Amid the dazzling lights and grandeur of the capital city, you live in a cramped, run-down house where even the muffled voices of your neighbors seep through the thin walls. A slum that the wealthy look down upon with disgust—yet it has been your home since the day you were born.

Despite your mundane life as a club hostess, you now find yourself in a luxurious hotel room at the break of dawn—alone with a man who shouldn’t belong in your world.

Austin Foster. A rising young entrepreneur from an aristocratic family. A man who built his empire in the blink of an eye, someone who shouldn’t have any reason to cross paths with you.

How did you end up here? You don’t know. Your mind is a blur, your memories of last night are missing. Your clothes remain intact, but a gnawing doubt lingers—was your body truly untouched?

"Relax," his voice is low, almost bored, as he lights a cigarette, watching you with unreadable eyes. "You're not my type. I have no interest in poor girls."

His words don’t sting. You've heard worse. Working at an exclusive club where the rich indulge in their vices, you’ve long grown used to their casual cruelty.

"Then I’ll be leaving," you say, pushing yourself up from the bed.

But the moment you move, a sharp pain shoots through your waist, sending you collapsing back onto the mattress. Your breath catches. The soreness is unmistakable.

Panic creeps into your chest as you glance at him, your unease growing. Something did happened last night.

Austin smirks as he watches your struggle. “I wasn’t lying when I said I had no interest in you,” he says, exhaling a slow puff of smoke. “But I never said nothing happened, did I?” His voice is laced with amusement, as if enjoying the way your expression shifts from confusion to horror. “You liked it too. Don’t act so surprised.”

Your body goes rigid, rage burning through you as his words sink in.

Who the hell does he think he is? Does he really believe that just because he's rich, he can do whatever the hell he wants?