
The Night the Don Died in My Arms
Chapter 4
Rosalie was my mother's student, and the most beautiful girl in school. Almost every boy was in love with her.
Which made her a target.
The girls locked her in the bathroom, forced her to drink from the toilet, took turns slapping her, and eventually brought in thugs from another school to assault her.
My mother heard the commotion and went to check. But by the time she arrived, the bullies had already fled.
All that was left was Rosalie, stripped bare, and a man pulling up his pants.
My mother turned away and muttered under her breath: "Absolutely shameless."
She didn't know that one sentence sealed the verdict.
After that, no matter how Rosalie tried to explain, no one believed her. Rumors spread that she'd been selling herself.
With nowhere left to turn, Rosalie went to my mother — begged her to set the record straight.
But the bullies had already poisoned everyone's minds. My mother let out a long sigh:
"Rosalie, beauty is a gift. It's a shame you misused it. You'll have to live with the consequences."
She gave Rosalie some money, told her to "straighten up." That was the final straw.
Not long after, Rosalie jumped.
And from that day on, Damien — who had never once looked my way — suddenly came to me.
At the school dance, he walked past every other girl to offer me his hand. On Christmas, the entire campus erupted in fireworks just for me.
On my eighteenth birthday, he coaxed me into bed.
I thought love had finally found me. Then a stack of nude photos tore that fantasy apart.
I remember going to confront him. He was standing there, savoring the sight of classmates laughing over my photos.
He glanced at me — eyes red, face blank — and sneered:
"I wonder what your mother will look like when she sees these..."
"Think she'll point at the girl in the pictures and say 'Absolutely shameless'?"
That day, my mother fainted in her office. I begged him, sobbing, to make it stop.
He chuckled, then pointed out the seventeenth-floor window:
"Jump from here, and I'll end it."
All of it flashed through my mind.
I turned to Damien, swallowing the blood rising in my throat:
"Damien, I'll sleep with anyone. But you — never again."
A murderous fury ignited behind his eyes.
Then his phone rang.
Serena Langford.
Damien's voice went cold as ice: "Then get out."
I didn't hesitate. I walked back into the rain.
Damien watched me for a long moment, then floored the accelerator and disappeared, his tires spraying filthy water across my clothes.
Watching the taillights fade, I thought the night had never felt this cold.
I dragged myself to the bank. When I inserted Serena's card, I almost laughed.
Everything I'd endured — every shred of dignity I'd surrendered — amounted to pocket change for someone like her.
I withdrew the money, then threw my dealer's uniform in the trash.
But the next day, Damien returned to the casino. Marco immediately told him I'd quit.
"It was just a game. Why the drama? Clearly life hasn't knocked the fight out of her yet."
Damien frowned. "Knocked the fight out?"
"Oh yeah." Marco snorted. "Word is her mother jumped off a building a couple years back. And the kid's got some serious heart condition — probably won't last much longer either."
"Shame, really. I was planning to use the kid as leverage, keep her servicing VIPs. What a waste."
Damien went still for a very long time.
Then, finally: "A kid?"
"Yeah. If I'm remembering right, he's about to turn seven."