Confessions of an Escort：The Dark Hobbies of the Wealthy - Chapter 20: Chapter 20
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Alexander Valdemar's family had been crushed under the weight of public outrage—their influence shattered, their protection gone.
As the architect of it all, he was locked away for five years. By the time I walked free, he still had years left to serve.
I went back to the apartment he'd once given me.
Every trace of the luxury that should have been mine had vanished.
Devastated, I sank to the floor and sobbed—only the third time I'd cried since coming to this city.
Everything was gone.
In the end, I rented the same cramped little apartment I'd lived in before.
The same metal-framed bed stood in its usual spot, my suitcase resting beside it like an old, unwanted companion.
My looks landed me a job as a salesgirl at a mall counter.
After everything I'd endured with men, reading their intentions came as easily as breathing.
The commissions kept me fed and clothed, but now, a whole year's earnings wouldn't match what I once made in a single day.
Still, no one called me a bitch anymore. No one ground my face into the floor with their shoe, demanding I lick it clean...
Despite everything, I told myself I could start over.
On my twenty-third birthday, I bought a tiny cake—just big enough to fit in my palm—and lit a single candle.
As the architect of it all, he was locked away for five years. By the time I walked free, he still had years left to serve.
I went back to the apartment he'd once given me.
Every trace of the luxury that should have been mine had vanished.
Devastated, I sank to the floor and sobbed—only the third time I'd cried since coming to this city.
Everything was gone.
In the end, I rented the same cramped little apartment I'd lived in before.
The same metal-framed bed stood in its usual spot, my suitcase resting beside it like an old, unwanted companion.
My looks landed me a job as a salesgirl at a mall counter.
After everything I'd endured with men, reading their intentions came as easily as breathing.
The commissions kept me fed and clothed, but now, a whole year's earnings wouldn't match what I once made in a single day.
Still, no one called me a bitch anymore. No one ground my face into the floor with their shoe, demanding I lick it clean...
Despite everything, I told myself I could start over.
On my twenty-third birthday, I bought a tiny cake—just big enough to fit in my palm—and lit a single candle.
End of Confessions of an Escort：The Dark Hobbies of the Wealthy Chapter 20. View all chapters or return to Confessions of an Escort：The Dark Hobbies of the Wealthy book page.