Davina's POV
Sleep eluded me completely that night. I kept flipping from side to side, my mind replaying that bizarre encounter with Irvin Jenkin on an endless loop. His penetrating stare, that insufferable arrogance dripping from every word, the sheer audacity of his proposition—5,000 per date? The whole thing felt like some twisted prank designed to make me feel small.
Yet the numbers kept haunting me, creeping back into my thoughts despite my best efforts to push them away. Five thousand dollars. Three dates meant fifteen thousand total. That amount dwarfed anything I could scrape together working at Velvet Crown for years.
Fifteen grand could cover so much—rent, groceries, bills. It might be my ticket out of this suffocating town.
I bolted upright in bed, letting out a frustrated groan while raking my fingers through my tangled hair. Stop it. I couldn't let myself go down this path.
Whatever twisted game Irvin Jenkin was orchestrating, I refused to be a player. Sure, that money might solve my immediate problems, but accepting anything from a Jenkin would mean dancing to their tune—and I wasn't about to become their puppet.
Morning arrived with me still bone-tired but resolute in my choice. I dragged myself from my cramped bedroom toward the kitchen, desperately needing caffeine to function. The moment I stepped inside, my sisters' hushed conversation reached my ears.
"There's no way it's real," Calista was saying, skepticism coating every syllable.
"It could be," Dotty fired back, tossing her hair dramatically. "Everyone in town's talking about it."
"What's happening?" I mumbled sleepily, shuffling toward the cabinet for a glass. "Where's Mom?"
"Gone. Who knows when she'll drag herself back here," Dotty replied without bothering to look my way.
"You're living in fantasy land if you think they actually split up," Calista said with a laugh. "Caroline would eat broken glass before dumping Jenkin."
My grip tightened around the glass until my knuckles went white.
"Maybe he dumped her," Dotty suggested, a cunning smile playing on her lips.
Calista let out a derisive snort. "Oh please, Dotty, don't tell me you're still clinging to that pathetic dream of landing him. It's mortifying."
I turned slowly, dread pooling in my stomach as their conversation continued.
"I'm not pathetic!" Dotty snapped. "At least I took my shot. Unlike you, throwing yourself at every wealthy guy who barely glances your way."
"'Took your shot' is putting it mildly," Calista cackled. "Strutting around the Jenkin estate buck naked three days into your job? That was beyond desperate."
Dotty's cheeks flamed red as she opened her mouth to argue, but Calista pressed on relentlessly.
"Accept reality, Dotty. We're Hughes. The Jenkins see us as less than human. They despise everything about our family."
"Whatever," Dotty huffed, folding her arms defensively.
I forced my legs to move, walking to the sink with shaking hands while praying neither sister would notice my trembling.
Back in my room, I snatched my phone from the nightstand and pulled up the Meridian Morning News. The headline hit me like a slap:
**Irvin Jenkin and Caroline Matthew Call It Quits.**
My pulse hammered as I devoured the article. Caroline had confirmed their split in an interview, claiming they needed a "break" for personal growth. But the reporter's tone suggested there was more drama lurking beneath the surface.
I set the phone down and pressed my back against the wall, my thoughts spinning wildly. Was this the reason behind his approach? Now that he was free, did he need someone to fill the void? Some pawn in whatever sick game he was playing?
I shook my head firmly.
I wouldn't let myself get dragged into this chaos.
My phone buzzed in my palm, making my stomach plummet. I hesitated before checking the screen.
The message came from an unknown number.
*Good morning, Hughes. Don't bother asking how I got your number. My offer still stands: three dates, 5,000 for each one. You have three days to decide.*
I stared at the text, my heart hammering against my ribs. My fingers shook as I read his words again.
I could practically hear that cold, superior tone bleeding through the message—the voice of someone accustomed to getting exactly what he wanted.
For a split second, I considered deleting it and pretending it never existed. Instead, I sank onto my bed's edge, clutching the phone like a lifeline.
Fifteen thousand dollars.
My mind raced through endless possibilities. I could finally escape Meridian, build something new somewhere else.
But then Irvin Jenkin's smug expression flashed through my memory, and rage surged through my veins.
Three days.