The last drop drained from me. My vision went black. I hit the floor hard.
When I came to, I bolted upright and grabbed my phone, checking my balance with shaking hands.
The hundred thousand Denys Simmons had promised? Not a single cent had arrived.
I didn't wait for the dizziness to pass. Still clutching my sleeve where they'd drawn blood—the fabric wrinkled and damp—I stormed into Simmons Group headquarters.
The receptionist tried to stop me. I shoved past the glass doors and burst into the top-floor office.
Denys Simmons lounged on the leather sofa, sipping coffee. He looked at me the way someone looks at trash blown in from the street.
"Where's the money?" My voice shook. My nails bit into my palms.
He set down his cup with deliberate slowness, a mocking curve forming on his lips. "What money?"
When I just stared at him, he let out a derisive laugh. "The daughter of a call girl thinks she deserves a hundred thousand?"
Call girl.
The words seared into me like a branding iron.
Five years ago, on a night he'd clearly forgotten, I'd been forced to work as a hostess to pay for my foster mother's medical bills. That night, I stumbled upon him drugged by his cousin Wayne Simmons, barely conscious. I'd only meant to help him back to his room—but he'd pulled me in, and I couldn't break free.
When I discovered I was pregnant, I knew the gulf between us was too vast to bridge. I never told him. I raised Denise alone for four years.
And now he had the audacity to humiliate me like this.
Rage obliterated reason. My hand moved before I could think.
The slap echoed through the office. Silence crashed down like a hammer.
Denys Simmons's face flushed a mottled purple. He grabbed my wrist with the grip of a man unhinged. "You dare hit me?"
I wrenched free and met his glare, biting out each word. "It seems Mr. Simmons has forgotten that night five years ago at the club."
He went rigid. His pupils contracted sharply, as if something had struck him square in the chest.
"How do you know what happened five years ago?"
I watched the shock ripple across his face, and a flicker of dark satisfaction curled through me. Without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving only ice in my wake.
"You don't deserve to know."
The moment I stepped out of the Simmons Group building, the cold wind hit me like a slap. Only then did I notice the angry red marks circling my wrist where he'd gripped me.