Beautiful Scar

The worst betrayal

JENNIFER'S POV

"Why do you need my help?" He repeats himself. His voice is lower this time. I swallow slowly and carefully. But I have come too far to give up. I snapped into a serious expression.

"My brother is there, and I must get him out. "Apparently, he’s drunk and called me to get him home," I say. The moment these words escape my mouth and I hear myself, I realize how untrue and unrealistic my words may sound.

The drop-dead handsome man quirks his brows in question. He then appraises me with his eyes before looking at the club entrance, and I urgently feel the urge to sink into the ground and hide. But my words are valid, and my impatience grows slowly.

His lips lift in a slight smirk that suddenly disappears.

"Hmm," he hums, and I wonder what that means.

He proceeds to go in, and as he brushes past me, I stand there looking lost—like an actual drenched rat. Did that handsome fucker just ignore me?

"Don't you want to go in again?" He stops in his tracks but doesn't bother to glance back at me.

I turned immediately, and surprise marred my face. Who had time for surprises?

I quickly rushed to his side and followed quietly and obediently behind him. Now I look so small. Mind you, as a woman, I am pretty tall.

When we reach the club entrance, I expect him to flash his membership card like the previous girl had done, but he doesn’t. He proceeds inside freely, the men bowing to him as if he’s some god. They even flash me flattering smiles as I follow him inside.

So… he is a big fish, after all.

I stopped after the entrance and thanked him profusely. "Thank you so much. You are so kind."

I don’t forget to flatter him before venturing into the leading club to search for my brother.

The moment I enter the leading club, with its booming music and flashing disco lights, I must confess—I am flabbergasted by the sight before me.

It feels like every single thing here is money. Even the music blasting from the stereo sounds like money. I know it sounds stupid, but really.

I dug out my phone once again and called my brother. And guess what? He doesn't pick up! He doesn’t answer any of his calls!

I let out a frustrated groan. It’s already frustrating enough that I’m so close to losing my gig, but now I have to stand in this strange place where I stick out like a frigging oddball. And I do not like the feeling one bit.

I take a deep breath before plunging myself into the sea of exquisite people to search for my brother.

Someone taps my shoulder as I scan the crowd. I turned to see a bucked-up man. He looks exactly like those bouncers outside the door.

"Can I help you?" I call at the top of my voice since the music in the room is deafening.

"Are you looking for a certain Matteo?" he asks, his voice booming over the noise.

I arch my brows, utterly surprised he knows who I’m looking for, but I still nod.

He then motions for me to follow him, which I do obediently—glad this is finally ending. I need to grab Matteo and Zap.

I followed him through the crowd and down the winding corridors of the club. We finally come to an abrupt stop in front of a private room.

Questions keep flying through my head. How was Matteo able to afford a private room?

The man opens the door for me and then nods before leaving.

I walked inside tentatively, not bothering to close the door because that would not be safe.

Inside, I see my brother sitting on a black couch, surrounded by a group of men.

"Jen, hey, thanks for coming," Matteo says with a slur to his voice, barely able to keep his face straight.

My eyes widen, and my knees suddenly feel weak.

Oh Lord! Not again.

His face is poorly battered—his eyes swollen, his lips busted.

A feeling of déjà vu hits me. I must have been foolish to think anything different would happen.

I brace myself and maintain a monotone when I ask, "What's happening, Matteo? You said you needed my help."

I can feel the eyes of the men on me, their interest as they size me up. My heart begins to thump so hard it might as well jump out of my throat.

"Go on," one of the men sitting opposite Matt sneers at him.

From the look, he seems like the boss in this situation, which rubs me the wrong way.

"Tell your sister why she’s here, Matteo."

Matteo squirms, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape.

My heart drops to my stomach.

What has my brother done?

I can see the menacing looks on these men’s faces—especially the man in the chair opposite Matteo. He not only has a hideous scar running through his eye and down his lips, but his entire body is tattooed—and not in a sexy way at all.

My heart began to throb against my chest. Matteo wouldn’t do this again…

"I owe them a lot of money," Jen said. A lot of money.

My blood chills because I know where this is headed. I’ve been here before—this situation where my brother gambles, loses a ton of money, and I have to bail him out with sweat and blood.

And honestly? I am tired of this cycle.

I am financially drained, and he doesn’t seem to care. I pay his rent and feed him, but he forgets it’s hard on me, too!

I don’t have money stacked somewhere like some money mogul. I wouldn’t be stuck in a rat-infested, dingy basement if I did. I wouldn’t be in the process of becoming homeless. At this point, Matteo pushed me toward the latter.

My hands tighten around the strap of my bag as I think about how the money I slaved away over the past week is about to go down the drain.

"Hh-how much?" My voice quivers as the surrounding men look like drooling dogs, ready to pounce.

"Oh, she has the money, see?" Matteo looks at the other men as if to appease them, but this causes my heart to squeeze so tight I feel suffocated.

I blinked hard and repeated the question, secretly glad the door was opening. "How much?"

"Ten thousand dollars," he slurs, his voice scratchy and his face unbearable.

Then what?!

My lips part as a gasp escapes them.

"Matt, how did you manage that?"

The scary, tattooed man sitting opposite Matteo chuckles and leans forward. "Your big brother bites more than he can chew—or even swallow."

He turns to Matteo, who shrinks into his chair, whimpering like a wounded dog. Then, he roughly grabs Matteo’s jaw, causing him to let out an excruciating cry.

The man maintains eye contact with me. Matteo’s cries made me shiver, my chest tightening even more. Maybe the part of me that isn’t done with my brother still exists—the part that believes he will wake up from this nightmare and become the better person he used to be before Mom’s death.

"Big Brother here loves to play, but too bad he’s terrible at gambling—and has been owing a lot." The man kept his gaze on me. "I had mercy on him and let go of the remaining five hundred dollars for the sake of… you know, benevolence!"

He laughs in awe that such words left his lips moments ago.

I take a deep breath, still struggling to process the information dumped on me. "I don’t have that kind of money. I don’t even know where I can get that amount."

"Now, don’t be a bore," the man pouts mockingly. "Your brother here says you have the money—or rather, 'You will be capable of raising it.' That's right, Matteo?"

Matteo stays silent.

And that’s when it hits me.

This is either a debt I pay with money or something else.