It was evening—when the lounge pulsed with life. Music drifted in waves from the elite corner, and laughter mixed with the soft clinks of glassware. Perfumed air hung heavy, glimmering under the amber lights like everything was dipped in gold.
Harper stood behind the counter, arranging crystal glass cups with practiced hands. Her hair, loosely tucked under a cap, stuck to her forehead from the lounge's humid heat. Her mind was quiet, focused… until she caught sight of Olivia's escort striding toward her with determined steps.
She looked away immediately.
"Olivia said you should serve her table," the escort said curtly, stopping just beside her.
"I wasn't assigned there," Harper replied without looking up.
"She said you should bring her orders if you don't want to be reported!" the escort snapped, already walking off in a rush.
Harper sighed, frustration creeping in like a slow burn. She grabbed a stainless bowl, filled it with ice and champagne, tucked a small napkin under her arm, and headed toward the VIP section. Her stomach churned, but her face remained a perfect mask.
When she reached Olivia's table, she lowered the bowl and set it gently on the marble surface. She uncorked the champagne with a smooth pop, the fizz crackling as it escaped. Olivia, lounging in an emerald dress with a slit that reached her thigh, picked up her glass and tilted it toward Harper expectantly.
Harper served the drink without a word. Olivia's gaze lingered on her—slow, deliberate, sultry—as if she were undressing Harper with her eyes.
"Do you need anything else?" Harper asked, still avoiding her gaze.
"Sit down, Harper."
"I'm fine, thank you," she replied, stiff as ever.
"I asked you to sit down, Harper!"
"No."
"You are getting on my nerves!"
"I'm sorry, but I'm at work right now."
"If I wanted you here, it means I wanted you here. How dare you disobey me!" Olivia hissed, leaning in.
But before Harper could even open her mouth—
"Who do you think you are?" a voice interrupted.
Harper turned—and froze.
Angel.
She stood tall at the lounge entrance in towering heels and a skin-tight red dress, her presence turning heads like a celebrity walk-in. She strutted toward them, then gracefully sat opposite Olivia, crossing her legs and wearing a venomous smirk.
"What are you doing here? Didn't you stop coming to the lounge since you became the noble courtesans?" Olivia sneered.
"It's none of your business."
"Then get off my seat, I'm talking to Harper."
Angel's eyes narrowed. "Who gave you permission to control him back and forth?"
"And why can't I?"
"He belongs to me now."
"What? How?" Olivia's voice shook.
"He will be my escort henceforth."
"He is a boy!"
"Doesn't matter! Since I wanted it, Francisca approved it."
"She will not do that! Why would you have two escorts and a boy too? Who do you think you are, Angel!!!"
Angel leaned back, nonchalant, radiant. "I am who I think I am. I'm taking a boy escort because I wanted to!"
"Angel!!"
"Fuck off. Come with me, Harper," she said with no hesitation, and walked off, her hips swaying as though she'd already won the battle.
Harper stood still for a second—stunned, confused—then followed, her heart racing. It felt reckless… but anything to get away from Olivia.
She stepped into the noble hall for the first time.
Her mouth fell open.
What the hell! she screamed inwardly.
The place looked like a palace. Glittering chandeliers. Marble pillars. Velvet drapes. A fountain in the center, gently bubbling under dim lights.
"Oh my goodness…" she whispered.
"It's beautiful, right?" Angel said behind her with a proud smirk.
"Of course it is!" Harper breathed, still turning her head to take it all in.
"You will serve here henceforth."
If Harper had known how hard it would be to go from lounge server to Angel's personal escort, she would've rejected the offer without blinking. It was one hell of a bad decision, But desperate to escape Olivia, and because Angel holds more power in the courtesan house she had jumped at the chance. Not knowing the true price.
Because the nightmare began the day she learned that Angel's companion was Logan.
Trouble.
Luckily for her, Logan didn't recognize her. Didn't know who she was—yet.
Logan told Angel everything. So naturally, she knew about Quincy—and how Harper had saved him that night.
Angel resented her for it.
Because Logan hated Harper too.
Even after all this time, Logan and Angel still whispered Harper's name in hatred like it haunted them. They thought she was dead. And for that, she could almost thank Ross—for selling her off instead of killing her to please Logan.
Logan was ruthless. Even Angel, confident and powerful as she was, feared him. She obeyed him without question, which made Logan cherish her loyalty. She helped him deal drugs, delivered packages, and even gathered intel. If Logan wanted someone dead, Angel would carry it out without flinching.
To the world, she was glamorous. A courtesan everyone admired.
But behind the curtains, Logan treated her like a commodity—he hit her, used her, and made her endure it all just so she could keep her title.
All the other courtesans envied her—her beauty, her power. But none of them knew how broken she was behind closed doors.
Harper, meanwhile, had become the center of gossip. The boy all the courtesans wanted, now serving Angel. And Angel made sure they all knew he was hers—just to watch them squirm.
Angel had seen through the disguise. She knew Harper was a girl… and was keeping it to herself just to piss Olivia off.
Daisy, who had been gone for over a year, was due to return. The noble hall would soon shift again, depending on what companion she found—or if she'd even get back in.
Still… Harper's thoughts often wandered.
Two years. It had been that long since Quincy.
He'd disappeared before she woke up. Logan often spoke of him, confirming he was safe, but never where he was. Never what he was doing.
After everything I did… Harper thought bitterly. He forgot about me.
Logan once mentioned Quincy was now leader of the Dylan family. Or maybe he already was before—pretending to be weak just to penetrate enemy lines. The night Harper saved him, he'd been playing a role.
Logan lost a lot the moment Quincy resurfaced in power. And Harper? She'd burned every bridge to save a man who vanished without a word. Harper feels so bad for herself, she got on Ross bad side just to save Quincy who was already the leader of the biggest mafia here now he left her all alone to deal with girls' trouble all day long
"I'm definitely gonna kill him anytime I see him, I swear," she mumbled.
What stung more than abandonment?
Marriage. Quincy got married.
That bastard!
She couldn't even understand why it hurt—she tried to convince herself it was a business move.
Even if it wasn't… what chance do I have with Quincy?
Even with all Logan's wealth and reach, he couldn't hold a candle to Quincy and the generational wealth that he inherited, Logan always talks about how insanely rich Quincy was and wants to find out how he made money still because he doesn't wanna believe that they're in the same business
Logan does more drug business than the whole Dylan family join together and he doesn't have as much money as they do. Logan ranted endlessly.
"He holds a fortune, Angel!" he would bark. "His great-grandfather, grandfather, father—generational wealth. All handed to him. they had too much money that can't be recorded and they gave it all to him"
Quincy had never been a fool. He only pretended to be, just long enough to cut off Logan's drug channels. Claimed Logan was ruining the mafia name. "I wasn't ruining the mafia, I did nothing than sell drugs and make my money"
If only Logan knew that Quincy did their business check because of what Ross was doing behind him he won't hesitate to kill him
It wasn't just drugs.
Organ trafficking. Human trafficking. The real reasons why Quincy started watching Logan. He had eyes everywhere.
The Dylan family had once created the mafia in this country. And since Quincy was 18, he'd been slowly rebuilding its image. From the shadows.
"I can't believe it," Harper whispered. "He's been a leader since he was eighteen. And I thought he was some scared kitten that I had to protect with my life…"
So much happened behind the luxurious walls of the courtesan house. It was more than a brothel—it was a home of power. More influential than the Shield Hotels themselves. madam Francisca is the head of the courtesan house and according to the workers the hotel has been in existence for a whole decade and they run the business like it just started yesterday
Shield Hotels were old. Powerful. But no one knew who owned them.
There was a penthouse—rumored to belong to the anonymous owner. Some said it was given to a favored courtesan. Just a rumor.
But every courtesan dreamed of living there. And they whispered about it every chance they got.
I wonder what's special about the penthouse… Harper thought, eyes drifting toward the stairs that led up to its mysterious floor.