Clara guided Crescentia through the basics—how to identify each drink, mix them when requested, and handle customers. It was a lot to take in, but Crescentia nodded determinedly, absorbing every word.
By the time Clara finished, the club was about to open.
"Here, this is your uniform." Clara handed her a peach-colored dress that barely touched her knees. To Crescentia's surprise, it covered her upper body well. She had expected something more revealing. A small relief in the midst of everything happening.
"Thank you, Clara. I really appreciate this. I promise I'll make it up to you," she said sincerely.
Clara shrugged. "It's nothing. Now go change. The club is opening soon."
Crescentia hurried to the staff changing room, slipping into the uniform before stepping out as an official club waitress.
By the time she returned to the main lounge, the club was packed. Music blasted through the speakers, rattling her senses.
'I'm going to lose my hearing tonight.' She thought.
Her emerald green eyes scanned the crowd, her eyes locked onto a familiar face—the man who had nearly run her over. Her blood simmered at the sight of him, and the urge to march over and slap him was strong.
But the men in suits surrounding him, deep in conversation, gave it away that he wasn't an ordinary person. Forcing herself to focus, she reminded herself why she was here. The pay was decent, but it wouldn't be enough to cover everything. She'd need a second job.
"Waitress," a voice called.
One of the suited men from his table beckoned her over.
Crescentia grabbed a menu and approached.
"A fresh waitress. Take our order—"
As she wrote down their requests, she felt his gaze burn into her skin. Her stomach clenched. Did he recognize me?
Back at the bar, she couldn't shake the ridiculous urge to spill his drink on him. Her heart itches when she recalled how he'd almost ran her over and didn't even apologize for it but he took off.
'She shook her head. No. I need this job.'
But fate had other plans.
As soon as she approached their booth, her heel caught on the floor, and she stumbled. The drinks went flying, spilling straight onto him.
A stunned silence fell over the table.
Crescentia's breath hitched as she stared at his drenched clothes, horror sinking in.
"Are you blind?!" The man who had placed the order shot up, his voice cutting through the club.
Legs trembling, Crescentia scrambled to her feet. "I—I'm sorry. It was an accident. I tripped—"
"Don't give me that crap!" he bellowed. "You're so incompetent you can't even handle a few drinks?!"
The music cut off. Dancers froze. All eyes turned toward them.
Clara rushed to Crescentia's side, her expression shifting from concern to sheer panic when she saw who had been drenched.
"Mr. Lorenzo." Her voice was strained. "She's new. She didn't mean to—"
Damian Lorenzo hadn't said a word yet. He simply stood, his piercing gaze locking onto Crescentia. Her breath caught as she braced for his reaction.
Then, he spoke.
"It's okay. I'm sure she did this to get back at me for nearly running her over."
Shock rippled through the table.
His voice was calm. Amused, even. Anyone else would have exploded with anger, but he simply regarded her with a dark, unreadable smile.
"I won't let this slide," the club owner interjected, voice sharp. "Clara, what kind of incompetent worker did you hire?"
"I'm sure it was an accident," Clara insisted.
Crescentia swallowed. "I'm really sorry, sir."
Her stomach twisted. First, everything that had happened yesterday, and now, just when she'd found a job, she was about to lose it.
"I agree. She needs to be punished—"
"Are you the one who got drenched?" Damian's voice cut through the conversation like a blade.
The man hesitated.
"No? Then when I say it's fine, it's fine."
Crescentia barely had time to breathe in relief before her phone vibrated.
A call.
She pulled it out, hesitating. This was the worst time, but when she saw Doctor Nathan's name, dread coiled in her stomach.
Her fingers tightened around the phone as she answered.
The moment she heard the news, her blood ran cold.
Without a word, she turned and bolted.
"Cress!" Clara's voice echoed behind her, but Crescentia didn't stop.
She ran through the streets until she reached the hospital.
Doctor Nathan was waiting.
"We ran tests. She has esophageal varices. She's been vomiting blood." His voice was grave. "I can lend you the money for surgery—"
"No." Crescentia cut him off. "I'll find a way."
Nathan sighed but said nothing.
Inside the hospital room, Noella lay asleep, her frame even thinner than before. Crescentia's chest ached as silent tears spilled down her cheeks.
She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling as she called Clara.
"Why did you run off like that? Did something happen to Noella?" Clara's voice was laced with concern.
Crescentia wiped her tears. "Her health is getting worse. I need your help."
"Of course. Send me your account details, I'll transfer—"
"No." Crescentia swallowed hard. "Can you… find me a client?"
There was a quick pause.
"What do you mean?"
"I want to be a hooker."