. "Do you want to join? We need someone who can get inside and film something."
I opened my mouth. I knew I should refuse. I had a pile of troubles of my own. Harrison was watching me. I owed him an astronomical amount of money. I couldn't even get divorced. I wasn't qualified to mind other people's business.
But my mouth seemed to have its own will. "Okay."
Emma grabbed my arm, so excited she almost jumped. "I knew you'd agree! You were the most justice-minded person in school. You even stood up for that bullied junior at that debate competition."
I sighed softly. These were all things from years ago, and someone still remembered.
"That private room," Emma pointed to the corner position on the third floor of the nightclub. "Someone saw girls being taken in there, and they weren't in good condition when they came out. You just need to put this inside."
I nodded and stuffed the camera she gave me into my pocket.
The nightclub didn't have many people during the day. I quietly made my way to the third-floor corner. That private room was mysterious, with no room number and an electronic lock on the door.
I was standing in front of the door worrying about how to get in when I suddenly heard footsteps behind me.
I jumped and spun around to see a petite girl in a cleaning uniform, holding a mop, staring at me.
My heart was pounding. If she called someone, I'd be finished.
"What are you doing here?" she asked softly.
I didn't know how to explain. I wasn't the cleaner for this floor. My mind was racing, but I couldn't come up with a single word.
But fortunately she didn't press further. After a moment of silence, she walked over and pressed a few buttons on the password lock. The door opened.
Without saying another word or looking at me again, she turned and left.
I thanked her softly behind her back, slipped through the door, crouched down, and stuck the pinhole camera under the bar. That angle could capture the entire sofa area. After finishing all this, I pushed the door open and came out.
The manager was a woman in her forties. Everyone at the nightclub was afraid of her, but I found her quite amiable. When she talked to me, she always had a bit of a smile and never made things difficult for me, only asking me to clean empty private rooms and wipe the decorative paintings in the hallways.
This day, after I finished cleaning the empty private rooms on the second floor, I was about to call it a day and go home. When I pushed open the door, a figure swayed over from the hallway, reeking of alcohol.
"Well," he leaned against the door frame, his greasy face coming closer, letting out a disgusting burp. "There's such a beauty hidden in here."
I stepped back, my back against the wall. He was wearing an expensive suit, his tie crooked with several lipstick marks on it. His hairy hand reached over and grabbed my waist.
The touch was like snakeskin, rough and slimy.
Memories of Villa Coronela in South America suddenly flooded back. My whole body trembled, and I even had difficulty breathing.
His greasy face came closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Baby, don't be afraid, let me give you a kiss."
I felt so disgusted I was about to vomit. I wanted to tell him to get lost, but I couldn't make a complete sound.
Suddenly, a scream.
The arm around my waist was forcibly broken, the bone making a crisp sound. The drunk collapsed to the ground, howling while holding his arm.
I looked up and saw a person standing in front of me, backlit by the hallway light, his face shrouded in shadow.
He looked at the man with the broken hand, his eyes cold and deep, like he was looking at a dead man. "Who told you to touch her?"
