The price of silence
970 Words
The moment I stepped into the club, the music felt louder than usual—like it was screaming for my attention. Flashing lights pulsed across the floor in colors I couldn’t name, and bodies moved in rhythm, uncaring and unapologetic.
I was anything but.
The second I walked in, Donny noticed. Of course he did. The man was a walking lie detector, even when draped in glitter and false bravado.
His brow furrowed as he handed off the drink tray to a girl who’d just clocked in. “You look like you fought a war and lost.”
“Feel like it too,” I muttered.
He tilted his head toward the back. “Office. Now.”
I didn’t argue. I followed him past the velvet curtain, past the long hallway soaked in perfumes and secrets, until we were inside the tiny room that somehow still smelled like cherry cigars and fake leather.
Donny shut the door behind us.
I didn’t sit. I leaned against the desk like the weight in my chest might drag me down if I didn’t hold onto something.
“You gonna tell me, or should I guess?”
I sighed. “You remember that guy?”
“The one who looked like sin and danger? Yeah, I remember. You looked like you were ready to claw his eyes out—or undress him with your teeth. I couldn’t decide.”
I don't remember that happening, but leave it to donny to turn one single look into that.
I huffed, a humorless smile twitching at the corners of my mouth. “He offered me a deal.”
“Drugs?”
I shook my head.
“Escort work?”
“Marriage.”
Donny blinked. “Okay, definitely wasn’t expecting that.”
I pushed off the desk and began pacing, the words falling out of me like confessions to a priest. “Six months. No intimacy unless mutual. I move into his penthouse, act the doting wife in public, follow his lead, and in exchange—he pays off everything. All of it. My debt. My dad’s treatment. Wipes the slate clean.”
He stared like I’d grown a second head. “And you’re seriously considering this?”
“I already told him yes,” I said, voice quiet. “Not in words. Not yet. But I got in his car, Donny. I listened. I took the goddamn contract.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re not gonna dance anymore, are you?”
I hesitated.
That was the part that hadn’t been said out loud. Ethan never actually told me to stop. But it was in the way he looked at me. Like I was beneath the image he was crafting. Like I’d already crossed that line between who I was and who he needed me to become.
“No,” I said finally, almost like I was trying to convince myself. “No, I don’t think I will.”
“You sure about that?”
“I... He never said I had to quit. But I’m quitting.”
Donny studied me. “You don’t look sure. You look haunted.”
I laughed bitterly. “That’s because I am.”
He stood slowly, walked over to me. “Layla. Are you okay with this? I mean, really. Do you trust this guy?”
My silence was the answer.
“No,” I whispered. “I don’t. But I don’t have a choice. He’s got leverage, and he’ll use it. He’ll call on the debt collectors. He made that clear. And they’re not as... civil as he is.”
Donny flinched at the word.
Civil.
A man like Ethan Reed didn’t need fists when he had power. And that was the scariest part.
Donny shook his head. “This is madness.”
“Madness is a luxury I can’t afford anymore.”
His expression softened, all the glitz melting off like paint in the rain. “You know I’ll be here, right? Whenever you need me. Wherever you are.”
I looked up at him, and for the first time all night, my vision blurred.
“That’s the only thing I’m sure of in my entire life,” I said in a hush.
He pulled me into a hug. His arms were warm and familiar. They didn’t promise salvation. Just safety. And for someone like me, that was enough.
We sat on the ratty old couch in silence. The club music was a faint thrum through the walls, a heartbeat of a world that was about to forget I existed.
Donny didn’t speak. He just waited. Like he always did.
And I thought about it.
About what six months would look like.
Living in a home that wasn’t mine. Sleeping near a man who didn’t know how to feel, let alone love. Pretending to be someone I wasn’t—every single day, on camera, on cue.
Would I recognize myself by the end of it?
Would my father?
Would I still be Layla Greene, or just a shadow with perfect makeup and silent screams?
Donny cleared his throat. “What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing. Just... let me sit here for a while.”
He nodded, eyes full of everything he didn’t say.
I rested my head on his shoulder. Let the comfort wash over me, because I knew it wouldn’t last.
Ethan’s world wasn’t soft. It didn’t allow space for hesitation or fear. It consumed.
And I’d just stepped into the lion’s den, wearing a dress stitched from desperation and pride.
I’d signed nothing yet, but that didn’t matter. He already owned the pieces of me I couldn’t afford to keep.
And deep down, I knew…
The moment I step into his home again—there would be no going back.
- Writer
