June swallowed down her frustration. Her voice trembled as she tried to explain, "Something happened at home… I just got a call—"

  The manager cut her off with a sneer. "How many damn times have I told you to turn off your phone while you’re on the clock? You think you're special? You’ve been getting customer complaints left and right! That’s three days’ wages, gone!"

  June’s fury finally broke through her restraint. "That’s not fair—"

  The tray clattered as she slammed it down.

  "Oh? You’ve got the nerve to talk back now?" The manager leaned in, her voice like acid. "I hired you because you used to be sharp. Now you're just like that idiot Lyra. Useless. You don’t want the job? Then leave!"

  June’s face flushed red, her fists balled tight. Screw this. She ripped off her uniform jacket and tossed it to the ground. "I quit!"

  She turned and bolted out of the café, hot tears blurring her vision. Not far away, Atticus sat quietly at a table, sipping his coffee as if none of it had happened.

  Across from him, Thaddeus raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want to treat us today? No need to push yourself. We could all split the bill.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m treating. Eat whatever you want.” His voice was steady, but there was a subtle ease to his tone—like the sharp edges he usually carried had softened.

  Before Thaddeus could protest again, one of the other players spoke up. “C’mon, boss. Let him spoil us just this once. We’ll treat him next time.”

  Thaddeus grinned. “Fine. But next time’s on me.”

  Atticus gave a rare smile. “Nah, I’m already bored of the food here. Next time, pick the place. I want to see what you guys like to eat.”

  That made the table erupt in easy laughter. “Look at Atticus, trying to get on our level.”

  “He wants to eat what we eat? Brave move, man!”

  June stumbled home under the weight of the rain and everything else going wrong in her life. Her hair clung to her face, soaked. Her eyes, once bright, now looked hollow, almost vacant.

  Nothing had gone right lately. First that bastard tracked her and her mother down. Then William—her William—had been seen with Clarissa nearly every day. And now… she didn’t even have a job anymore.

  The world seemed hellbent on breaking her. She unlocked the door, only to find Jace standing there, waiting.

  The moment she saw his face, nausea twisted in her stomach. She tried to push past him without a word, but he grabbed her wrist.

  “What the hell are you doing? Let go!” June stumbled backward, heart pounding, but Jace shoved her hard, and she hit the floor with a painful thud.

  He turned his head slightly, speaking over his shoulder. “Mr. Darkwood, what do you think? She’s top quality. Fresh. Still a virgin…”

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  June’s breath caught in her throat the moment she noticed the group of unfamiliar men lounging on the living room sofa.

  Slowly, she turned—and saw Aria trembling, clutching a coffe tray as she emerged from the kitchen. Aria’s eyes widened with panic. Her hands shook so violently that the porcelain clattered and shattered across the floor.

  She dropped the tray and lunged toward Jace, shrieking like a woman possessed. “Are you out of your mind?! That’s your daughter! Your own flesh and blood!”

  Jace shoved her back with brute force, his voice cold. “So what? If I need another kid, I’ll get another woman to give birth to one. No money means death. I don’t care anymore.”

  He grabbed Aria by the arm and dragged her down the hallway, locking her in the bedroom. Her screams and fists pounding on the door echoed down the walls, but Jace didn’t look back.

  June was crying now, shaking as she fought to escape, but there were too many men—hands gripping her arms and shoulders, forcing her to the floor.

  A tall, lean man with a predatory smirk crouched before her. Darkwood. The one Jace had been groveling to.

  He reached out and roughly hooked a finger beneath June’s chin, forcing her to look at him. June trembled, lips quivering.

  Darkwood tilted his head, examining her like she was a product on a shelf. He dragged his hand across her chest, then squeezed her ass—possessive, degrading. She gasped in disgust and tried to twist away.

  “She’s young,” Darkwood finally said. “Decent enough. Pretty face. Tight body.”

  He stood up and turned to Jace. “I’ll give you a hundred grand. Take it or leave it.”

  Jace's eyes gleamed with greed. “Yes! Thank you, Mr. Darkwood! She’s all yours. So…”

  Darkwood chuckled coldly. “Debt’s wiped clean.”

  Jace was hoping for more. She should’ve been worth double that. Useless girl.

  June’s voice broke through the chaos, hoarse and panicked. “Wait! I have money! Please, don’t take me. I’ll give you everything I have—just don’t take me!”

  Darkwood paused mid-step, eyes narrowing with new interest. “Oh? You have money?”

  Tears blurred her vision, but her fingers reached into her bag and pulled out a card. Her whole body was shaking as she handed it to him. “There’s a hundred thousand on this card. It’s yours. Just take it and leave. Get out of my house.”

  Darkwood took it with a slow smirk. “That so? You better not be lying.”

  “Give me the payment slip,” June snapped, her voice burning with fury and desperation. “I’ll transfer it right now.”

  He raised an eyebrow, amused, and handed her the slip. She tore it into pieces with shaking hands, then did the transfer.

  Darkwood checked his phone. The money was in. He grinned, clapped Jace on the back with cheer. “Congratulations. You’ve got yourself a good little earner. I’ll let you off the hook this time.”

  He turned and left with his men, laughing.

  As soon as the door slammed shut, June collapsed, her knees giving out beneath her. Jace, drunk on adrenaline and resentment, stormed over and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back. “You little bitch!” he spat. “Didn’t know you were hiding that kind of money. What else are you keeping from me, huh? Hand it over!”

  “I don’t have anything else!” June screamed, struggling against him. “You’ve gambled away everything! Why don’t you just drop dead already?!”

  The slap came hard, snapping her head to the side. “You ungrateful brat! I’m your father! You owe me!”

  Blood dripped from her lip as she crumpled to the floor, dazed and unmoving. Jace muttered a curse and walked away, grabbing a few beers from the fridge. He flopped onto the couch and turned on the TV like nothing had happened.

  Video game sounds filled the room, blending with the muffled sobs and desperate pounding from the locked bedroom door.

  Aria was still crying. Still begging to be let out. But no one was listening.

  ......

  In the quiet of the piano room, Atticus watched Clarissa finish the first half of the piece. The final note faded into the still air before she turned to him with a soft look.

  “Atticus, do you know this part?” she asked gently.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “More or less.”

  Under her attentive gaze, Atticus placed his slender fingers on the keys and began to play. The melody emerged slowly, not perfect, but steady, precise—his touch already more mature than expected.

  When he lifted his hands, Clarissa exhaled, part surprise, part admiration.