Chapter 3
Irene's POV
"Miss, another champagne."
A greasy middle-aged man waved me over, his eyes crawling all over my exposed skin.
I walked toward him with my tray, head down. The black lace mini skirt barely covered my thighs. The low-cut top left me nowhere to hide.
I set down the glass without a word.
His hand reached out, brushing against my arm—not so accidentally. I tensed but could only swallow my disgust and step back.
A week ago, the doctor told me Leo's heart condition had worsened. He needed surgery immediately. The cost? $300,000. Where was I supposed to get that kind of money?
Just when I'd hit rock bottom, I found this job—waitress at a yacht party.
All night, I'd been enduring the lewd stares and crude remarks from these rich pigs. Every time I wanted to snap, Leo's pale little face would flash before my eyes.
For him, I could endure anything.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the fireworks display will begin shortly on the deck!" the host announced.
Guests flooded toward the deck. I followed, hoping to catch a break.
Then I heard a familiar laugh.
I looked up. My whole body froze.
On the deck, Eric and Selena stood intimately by the railing. Under the moonlight, Selena wore a stunning white gown. Eric stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder, smiling so tenderly—a smile I hadn't seen in three years.
And me? I stood there in this cheap maid costume like a goddamn clown.
I wanted to turn and leave, but Eric had already seen me.
His eyes widened in shock. He rushed over, frantically pulling out his phone: "What are you doing HERE?!"
"Working. Making money."
Eric's face flushed red. He typed rapidly: "Dressed like THAT?! What the hell are you thinking?!"
"What am I thinking? I'm trying to survive."
"Eric, what's wrong?" Selena walked over. When she recognized me, satisfaction flickered in her eyes. "Oh my god, Irene? What are you doing here? Working as a waitress?"
Whispers erupted around us. Countless eyes fixed on me—curious, pitying, contemptuous.
But I didn't care about any of them anymore.
"Leo needs surgery. I need the money."
Eric froze. His fingers flew across the screen: "What's wrong with Leo?"
"His heart condition worsened. He needs surgery NOW." I looked straight at him. "$300,000."
Eric's face went white. His hands trembled as he typed: "Why didn't you tell me?"
I laughed. The sound was bitter enough to choke on.
"Tell you?" I stared at him. "Where the HELL have you been this past week?"
Eric went rigid.
"You said you were going abroad for treatment. I called you. I texted you. You didn't answer. When Leo collapsed, I called you thirty-two times. THIRTY-TWO TIMES. You didn't pick up once."
Eric's hands shook. "I'm sorry, I lost my phone..."
"You lost your phone?" I glanced between him and Selena, my laugh dripping with sarcasm. "How convenient. Convenient enough for you to tour with her. But not convenient enough to answer your son's mother."
Eric's expression shifted, color draining from his face.
"Ms. Sterling!" Someone approached Selena excitedly. "Congratulations! That custom yacht must've cost millions! Mr. Vanderbilt really outdid himself!"
The air froze.
A million-dollar yacht. And my son needed $300,000 to live.
I stared at them both.
"No! I bought it myself!" Selena said, flustered. "Eric just helped me pick it out—he didn't pay for it!"
"Right, I just helped her choose it." Eric typed frantically.
I watched them scramble. Suddenly I felt exhausted. So damn tired.
"I'm leaving." I turned to go.
Eric grabbed my arm, his expression serious as he typed: "You can't do this job anymore."
I looked down at his hand gripping mine. A laugh escaped.
"Then what am I supposed to do?" I looked up at him. "How am I supposed to pay for our son's treatment?"
Eric opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He wanted to say he'd pay for it—but he couldn't. One word, and three years of lies would unravel.
That's when Selena's voice rang out: "I'll pay for it!"
Everyone turned to her.
"I'll cover the surgery," Selena said. "Eric and I are friends. Leo means a lot to me too. I can't just stand by and let him..."
She sounded so sincere, tears welling in her eyes. Murmurs of admiration rippled through the crowd.
I watched her little show, a sardonic smile curling my lips.
If she wanted to play the hero, I'd let her.
"One million dollars."
Selena's smile froze. "What?"
"Surgery costs $300,000. Follow-up treatment, rehabilitation, plus the debts from the past three years..." I enunciated each word carefully. "One million. Not a cent less."
"Irene!" Selena's face twisted. "This is BLACKMAIL!"
"Blackmail?" I laughed coldly. "You spent millions on that yacht without blinking. Now one million is too much? Or was that generosity just for show, Ms. Sterling?"
All eyes turned to Selena, filled with scrutiny and doubt.
Her face flushed red. She was trapped.
"Fine. I'll pay." She grabbed her checkbook from her purse, scrawled her signature furiously, then shoved the check into my hand.
The moment I took it, I caught sight of our hands side by side—
Hers were long and delicate, nails painted perfectly, like something out of a magazine.
Mine were rough and cracked, knuckles swollen and deformed from years of hard labor, dirt under my nails that wouldn't scrub away.
That was the gap between our worlds.
"Thank you for your generosity, Ms. Sterling." I turned and left.
In the changing room, I'd just put on my own clothes when the door burst open.
Eric stormed in and slammed it shut behind him.
He glared at me furiously, typing fast: "What the HELL were you thinking? What if someone we know saw you like that?!"
"Someone we know?" I laughed bitterly. "You're afraid I embarrassed YOU, aren't you?"
Eric froze.
"You know how I spent this past week? When Leo collapsed, I was on my KNEES in that hospital, begging them to help him. They said without money, there was nothing they could do." My voice shook. "And YOU? Where the hell were YOU?"
"I didn't know..." Eric's fingers trembled.
"Of course you didn't know. You were too busy 'treating' your condition to care if we lived or died."
"Irene..."
"Enough." I took a deep breath and pulled papers from my bag. "Just sign these."
Eric stared. "What?"
"The forms for Leo's surgery. They need your signature."
Eric took the documents and started flipping through them.
My heart pounded.
These weren't just medical forms. Hidden at the bottom—our divorce papers.
I watched him flip through, page by page. My palms were soaked with sweat.
He moved quickly, barely glancing at the content, picking up the pen to sign.
One form. Two. Three...
Finally, he reached the last page.
The pen touched the paper.
His hand stopped mid-signature.
