My Kidney for His Hatred

How was I supposed to come up with fifty grand in such a short time?

Just as I was drowning in frustration, my friend, Susie Williams, called.

She knew I needed money and told me about a job selling liquor at a high-end club.

I skipped dinner and rushed straight to the address she sent me.

Only when I arrived did I realize—it was Rose Club, the most exclusive establishment in the city.

A place where the rich and powerful gathered.

The club sold luxury wines, some costing hundred grand per bottle. A single successful sale could earn me tens of thousands in commission. If the customers were generous, the service tips alone could be substantial.

If things went well, I’d only need to sell a few bottles to clear my debt to James.

I took a deep breath, composed myself, and stepped inside.

The manager handed me a few bottles of premium liquor and sent me to Room 5 to make a sale.

I knocked, pushed the door open—and froze.

James Larson.

He sat at the head of the table, the undeniable center of attention, surrounded by men of his status—wealthy elites, powerful figures.

Unlike the others, whose seats were occupied by glamorous escorts, he had Lucy by his side.

The moment I took in the scene, my first instinct was to turn and leave.

But Lucy spotted me first.

She strode over in her designer heels, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me inside.

“Miss Simmons, you’re here to sell liquor, aren’t you?”

I stammered, trying to pull away. “No, I— I walked into the wrong room.”

James’ cold, scrutinizing gaze swept over me.

“Wrong room?” His voice was laced with mockery. “You’re in a club uniform—how could you be mistaken?”

He leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable. “If you’re not here to sell liquor… then what? Selling yourself?”

Laughter erupted around the room.

Heat burned up my face.

I looked down, suddenly hyper-aware of my uniform—the plunging neckline, the way my skin peeked through the fabric.

I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to cover myself.

A lady eyed me, her tone dripping with mockery.

“First day on the job? If you wanna make it in this line of work, you better loosen up.”

“No one here likes a prude.”

As soon as she finished speaking, an older man suddenly walked over.

He ran a finger down my cheek, his tone sleazy.

“I like your type. You look… fresh.”

“How much for a night?”

Disgust crawled up my skin. I stepped back, dodging his touch.

“Show some respect, old man.”

His face darkened, and before I could react, a slap cracked across my cheek.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“You walk in here dressed like that and act all high and mighty?”

“And what did you just call me? Old man? You got a death wish?”

The force of the hit knocked me off balance. I stumbled and fell—right at James’ feet.

A sharp pain shot through my side, right where my kidney used to be.

I tasted blood before I saw it—a warm, metallic rush spilling from my mouth.

The man hesitated for a second. “What? You faking it? Trying to scam me?”

I gripped the edge of the couch and tried to pull myself up, waving him off.

But my body was too weak. My vision blurred, and the next thing I knew—I had collapsed into James’ lap.

Laughter rang out around the room.

“Oh, so that’s it.” The man sneered. “You’re holding out for Mr. Larson.”

“But come on, girl, take a look in the mirror. He’s rich, handsome, one of the biggest names in the city. You really think he’d pick you?”

James’ brows knitted together, his expression one of pure disgust.

“Get off me, Amelia Simmons.”

I forced myself upright, wobbling as I put space between us.

“Sorry, Mr. Larson,” I murmured. “I didn’t mean to.”

Lucy came over to steady me, but the look in her eyes was anything but kind.

“Oh, I believe you,” she cooed sweetly.

“You’re just sick. Desperate.”

“Why don’t we help her out?” She turned to James, resting a hand on his arm.

“How about we buy a bottle from her?”

“Wouldn’t even cost more than a pair of underwear you bought me.”

As she spoke, her fingers dug into my wrist—tightening like a vice.