Signed away by my step father

CHAPTER 4

I snapped my head up. Standing in the doorway, completely out of place against the greasy, outdated decor of the bistro, was Daisy. She was wearing a stunning, form-fitting emerald green dress, her hair styled in sleek waves, and her makeup perfectly done. She looked radiant, powerful, and entirely unstoppable.

Richard frowned, recognizing her. "Daisy. Sylvia is still on clock. She has to count down the drawer."

"Actually, she doesn't," Daisy said, walking straight up to the counter and grabbing my wrist with a firm, uncompromising grip. "Because her shift ended ten minutes ago, and I am invoking my rights as her best friend. We're leaving."

"She has chores—" Richard started, taking a threatening step forward.

"Let her go, Richard," my mother's voice suddenly cut in from the back booth. She had just come out of the office, her face pale and exhausted. She looked at Richard with a strange, pleading desperation that I had never seen before. "It's fine. I'll count down the drawer tonight. Just... let them go."

Richard stared at my mother, his jaw tight, before glancing back down at his buzzing phone. With an annoyed grunt, he waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever. Get out of my sight. Don't be late tomorrow."

Daisy didn't give him a chance to change his mind. She practically dragged me out the front door and into the cool night air. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, I let out a massive breath, the heavy weight of the restaurant instantly lifting.

"What are you doing?" I asked, looking down at my faded school uniform and stained apron. "Daisy, I look like a mess."

"You look like a girl who needs a serious upgrade," Daisy said, a brilliant, mischievous grin spreading across her face as she unlocked her car. "Pop the trunk. I brought three different dress options, a full makeup kit, and a curling iron that plugs into the cigarette lighter. We have exactly twenty minutes to get you ready."

"Ready for what?"

Daisy leaned in, her eyes sparkling with absolute affection. "Did you really think I’d let your eighteenth birthday pass by in that greasy kitchen? No way, Syl. Happy birthday. We are going to *Vanguard*."

My breath caught. *Vanguard* was the most exclusive, high-end executive club in the affluent center of the city. It was a place where tech tycoons, old-money billionaires, and celebrities congregated behind velvet ropes and security details. A single drink there cost more than my entire weekly envelope.

"Daisy, we can't afford that—"

"I saved up for six months for this night," Daisy cut me off, grabbing my shoulders gently. "You spend every single day living for other people, taking blows for a family that doesn't deserve you. Just for tonight, let me spoil you. Let's pretend you're exactly who you're meant to be: a queen."

A warmth bloomed in my chest, threatening to spill over into tears. I nodded, letting her push me into the passenger seat.

Twenty minutes later, the transformation was complete. Daisy had woven my hair into an elegant updo, leaving a few soft tendrils to frame my face, concealing the faint bruise near my hairline with thick concealer. She had dressed me in a simple, midnight-blue silk slip dress that draped perfectly over my frame. For the first time in my life, when I looked in the rearview mirror, I didn't see a victim. I saw someone beautiful.

As Daisy pulled up to the glittering, neon-lit facade of *Vanguard*, my heart began to race. Valet drivers in crisp white suits were opening doors for luxury sports cars. The sheer opulence of the place was intoxicating, dizzying.

"Ready?" Daisy asked, killing the engine and flashing me a wicked smile.

I took a deep breath, swallowing the nervousness fluttering in my stomach. "Ready."

We walked past the towering security guards, Daisy flashing a pair of exclusive VIP passes she must have pulled heaven and earth to get. The heavy bass of the club's music vibrated through the floorboards, matching the frantic rhythm of my heart. I had no idea that walking through those doors would change the trajectory of my life forever—or that the city's most ruthless tycoon was sitting just a few floors above us.

The air inside Vanguard was thick with the scent of expensive amber, premium gin, and clean sweat. Blue and purple neon lights sliced through the dim room, casting long, dramatic shadows across the leather booths and the sea of people moving to the heavy, throbbing bass. It felt completely surreal. I felt like an actress stepping onto a foreign stage, hyper-aware of the smooth silk of the midnight-blue dress whispering against my legs.

"To eighteen!" Daisy shouted over the music, slamming two tiny, glittering crystal glasses onto our high-top table. They were filled with a clear, sweet liquor that smelled faintly of elderflower. "Drink up, Syl. Tonight, the world belongs to you."

I hesitated, looking at the glass. I had never really drank before. My home life required absolute, hyper-vigilant sobriety; a single misstep or slurred word around Helen or Richard would be dangerous. But looking at Daisy’s bright, hopeful face, I wanted to let go. I wanted to forget the grease, the bruises, and the cold linoleum kitchen floor.

"To eighteen," I whispered, raising the glass and tipping it back.

The alcohol burned, a sharp, sweet fire that slid down my throat and instantly bloomed into a strange, blooming warmth in my stomach. It didn't taste like the cheap beer Richard drank. It tasted like luxury.

"Another one!" Daisy grinned, waving her hand at the bartender.

By the time the third glass touched my lips, the sharp edges of the world began to soften. The loud, overwhelming bass didn’t make my chest tighten with anxiety anymore; it felt like a secondary heartbeat, steady and grounding. The constant, buzzing fear that usually occupied the back of my mind fell completely silent. I laughed—a real, uninhibited laugh that felt completely foreign to my throat.

We danced near the edge of the VIP lounge for what felt like minutes but must have been hours. My head felt light, floating somewhere just above my shoulders. My vision caught on the glittering chandeliers, turning the bright lights into soft, blurry halos.

"I need... I need to find the restroom," I mumbled, leaning close to Daisy's ear as the room took a sudden, dizzying tilt to the left.

"Want me to come with?" Daisy asked, her eyes searching mine with instant protective instinct.

"No, stay. Keep our table," I smiled, patting her arm. "I'll be right back. I promise."

I navigated away from the dance floor, my feet feeling strangely disconnected from the ground beneath me. The main hallway was a blur of polished marble and gold accents. I pushed through a set of heavy, velvet curtains, looking for the familiar silhouette of the ladies' room sign, but the alcohol had turned my internal compass upside down.

Instead of a bathroom, I found myself in a quiet, carpeted corridor lined with heavy mahogany doors. The thumping bass of the club downstairs instantly muffled, replaced by a heavy, expensive silence. The air up here smelled different—richer, colder, laced with the scent of aged cedar and expensive tobacco.

*VIP suites,* my brain faintly processed, but the fog of the drinks made it hard to care. My knees felt weak, and a sudden wave of exhaustion crashed over me, the long day of standing at the restaurant finally catching up all at once. I just needed to sit down for a single minute.

I reached out, resting my hand against the brass handle of the nearest door to steady myself. To my surprise, the latch clicked softly, and the heavy wood swung inward without a sound.

The room inside was expansive, cast in deep, moody shadows. A single, low lamp in the corner illuminated a massive, minimalist leather sectional and a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the glittering skyline of the affluent city. It was empty. Or at least, I thought it was.

"Finally," I whispered to myself, my slurred voice echoing softly in the quiet space.