"Where have you been?"
That annoying question always greeted Damian whenever he came home. The woman wasn't his mother, his sister, or his fiancée. Yet she acted as though she were the lady of the house.
The woman, who was three years older than Damian, was his adoptive sister. Her name was Laura. Somehow, Laura had suddenly appeared after Damian's father died. If Laura's name hadn't been included in his father's will, Damian would have kicked her out of this house long ago.
"Work. What else?" Damian replied lazily as he quickened his pace toward the second floor, where his room was.
"Transfer the money tomorrow like usual."
Damian heard her, but he couldn't be bothered to respond.
Laura did nothing but spend money and cause problems that always ended up troubling Damian. To this day, Damian still didn't understand why his father had decided to adopt Laura.
"Argh... why are there so many ungrateful people in this world?" Damian complained as he carelessly tossed aside his jacket. After that, he immediately headed for the bathroom.
Once he finished showering, Damian felt much more refreshed. Even the drowsiness he'd been feeling earlier suddenly disappeared.
The sharp-nosed man now lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
His mind was still busy thinking about the pile of work waiting for him. There were plenty of projects he had to finish this month. His position as the CEO of a multinational company left him almost no time to think about his own life. Especially after his father died.
All the company's work and responsibilities had been placed on Damian Cole's shoulders.
Damian suddenly furrowed his brow. Among everything occupying his thoughts that night, the memory of his encounter with the woman in the red dress had also surfaced, disturbing his sleep.
"Why did that rude woman suddenly pop into my mind?" Damian muttered.
"She is beautiful. Unfortunately, she's incredibly rude. Could she have gotten all those injuries because of her bad attitude?"
Brrrt... Brrrt...
Damian's phone, lying on the nightstand, suddenly rang. Damian knew exactly who would be calling him at two in the morning.
"Please... not again! Just let me sleep, Ivanna."
The woman in the red dress hurried through the crowd of people dancing to the pounding music from the DJ inside the club. The dim lighting, occasionally broken by flashes of colorful lights, didn't make her lose her way as she headed toward the dressing room.
When she arrived at the five-by-five-meter room, she was immediately greeted by the occupants' mocking looks. It was nothing unusual for her. She received looks like that almost every day, especially since she'd become one of the club's "stars."
With a face still covered in bruises, the beautiful woman with long, curly hair walked toward the vanity. She paid no attention to the three scantily dressed women who had been glaring at her disapprovingly.
The room contained five vanities equipped with various makeup supplies. In the right corner, several dresses in different styles and colors hung neatly. Not far from there stood a small rack filled with accessories and other necessities.
Meanwhile, a minimalist white sofa sat in the left corner. The woman usually sat there reading a book while waiting for her turn to perform. But today, it seemed she didn't have time for that.
Her face, covered in bruises, naturally needed more time to apply makeup to. Although she disliked this job, she still had to perform perfectly to preserve the peace in her life.
"Heh... you're still forcing yourself to perform looking like that?" one of the shoulder-length-haired women asked, her makeup extremely heavy. Her tone was just as mocking as her expression had been.
The woman wore a dark blue dress with a fairly low neckline. She often wore clothes that exposed that part of her body.
"Why? Only my face is injured, not my vocal cords," Elena replied coldly.
She had never intended to be friendly or warm toward anyone who openly hated her.
"Elena... Elena, be careful with that attitude. Don't tell me you got those bruises because of your own behavior," the woman said again with a mocking tone.
Her hands remained busy applying blush to her face with a makeup brush.
Elena Rose. That was her real name.
Unlike most people who worked in the nightlife industry and often used stage names, Elena chose to keep using her real identity. It wasn't because she was proud of her job. She simply didn't want to be a hypocrite by using a false identity.
"Amora, shut your mouth. Don't let your chatter sound more melodic than your singing tonight," Elena shot back, her tone no less sharp as she gave her a mocking smile.
Amora's gaze immediately grew even sharper. Her brows drew together as she struggled to contain her anger.
Meanwhile, the two women who had merely been watching their conversation quickly tried to calm Amora down. They knew "Mami" would scold them mercilessly if a fight broke out here.
"Please welcome! A-MO-RA!"
The male DJ's booming voice rang out from the speakers.
It was time for Amora to take the stage. That meant Elena was finally free from her annoying chatter and behavior. At least for now.
Amora left the room, fuming. The other two women followed behind her.
Now Elena was alone in the room.
She let out a rough breath as she stared at one of the vanities to her right. That vanity had been empty since last year.
Elena's expression turned melancholy.
"If it weren't for you and Dad, I would've run away from this place long ago."
She fell silent for a moment.
"I swear, Mona. I'll find him."