Just a Tip
1109 Words
The sunlight crept in quietly, tracing a line across the duvet before it reached Serena’s closed eyelids. The softness of the bed, the faint scent of cologne, and the distant hum of traffic ten floors below reminded her she wasn’t in her apartment.
Then she remembered.
The penthouse. Last night. Louis.
She stirred slowly, every limb sore like she’d danced through a storm. Then the sharp buzz of her phone broke the fragile silence. She fumbled on the nightstand, knocking a designer watch off the edge before finally catching her phone. The screen glared back: Unknown Number.
“Hello?”
“Miss Serena Wen?” a male voice said, professional but a little pushy. “This is Dr. Patel from St. Jude’s. I’m calling about your mother’s outstanding bill.”
Serena sat up straight, heart sinking.
“Right, of course,” she said, pulling the sheet around herself. “How much is left?”
“We still haven’t received the payment from last month. It’s eight thousand, not including the next round of treatment.”
Her stomach dropped. “Can I pay part of it now?”
“We do offer installments, but the medication won’t be dispensed without a minimum deposit.”
“Okay. I’ll get back to you later today.”
She hung up and dropped the phone on the bed beside her.
Eight thousand. She barely had eight hundred. Her bank account was an embarrassing reminder of how quickly things could fall apart in this city. And even after being given a second shot at life, she was still broke.
Her gaze slid toward the open door leading to the living room. Through the sheer curtain, she could see him, Louis. Tall, composed, seated in a lounge chair with a tablet in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other. The very image of ease and quiet wealth.
The thought made her pull the sheet tighter, as if it could shield her from the weight of last night. But… if she remembered correctly, in her past life, Louis had helped Veronica shoot to stardom. It started with a single opportunity and snowballed into endorsements, awards, everything.
He was a Hollywood investor with a side job as producer, the kind who didn’t need to raise his voice to get people to move. Rumor had it he was the younger son of a certain billionaire, with all the resources he got so easily in the entertainment industry. Serena hadn’t believed those stories—until last night.
Last night had been surreal. Champagne. Low lights. A hotel suite big enough to get lost in. And Louis, who’d stared at her like he already knew she wasn’t Veronica but chose to let it slide. She’d kept her voice soft, even mimicking Veronica’s sultry tone during s*x. But at the end, when her guard dropped and she sighed out his name in her real voice, he’d stilled.
He hadn’t said anything, but she knew. He knew.
So if he could invest that much in Veronica, was asking for a few thousand really that outrageous?
It was business, wasn’t it?
Serena climbed out of bed, wrapped herself in a new silk robe that definitely wasn’t hers, and padded toward the main room. The penthouse was quiet, sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Louis was sitting on the balcony, coffee in one hand, tablet in the other. Crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled, tie loose around his neck. He didn’t even glance up as she slid the glass door open.
“You’re up,” he said, voice smooth as always.
“Yeah,” she replied. “Thanks for… last night.”
His eyes finally met hers—sharp, unreadable. “You don’t have to say thank you. We both got what we wanted.”
Did we?
Serena nodded like she agreed. “So… about the audition—”
“I had someone pull some strings,” Louis interrupted. “Veronica’s out. You’re in.”
That made her blink in confusion. “Just like that?”
“She had her shot,” he said simply. “She blew it.”
Serena wasn’t sure if he meant it that literally, but she didn’t ask. The fact that she was getting the part Veronica had once bragged about endlessly felt surreal.
She pressed her hands together. “Also… there’s something else.”
Louis raised an eyebrow.
“I—I have some personal stuff to take care of. My mom’s in the hospital. The bill’s overdue. I wouldn’t usually ask but…” She trailed off, hoping he’d understand.
“You want money,” he said flatly.
She stiffened, then forced a soft smile. “Just a tip. I mean, considering… everything.”
Louis looked at her like she was something interesting under a microscope. Then he reached for his phone and transferred the funds without another word.
“Check your account,” he said.
Serena pulled out her phone and saw the notification. Five thousand.
Not enough to clear everything, but enough to keep things going for now.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“You’re welcome,” Louis replied. He gave a faint smirk and returned to his reading. “Just remember, this is business.”
Serena took the hint and stepped back inside to grab her things. She paused at the mirror by the door. Her makeup was smudged, and her hair was a mess. She looked like a woman who’d made a deal with the devil—and walked away richer.
On her way out of the suite, she nearly collided with a familiar figure in the hallway, Wesley Smith.
He was standing by the elevator, phone in hand, wearing a smug grin like he already knew how the night went.
“Well, you're late,” he said with a frown.
Serena’s spine straightened. “Wesley.”
“How was your night?”
She gave him a sweet, polished smile. “Exactly what you wanted.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “You impressed him?”
“Seems like it.”
“You’re not planning to forget who got you in there, right?”
Her smile didn’t falter. “Of course not. I owe it all to you.”
Wesley watched her like a hawk trying to decide if the mouse was faking dead. “You play nice, Serena. That’s the only way this works.”
“I’m always nice.”
The elevator dinged. She stepped in and turned around just before the doors closed.
Her smile was still in place, but her eyes had turned cold.
This time, she wasn’t here to play nice.
She was here to stay.
- Writer
