Sold For A Night, Bound For A Lifetime

Chapter 7

Kayla’s POV-

After that explosive day with Sarah, I knew I couldn't just sit around feeling sorry for myself.

The world didn't stop turning just because my life fell apart. My mother wasn't speaking to me, my money was running low, and the rent was coming up. I needed a job right now.

I spent three days walking into every shop, restaurant, and office along the streets with a printed CV. Most places slammed the door in my face or told me they were not hiring. But on the fourth day, luck finally came my way.

I walked past Glow & Grace, a big elite makeup studio right in the middle of the city's fashion district. The place smelled like vanilla, fresh roses, and designer perfume. Through the glass windows, I could see white marble counters, glowing ring lights, and stylists working on wealthy clients.

Normally, someone looking as tired as I did wouldn't even step foot inside a place like that. But desperation makes you brave, they say.

I walked straight up to the front desk, and asked to speak to the manager, and the lady told me to wait and went inside. A few minutes later she came out with an elegant looking woman-The manger

To my surprise, the manager—a sharp woman named Brenda—looked at my worn shoes, looked at my tired eyes, and gave me a chance.

"We need a receptionist," Brenda told me, tapping her nails against the counter. "You will answer phones, manage client bookings, and keep this front desk running. We do not tolerate drama, and we deal with very high-profile clients. Keep your head down, do your job well, and you have a week of trial. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, my heart lifting with joy for the first time in weeks. "You won't regret this."

My first week at Glow & Grace makeup studio was a relief. It was hard work standing for hours, greeting clients, and managing schedules, but it kept my mind off my mother's silence towards me.

By the end of my first week, I finished my shift and caught the bus home. The sun was setting, painting the sky in purple and orange. When I unlocked my apartment door, a wave of warmth hit me. I had a job and I was earning my own money.

I should call Mom, I thought.

Even though she had chased me out, a stubborn part of my heart still hoped time had cooled her anger. I dropped my bag, pulled out my phone, and dialed her number.

Rinng... Rinng... Rinng...

It rang out. No answer.

I tried again. Straight to voicemail.

A heavy lump formed in my throat. She was still ignoring me. She couldn't even bear to hear my voice. The spark of hope was gone, leaving me alone in the apartment.

"Stupid," I muttered, wiping a tear away.

Then, a strange, burning smell drifted into my nose.

Oh, no.

I had put a noodles on the gas and forgot about it. I ran into the kitchen. The pot was dry, blackened at the bottom, and thick black smoke was rising toward the ceiling.

I rushed forward, turned off the gas, and coughed as I waved my hands to clear the air, opening the small window. The noodles were completely ruined, turned into a black brick.

I sat down on the kitchen floor, pulled my knees to my chest, and cried. I had a job, but at the end of the day, I was still completely alone.

Three weeks later...

Life settled into a routine. Three weeks passed at Glow & Grace studio without any issue. I learned the rules, memorized the VIP client lists, and saved some cash. I hadn't spoken to my mother, and I hadn't heard from Sarah. I was surviving day by day.

Until one Thursday afternoon.

The studio was playing quiet music when the front glass door swung open, bringing a wave of heavy perfume and loud energy.

-Stella Vance.

Stella was a rising social media influencer with a massive ego and a bad reputation. She had bright blonde hair, heavy makeup, and a scowl on her face. She strolled in with two massive bodyguards in black suits who looked ready to punch anyone.

"Where is my regular stylist?!" Stella asked before reaching the front desk, tossing her designer bag onto my clean white counter. "I specifically booked Tristan for two o'clock, and your system says he is running late! Do you know who I am? I can ruin this entire business on my page with one story!"

I forced a professional smile on my face, standing up straight behind the desk.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Vance," I said, keeping my voice calm. "Tristan is finishing up a bride's makeup that ran slightly over schedule, but he will be right back soon to attend to you. Can I offer you some water or coffee while you wait?"

Stella rolled her eyes. "Water? Please. Do I look like a peasant? Bring me a caramel cappuccino right now, extra hot, and extra sweet.."

"Right away," I murmured, turning around to grab the iPad to log her arrival.

Five minutes later, I carefully carried a ceramic mug filled with hot caramel cappuccino out from the break room toward the seating area where Stella was scrolling through her phone.

"Here is your coffee, Ms. Vance—"

Right as I leaned down to place the mug on the glass table, Stella shoved her arm backward with a sharp smack—smashing her elbow straight into my hand.

Hot liquid poured everywhere as the drink splashed across my blouse, soaking my chest and burning my skin, while the heavy ceramic mug flew out of my hand and shattered against the floor.

I gasped, stumbling back as a sharp sting radiated across my chest.

"What the hell?!" Stella shrieked, jumping up from the couch as if she was the victim, throwing her hands in the air. "Are you blind, you clumsy i***t? You just ruined my designer top! Look at this! You did this on purpose, you jealous nobody!"

Before I could process the burning pain or defend myself, Stella did something shocking.

She looked down at the shattered ceramic pieces on the floor, took a breath, and threw herself backward, falling hard onto the tile floor beside the glass pieces, letting out a scream.

"Ahhh! Help! She attacked me! She poured hot coffee on me and pushed me!" Stella wailed, crocodile tears appearing in her eyes as she clutched her arm.

"Ms. Vance!"

Instantly, her two massive bodyguards charged forward, slamming their hands onto my desk and cornering me.

"What did you do to her?!" one bodyguard barked.

"I didn't touch her!" I yelled back, panic rushing through my chest as people in the studio stared at us in shock. "She knocked it out of my hand! She fell on purpose!"

"Shut up, you lying imbecile!" Stella cried from the floor, playing the victim while her phone recorded everything. "She's aggressive! Look at her! She attacked me!"

The studio erupted into chaos. Clients whispered, and within seconds, Brenda the manager pushed her way through the crowd, her face pale.

"What is going on here?!" Brenda demanded, looking between Stella sobbing on the floor and me trembling behind the desk.

"She tried to burn me and then shoved me to the ground!" Stella wailed. "If you don't fire her right now and pay for my damages, I am suing this studio into bankruptcy!"

Brenda’s eyes shifted towards me, flashing with panic. "Kayla Is this true?!"

"No! ma'am, I swear to God, it's not!" I pleaded, my voice cracking as hot tears spilled over my cheeks. "She shoved my arm! She knocked the coffee out and threw herself on the floor! Ask anyone—"

"Nobody asked you anything!" Brenda hissed, cutting me off, terrified of the influencer's social media reach. She hurried over to help Stella up.

"Oh, Ms. Vance, I am so sorry! Please, let's get you to the VIP lounge, we will handle this immediately—"

"Fire her! I want her gone tonight!" Stella snapped.

Brenda shot me a cold look over her shoulder.

"Kayla," Brenda said, her voice dripping with ice. "Get your bag. You are suspended. Take a three-day leave starting right now. You need to learn some basic respect. This is an elite studio, not a street corner. We will discuss your termination on Monday."

She didn't wait for me to answer. She turned her back, walking with the stella as they walked toward the back rooms.

My chest tightened. The humiliation burned hotter than the coffee. I didn't say another word. I didn't beg. I grabbed my bag from behind the desk, ripped my name tag off my shirt, threw it on the floor, and marched right out of the front glass doors into the evening air.

Night had fallen completely by the time I started walking home.

My shift had ended in disaster, I was about to lose my job again, my chest was stinging from the burn, and I was drowning in self-pity.

I had enough money in my bag to take a taxi, but I was stubborn and angry. I didn't care. I just wanted to walk. I wanted the cold night air to touch the pain on my skin.

It was a mistake.

I took a shortcut through a narrow, dimly lit alleyway lined by brick walls and flickering streetlights. It was late, and the neighborhood was silent except for the distant hum of traffic.

As I walked faster, hugging my bag tightly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind me.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I quickened my movement. The footsteps sped up too.

Before I could turn around, two dark figures lunged out from the shadows, blocking my path. They wore dark hoodies pulled low, and one of them flashed a smile in the dim light.

"Well, look what we have here," the first guy sneered. "Hand over the bag, sweetie. Nice and easy, and nobody gets hurt."

"No! Leave me alone! please" I screamed, clutching the straps of my bag, trying to move past them.

"Hey b***h!" the second guy snarled.

He lunged forward, grabbing the strap of my bag and yanking it with brutal force. I refused to let go. I pulled back, kicking and screaming, but he was too strong. With a sharp movement, he pulled a sharp pocket knife from his jacket.

"Let go or I'll slice you open!" he yelled.

"No!" I sobbed, gripping the bag tighter.

In a flash of pain, he swiped the knife downward. I felt a stinging tear rip across my wrist, followed instantly by a warm gush of blood soaking through my sleeve.

I gasped, the shock of the pain making my knees weaken. My grip loosened.

"Got it—" the thief started to grin, pulling the bag.

CRACK!.

A heavy, sound echoed through the alley, like a baseball bat slamming into a watermelon.

Before the first thief could finish his sentence, his eyes rolled back, and he dropped straight down onto the pavement like a sack of potatoes, unconscious.

The second thief froze, his eyes widening in terror as he looked down at his partner, then snapped his head up.

"What the—"

SWISH—CRACK.

A second heavy blow caught the second thief square across the head, sending him spinning backward before he crashed against the brick wall and slid down into the dirt, out cold.

I stood there trembling, clutching my bleeding wrist with my opposite hand, staring in stunned disbelief at the two unconscious men at my feet.

I slowly raised my eyes.

Standing right behind them, holding a wooden baseball bat over her shoulder with a dangerous swagger, wearing a biker jacket and a look of pure seriousness, was none other than Sarah.

Removing a stray strand of hair out of her face, she looked down at the two thieves on the ground, then slowly shifted her eyes up to meet mine.