Chapter 2

Kerry stood dead still in front of David Macy, her face stripped of all emotion. "Move."

David's eyes raked over the face he'd been fantasizing about for weeks. His gaze dropped lazily over her tight outfit, a surge of adrenaline making his heart hammer. Lowering his voice so only she could hear, he sneered, "Ms. Jones really knows how to play the field, huh?"

Listening to his greasy voice and smelling the stale alcohol radiating off him, Kerry’s voice dropped to a freezing register. "Get out of my way."

Weeks ago, David had explicitly hinted he wanted to make her his mistress. But Kerry had a notoriously sharp temper; she’d flipped the table and walked out on him right there, leaving him obsessing over her ever since. He thought she was a fiercely principled saint. But seeing her dressed like this tonight... there was no way in hell he was letting her walk away.

Wearing a sleazy grin, David crowded her. "Ms. Jones, we’re old friends. Sell me some face tonight. How much do you—"

He stopped mid-sentence, catching the sudden, murderous glint in Kerry’s eyes. He quickly pivoted. "How many lessons—we won't talk about money—how many lessons do I have to buy for you to sit down and have a drink with Mr. Condon?"

"Show some respect," Kerry snapped. "I don't want to have to contact your wife again."

David hadn't expected her to put him on blast so bluntly in front of an audience. His face flushed a dark, ugly red. Humiliated, he provoked her. "Call her. I dare you to call her right now."

Before the words fully left his mouth, Kerry pulled out her phone and actually started scrolling through her contacts. She wasn't bluffing; she kept his wife’s number on hand for exactly this reason.

Panicking, David lunged to snatch the phone from her hand.

Kerry didn't hesitate. She threw a vicious elbow straight into his chest. Her elbow was sharp and bony, and it hit him so hard David sucked in a sharp, hissing breath.

Blinded by fury, he grabbed her arm and brutally hurled her backward onto the leather sofa.

Kerry hit the cushions hard, her ears ringing from the impact. Through the haze, she heard someone shouting, "Who the fuck are you pretending to be?! Dressing up all proper to be a teacher by day, but coming here to be a whore by night! What, was my offer just too low last time?!"

Kerry scrambled to push herself up.

David sneered down at her. "Still want to call my wife? Dressed like that, if you call the cops, you'll be the one getting locked up. If you're not afraid of the humiliation, go ahead and scream. Let everyone know that the elite tutor from Vanguard is nothing but a cheap—"

He didn't get to finish the sentence.

A splash of liquid hit him square in the face, sweeping up from below. Kerry sat there gripping an empty cocktail glass, her face flushed with rage even in the dim light.

David’s eyes went wide. Furious and deeply humiliated, he roared, "Fuck! I gave you a chance, you bitch!"

He lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of Kerry’s hair, yanking her violently off the sofa. He dragged her toward the door, spitting venom through his teeth. "If I don't fuck you tonight, my name isn't Macy!"

Kerry’s nails dug into the man’s flesh, fighting him with everything she had. They were only a step away from the private room's heavy doors.

Suddenly—bang!

It sounded like a firecracker going off right next to her ear.

The bruising grip on her hair instantly vanished. David reached up to clutch the back of his head, turning around and snarling, "Who the fuck—"

Before his head could fully turn, something clamped down hard on his scalp. Someone grabbed his hair and violently smashed his face into the wall.

It was an indescribable sound. The sickening thud of impact mixed with the sharp crack of breaking glass. It was muffled, yet horribly crisp.

That single sound made Kerry’s heart drop into her stomach. She froze, staring at Clifton Condon, who was now standing directly behind David Macy. She subconsciously held her breath.

David let out a muffled groan, completely stripped of his ability to shout.

Clif, seemingly disgusted by the feel of the man’s greasy hair, shifted his grip to the back of David’s collar. His voice was terrifyingly soft. "Who exactly are you going to fuck?"

Recognizing the voice, David let out a bewildered, terrified whimper. "Mr... Mr. Condon..."

Clif's face was completely devoid of emotion. He slammed David's head into the wall again.

"In my room, who exactly are you going to fuck?"

David groaned, trying to speak, but when he opened his mouth, only a mixture of saliva and blood spilled out.

"I wasn't finished talking," Clif said softly. "Since when is it your turn to give orders in here?"

With every question Clif asked, another brutal impact followed. A bloody smear was starting to form on the wallpaper. David’s throat emitted a wet, gurgling sound—it was impossible to tell if he was begging for mercy or crying for help.

The hostesses in the room turned their faces away, trembling. Even the men didn't dare make a sound.

Only Kerry stood there, perfectly still, her face an unreadable mask.

The club Madam accidentally pushed the door open right at that moment. Seeing the scene, she stumbled backward in terror, nearly falling over. She looked at the half-dead David Macy, then at Clifton Condon, who clearly had zero intention of stopping. Finally, her terrified gaze landed on Kerry Jones.

Kerry wasn't one of her girls, but she had to wear the club’s uniform to even get through the door to see Clif. They had crossed paths earlier, and the Madam had thought Kerry seemed different. Sure enough, not even an hour later, she’d somehow triggered Clifton Condon into a violent rage.

The Madam scrambled to find a stray jacket, draped it over Kerry’s shoulders, and looked at her with pleading eyes. "Please," she whispered desperately. "Please talk Mr. Condon down. Don't let him kill someone in here."

Kerry's expression remained ice-cold. She wanted to ask: Is my life not a life? If Clif hadn't intervened, she could have died in this room tonight, and not a single one of these people would have spoken up for her.

Perhaps her freezing reaction scared the Madam. They locked eyes for a moment, and the Madam looked away, struck by a sudden, guilty silence.

Right then, Clif—still holding a bleeding David Macy—turned his head. His dark eyes locked onto Kerry.

"Go change your clothes," Clif ordered, his voice steady. "Wait for me downstairs."

Every single person in the room stared at Kerry, their eyes a mix of intense scrutiny and sheer terror. What the hell is her relationship with Clifton Condon? they silently wondered. How did she get him to personally beat a man half to death for her?

But Kerry’s attitude was even more shocking. She didn't say a single word. She just turned on her heel and walked out.