Chapter 8: She’s Gone
Time seemed to blur. She didn’t know when she stopped trembling. She didn’t know when she stopped fighting the thought of what she was doing.
Although it was her first, it didn’t seem like what she’d imagined it would be like with Ethan.
He wasn’t rough or desperate to take her. The sex didn’t even feel like it was being forced or that it was a business sex. This guy—Jake— was careful, patient, nothing like the harsh, business-like moment she had prepared herself for.
Every moan that escaped her lips made her hate herself more because it made her feel like she wasn’t doing any of this to save her mother or the house.
With how much time she’d wasted thinking about this reckless thought, she couldn’t believe she was finding it bearable—worse, that a part of her was almost—not almost but was enjoying it.
She had expected pain. She had braced herself for regret. But she hadn’t expected this: the truth that deep down, a hidden part of her wanted to respond, even if she didn’t understand why.
And that truth made her feel sick inside.
She only knew that instead of feeling broken, she felt alive, as though the ache in her chest had been replaced with something dangerously close to longing.
Later, lying against the pillows, Bella’s mind raced with confusion. She had come here to sell herself. Yet instead of revulsion, she found herself replaying his touch, the way his voice had softened when he spoke to her, the intensity in his eyes as if he were searching for something deeper in her.
Jake, meanwhile, lay beside her, watching her quietly. He had expected just another transaction. But what he had found was a mystery—a woman torn apart by grief and desperation, who didn’t belong in this world she had stumbled into.
And now, he couldn’t stop wondering: Why had she done this?
Although he’d wanted to stop when he realized it was her first time, but his attraction to her had stopped him. Now, he not only felt curious about her life, he wanted her. All of her.
The first pale light of dawn filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the room in shades of muted gold. Bella stirred beneath the soft sheets, her body aching in ways she hadn’t known it could, though it wasn’t pain she felt.
She sat up slowly, pulling the covers around her chest, her gaze falling on Jake. He was still asleep, one arm draped loosely across the pillow where she had been lying minutes before. Even now, his face looked calm, composed—yet softer than she had seen it the night before.
Bella’s throat tightened.
She had expected to feel sick. Dirty. As though she had betrayed herself. Yet instead, there was a strange sense of stillness inside her, a fragile quiet that unnerved her more than disgust would have. She couldn’t decide if it was relief, or something more dangerous.
Stop it, she scolded herself, dragging her gaze away. This wasn’t who she was. This wasn’t who she wanted to be. But her mother’s life had depended on her doing something, anything, to find the money. And she had done it.
He’d offered to give her money for free but she didn’t want to owe anyone. Now, she’d paid. She had earned the money. It was time to leave.
She rose from the bed and slipped into her dress again, her fingers fumbling at the zipper. The black dress felt heavier now than it had last night. She caught her reflection in the mirror across the room and almost didn’t recognize herself—the smudged makeup, the tired eyes, the woman who had crossed a line she could never uncross.
And yet, despite it all, she whispered under her breath, I did it for her. For Mom. But a part of her whispered, "Are you sure? If so, why did you enjoy it?"
She shook her head, shoving every thought out of her mind. Whether or not she enjoyed it, what mattered was that she had the money now and she could make everything right again.
As she picked up her bag to leave, Jake stirred. His voice was low, husky from sleep. "You’re leaving already?"
Bella hesitated, her hand tightening on the strap of her bag. "I have what I came for."
He pushed himself up slightly, watching her. His expression wasn’t mocking, nor dismissive. If anything, there was curiosity in his eyes again, that same unreadable depth that had unsettled her the night before.
"You’re different," he said softly, almost to himself. "And I don’t mean just tonight."
Bella froze, not daring to respond. Instead, she turned toward the door, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.
Just as she reached for the handle, her phone buzzed.
Her heart leapt when she saw Rachel’s name flashing on the screen. Relief washed over her. She would tell her. She would finally tell Rachel that she had the money—that their mother would get her surgery, that everything would be alright.
With trembling hands, Bella answered, glad she wouldn’t be disappointing Rachel this time. "Rachel? Is everything okay? Listen, I have the money now. I’m coming right now. Everything’s going to be fine—"
"Bella."
Her sister’s voice cracked, broken by sobs.
Bella’s smile faltered, her brows creasing in a frown. "Rachel? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? I have the money now. You don’t have to cry."
On the other end, Rachel’s breath hitched, a sound filled with anguish. "We won’t be needing the money anymore, Bella. She’s gone. Mom’s gone."
Bella’s chest constricted. "What do you mean she’s gone?"
"The doctors tried... they tried, but her brain... her heart stopped—" Rachel’s words dissolved into tears. "She didn’t make it. She couldn’t keep fighting, Bella. Mom’s gone," Rachel said in between sobs.
The world tilted. Bella stumbled back a step, her phone nearly slipping from her grasp. "No..." Her voice came out as a whisper, sharp and breathless. "No, Rachel. Don’t say that. She can’t be—she can’t."
"She’s gone," Rachel repeated, choking on the words.