Crimson Striptease: The Billionaire's Hidden Child

Chapter 3 Simon Is Missing

The manager led me down a long hallway and stopped in front of an office.

"Sir, Ms. Kassia is here."

I stepped inside and immediately saw Emile. He was seated on a leather couch, looking as refined as ever in a perfectly tailored suit.

At the sight of me, he stood, extending a hand with an easy smile.

"We meet again, Kassia. It's hard to call this anything but fate."

I hesitated. Not only did he recognize me, but he also remembered my name.

I offered a polite smile.

"It certainly is a coincidence. Though I'm not sure why you specifically asked to see me."

Instead of answering, Emile glanced at the manager. Taking the hint, the man excused himself and shut the door behind him.

Emile took a step closer, his smile deepening. "Because you got my attention. Now I'm interested in you."

I stiffened, instinctively stepping back to maintain some distance.

Avoiding his gaze, I replied, "Mr. Wilson, that's not a very funny joke."

"It's not a joke." His expression turned serious. "I truly enjoyed watching you dance last night. You were confident, radiant, like an angel sent from the heavens."

His straightforward praise caught me off guard. I wasn't a professional dancer. I had learned everything on the job, and most of my performance was far from perfect.

And as for being an angel... That felt like a cruel irony. If I were an angel, why couldn't I save my own son?

Forcing a bitter smile, I said, "Thank you for your kind words, sir. But I'm just a beginner. I only took the job to support my family, and I certainly don't deserve such high praise."

Emile shook his head, rejecting my humility. "No, you don't understand your own allure."

Before I could react, his hand slipped around my waist, pulling me against him.

His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unreadable. "I want to own you, Kassia. If you're willing, I'll pay you far more than you could ever earn at the club."

My breath caught, and I frowned in disbelief.

Was he saying what I thought he was saying? He was offering to buy my body?

Rage flared in my chest. I shoved him away, my voice sharp. "Mr. Wilson, show some respect. I may be a dancer, but I am not a prostitute."

Without waiting for a response, I spun on my heel and stormed out of the office. I had thought he was different, refined and sophisticated. But he was just like the rest—thinking money could buy anything.

Disgusted, I left the mall, hoping that I would never run into him again.

Outside, I carried Simon's supplies and waited for the bus to take me back to the hospital. The crowd at the stop was larger than usual, packed tightly as they waited for their ride.

I tried to squeeze my way forward, but just as I reached the door, the bus driver pulled it shut.

"Full house! Wait for the next one," he called.

The next bus wouldn't arrive for another hour. It was lunchtime, and Simon was still in the hospital, waiting for me.

Frustration tightened my chest. The midday traffic meant taxis were all occupied. Short of walking, I had no other choice but to wait.

"Where to? I can give you a ride."

Just then, a limited-edition Porsche rolled to a stop in front of me. The window lowered, revealing a familiar face. It was Emile.

He always seemed to appear when I least expected him.

He pushed open the door, his voice smooth as ever. "Ms. Kassia, it will take forever to get on a bus here. Let me give you a ride."

I hesitated, my pride warring with my urgency. But Simon was waiting.

Swallowing my reluctance, I climbed in. "Thank you, Mr. Wilson."

"My pleasure." He reached over, pulling the seatbelt across me with a smile. "So, where are we going?"

"Clevermore Hospital. Thanks," I answered, keeping my tone polite but distant.

His brows furrowed slightly. "The hospital? Are you feeling unwell?"

"No. I'm visiting my son. He's sick—nephrotic syndrome."

Emile froze. He seemed surprised after learning that I had a son.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said after a moment, his voice quieter than before. "I didn't know you had a child... or that you were married."

I let out a chuckle. "I'll take that as a compliment."

He gave a slight nod. "It is one. And... I apologize for earlier. I didn't mean to offend you."

His sincerity surprised me. Maybe I had been too quick to judge.

He dropped me off at the hospital, but before I could walk inside, he stepped out of the car and called after me.

"Ms. Kassia." His blue eyes held something unreadable. "May God bless your son."

I offered him a grateful smile. "Thank you." With that, I turned and hurried into the hospital.

Maybe he wasn't as terrible as I had thought. What had happened at his office must be a misunderstanding.

I rushed inside, eager to see Simon. But when I reached his room, I stopped dead in my tracks. The bed was empty. The sheets were neatly folded, and the machines were turned off.

Panic shot through me.

The bag in my hands slipped to the floor as I grabbed the nearest nurse. "Where's my son? Why isn't he here?"

The nurse blinked in confusion. "You didn't know? Your husband came by earlier. He signed the discharge papers and took him home. He also requested a refund for the medical bills. He said he wasn't going to continue the treatment."

A chill ran down my spine. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Then, pure fury erupted inside me.

That heartless bastard!

I stormed out of the hospital and raced home. The moment I stepped into the house, I saw Ted lounging on the sofa, puffing on one of his overpriced cigars.

He barely looked up as he greeted me. "Back from the hospital?"

I ignored him, marching upstairs to find Simon.

"Don't bother," he called lazily. "He's not here."

Without thinking, I strode forward, ripped the cigar from his mouth, and crushed it under my heel.

Then, grabbing his collar, I snarled, "Where is Simon? Tell me!"

Ted smirked and shoved me off. "You want to see him? Fine. Sign this."

It was a divorce agreement. Underneath it, a few photographs were pressed beneath the pages.

He wanted a divorce? Perfect. I had been waiting for this moment.

But as I reached for the pen, my eyes caught a detail in the document. Ted was demanding one million dollars as a "psychological compensation fee".

Fury roared inside me. I threw the pen down. "Are you out of your damn mind? Why the hell would I pay you a million dollars?"

Ted tapped a finger against the photos. "Because of these."

The moment my eyes landed on them, my blood ran cold.