She threaded her way between the loud, carefree customers, heading toward the Vault.
The Vault was Nocturne's most prestigious VIP suite. A single bottle of liquor consumed there could cost more than what Madelynn earned in an entire year. If she accidentally broke one, there was no way she could afford to repay it.
She opened the door and immediately stopped. Her feet seemed to lock in place.
Her heart seemed to stop beating.
At the center of the main sofa sat a man surrounded by a group of people eagerly trying to please him. Six years had passed, but Madelynn would have recognized that profile anywhere.
Kristopher Harrison.
Six years.
The Kristopher she remembered was the brilliant scholarship student with a cold personality, strikingly handsome features, and a wardrobe of worn, faded shirts. Sitting before her now was a commanding man who exuded power, impeccably dressed in a perfectly made dark-gray suit.
Madelynn's immediate reaction was to leave. Kristopher was the one she least wanted to encounter, and she had no place standing before him now.
"Stop! Raise your head."
Kristopher's low, unnervingly calm voice stopped her in her tracks, carrying an authority she couldn't bring herself to resist.
Her legs suddenly became useless. She couldn't take another step.
Without warning, her mind returned to a night six years earlier-the graduation celebration.
She could still see the dazzling ballroom. She could still remember herself standing before everyone and throwing a glass of red wine directly into Kristopher's face. "It was only a game, Kristopher. I never loved you."
At the time, he had been a struggling business student, surviving on a full scholarship while juggling three part-time jobs just to get by.
Madelynn, meanwhile, had been the spoiled, privileged heiress of the Collins family. Everyone had watched her chase and cast him aside.
Now, six years later, things were different.
Fear and shame surged through Madelynn at the same time.
"Kristopher, is something wrong?" the elegantly dressed woman sitting beside Kristopher asked. Her eyes drifted toward Madelynn with curiosity. "Do you know her?"
Kristopher turned toward Madelynn slowly, his eyes passing over her without the slightest trace of emotion, as though she were nothing more than an insignificant object in the room.
A small, mocking laugh came from him, his voice carrying disdain.
"Why would I know a woman like her?"
The woman beside him looked at the waitress uniform Madelynn wore. Her expression immediately turned dismissive. "Of course. I was reading too much into it. There's no way you would know a waitress."
Madelynn pressed her teeth into her lower lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood spread across her tongue. She finally lowered her eyes, turned around, and walked out. Her legs shook beneath her, threatening to collapse with every step.
She had never imagined that she would cross paths with Kristopher again after six years.
Now, all she wanted was to make sure it never happened again.
At last, after what seemed like an endless shift, Madelynn was finally free to leave. She headed down a dark, grimy street toward the run-down apartment where she lived.
Madelynn slipped the key into the lock and twisted it open.
It had barely swung open before the foul combination of old liquor and cheap cigarette smoke hit her.
She hadn't even stepped through the doorway when a large, calloused hand lunged out, seized her by the hair, and violently dragged her inside.
The door slammed shut behind her.
"Where is it? Where's the money you earned today?" Her husband, Nicholas Smith, stood over her in the dim light, his drunken face twisted with anger as his bloodshot eyes bored into her.
Pain shot through Madelynn's scalp, and tears immediately filled her eyes.
She raised both hands to protect her head and said in a trembling voice, "Tonight... it was slow. I barely made anything from tips. This is everything I have."
With trembling hands, she hurriedly searched her pocket and pulled out a handful of crumpled bills and loose change.
Nicholas ripped the cash from her hands and counted it, his expression hardening with anger. "You expect me to believe this is everything you made? Are you hiding money from me again? Hmm?"
Before she could answer, his hand struck her across the face.
Madelynn cried out and dropped to the floor, instinctively curling herself into a tight ball. She covered her head and tried to protect herself.
His fists and feet struck her arms, back, and legs again and again. Every impact sent another wave of pain through her body. She clenched her teeth, deciding she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her beg.
When Nicholas reached for the last bundle of cash on the nightstand, Madelynn suddenly lunged forward and grabbed onto his pant leg.
"That's for Emily's medical treatment," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Please, you can't take that money..."
The moment she mentioned her daughter, Emily Collins, Nicholas's expression became vicious, and he kicked Madelynn away from him. "Don't ever mention that little bastard to me! Whether she lives or dies has nothing to do with me!"