The billionaire’s secret

The rain hammered against the window as Ana stared at the clock, cursing under her breath. She fumbled with the few rumpled dollar bills in her purse, counting them for the third time. “Dexter’s going to kill me,” she muttered, tying her hair up into a messy bun. The clock read 9:30 p.m., and she needed to be at the event by ten. Grabbing her umbrella, she rushed to the door. “Mia, I’m leaving!” she called over the sound of the movie blaring from Mia’s laptop. Mia paused the screen and lazily turned her head. “What?” “Don’t wait up for me,” Ana replied, blowing her a kiss before slamming the door shut. Mia rolled her eyes and pressed play. Ana hurried into a taxi, which quickly dropped her off at the theater. Without wasting a moment, she rushes inside, heading straight backstage. “You were supposed to be here before 10! What the hell is wrong with you?” Dexter’s voice cut through the silence as Ana hurried to the hallway, slightly drenched by the rain. “I’m so sorry,” she stammered, checking her phone. 10:13 p.m. Shit! Dexter glared at her, then turned sharply, heading toward the dressing room as Ana followed, clutching her damp bag. “Get ready before the host finishes the intro. You’re on next,” he snapped, lighting a cigarette. “Yes, Mr. Dexter.” Ana kept her voice steady, avoiding his piercing gaze. Dexter stood a moment longer, his eyes drifting over her. “Remember, Candy. That’s your stage name tonight.” He smirked, exhaling smoke, then left the room. Ana let out a shaky breath and reached for her outfit, peeling off her damp clothes. As she was halfway through changing, a squeaky sound from the door made her freeze. “Don’t keep your audience waiting,” Dexter said, leaning against the doorframe. He stares far too long on her exposed skin. Ana snatched her bag, gripping the pepper spray inside, her heart racing. “I said I’ll be out in a minute,” she snapped, her voice trembling. He chuckled, taking another puff of his cigarette. “Good. Don’t screw this up.” The door clicked shut behind him. What an asshole. Ana sighed, pulling herself together as she got dressed. She hears the cheers coming from the crowd. “We have an absolutely beautiful performer tonight,” the host announced, his voice dripping with charm. “Please welcome… Candy!” The crowd applauded as Ana stepped onto the stage, in her blue sparkly dress. She forced a smile, as she sang with the melody when the music began. Every of her dance steps had been rehearsed to perfection. From backstage, Dexter watched her like a hawk, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Ana's eyes moved through the crowd, her confidence faltering when she spotted a familiar suited man in the VIP lounge. Jack Brown? No, it can’t be. Her heart skipped. She stumbled slightly, her mind racing. The crowd gasped, and Dexter’s face darkened. Panic set in as she regained her steps. “I’m fine,” she says inaudibly, gesturing to the crowd. She glanced back at Jack, who seemed uninterested, focused on his phone. The DJ ended the set with a loud bass drop getting Jacks attention. The silence was deafening as humiliation crawled through her. Ana blinked back tears, fighting to keep her composure as the host returned to the stage. “Well… that was… something,” he joked, blowing out a dramatic breath. The crowd chuckled, but Ana felt the weight of their judgment as she retreated backstage. Jack stares as she walks off, teeth clenched. “She looks like everything to me” says a middle aged man dressed almost the same as Jack. “Yes, asides the fall” another added, as he chuckled. Jack lets out a sigh, grabs a glass of whiskey and gulps a mouth full. He clenched his jaw in distaste. “Is this the s**t I came here to see?! I thought they had some professionals?” He signals to a waiter, who walks up towards him slightly fidgeting. “Do you need anything sir?” “I need to see the manager”. The waiter stood nodding as if collecting what he said. “Now!” He shouted, bringing back the waiter’s senses. “I-I’m afraid sir, he won’t be able to see you now till after the show”. He stares back at the stage as other dancers perform, “This mess you call a show?”, he mocks. Returning his face to the waiter. “Get me to the manager”. The waiter hesitates nervously adjusting his tray. "Sir, I can request his business line for you to call him. Or—" "Where is he?" ***** “What the hell was that?” Dexter exploded, pacing furiously. “You embarrassed me in front of everyone! Do you have any idea who’s out there tonight?” Ana winced, her feet still throbbing from the fall. “It was an accident,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “An accident?!” He stalked toward her, his fists clenched. “You were supposed to be the highlight of the night!” “I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking away. “It won’t happen again.” “Sorry doesn’t fix this!” His voice dropped, low and menacing. In a flash, his hand shot out, gripping her throat. Ana gasped, her hands clawing at his wrist. “Do you think an apology solves anything?” he hissed, his face inches from hers. Her vision blurred as she struggled for air. “Y-you’re hurting me,” she choked out, tears streaming down her face. Dexter’s fist connected with her cheek, sending her to the floor. Pain exploded in her face as she tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her arm, yanking her back. “You ungrateful little—” He stopped, breathing heavily, his knuckles bruised. Turning toward the mirror, he straightened his shirt as if nothing had happened. Curled on the floor, Ana holding her face, sobbing quietly. “Why are you so mean to me?” she whispered. “I said I was sorry.” Dexter glanced at her reflection in the mirror, his expression unreadable. His phone buzzed on the counter, but he ignored it. Ana’s body trembled, pain radiating through her as she slowly sat up. “You don’t have to treat me like this,” she said, her voice shaking. For a moment, Dexter said nothing, his shoulders stiff. Then his phone rang again.