The CEO's Fallen Angel

My name is Elena Mussolini. When I met Michael Shane, I was standing at the edge of a life abyss. The rent was three months overdue, and the landlord had already changed the door lock. The biting wind drove snowflakes against my face as I curled up under the bridge, too drained even to cry. Michael Shane showed up right then, wearing a faded jacket and clutching a crumpled fifty-dollar bill. "Let's buy something to eat first." His voice was low, husky. I looked up at him. His eyes still held a trace of youthful innocence, but beneath it lay a steadfast determination. I later learned that his startup had failed—his partner had vanished with all the money, leaving him drowning in debt. We were like two lost souls from the same sky, crammed into a shabby little room on the city outskirts, paying three hundred a month in rent. He spent his days scouring markets for opportunities and set up a stall at the night market in the evenings, while I washed dishes in a restaurant, barely getting by. Life felt like a stagnant pool until Michael Shane said he had a project—but he just needed some startup capital. "How much?" I asked him. "At least a hundred thousand." His voice was full of helplessness. "I've asked every relative and friend—no one is willing to help me." A hundred thousand was an astronomical amount for us back then. I looked at his increasingly haggard face, and a wild idea took root in my mind. That night, I went to the city's most upscale club, the Zenith Club. Abigail looked me up and down, her eyes sharp with scrutiny. "New here? Or a student?" I bit my lip and shook my head. "I'm looking for the richest client." Abigail smiled and patted my shoulder. "Got it. Follow me." That man was Mr. Zamora—big-bellied, with cloudy eyes. He offered ten thousand, wanting me to keep him company for the night. I didn't hesitate and nodded. The moment I stepped into the room, I closed my eyes and swallowed all the humiliation inside me. I told myself this was for Michael Shane, for our future. Early the next morning, clutching the heavy bank card, I returned to the rundown little room. When Michael saw the money, his eyes lit up. "Elena, where did you get so much money?" "I... I borrowed it from a distant relative." I didn't dare meet his eyes, my voice trembling slightly. He didn't doubt me and held me as he cried, "Elena, once I succeed, I'll repay you properly." I smiled and nodded, but inside, it felt like I was being pricked by needles. With the seed money, Michael Shane's project gradually started to pick up. But to truly hold my ground, I still needed connections and resources. I stayed on at the Zenith Club and became one of the hostesses there. I learned to drink, to play the game, and to greet those sleazy men with the sweetest smile. Every time I drank myself to the point of stomach bleeding, I still forced myself to go home and act like nothing was wrong in front of Michael. "Elena, you seem to have lost weight lately." Michael touched my face, his eyes full of concern. "Maybe it's just that I'm too tired." I smiled, avoiding his gaze. "You're busy with your project, so don't worry about me." To help Michael Shane land a partnership, I was willing to set aside all my dignity. During those days, I was like a soulless puppet—spending my days with different men, and at night, returning home to force a smile while taking care of Michael Shane. At last, Michael Shane's company showed signs of progress, and he received an invitation for advanced studies from a top overseas university. "Elena, I'm going abroad for two years." He hugged me excitedly. "When I come back, we'll get married, and I'll give you the best life." I looked into the light in his eyes and nodded, "Okay, I'll wait for you." The day he left, I went to the airport to see him off. He gave me a bank card and said, "There's some money here. Take good care of yourself." I didn't take it. Instead, I handed him a card: "I have money here. You need to eat well and dress well abroad. Don't worry about me." That card held all my savings from the past year, plus the tips I earned from flattering those men. After he left, I worked even harder to earn money. Abigail from the Zenith Club saw my determination and gave me the best opportunities. I became the top escort there, spending every night moving between different men's rooms. They spent money like water, but I did it only to earn more, to send to Michael Shane. Every time I received his emails saying he was doing well abroad and making progress with his project, I felt like everything was worth it. Seven years, a full seven years. I went from a naive girl to the most famous top escort at the Zenith Club, having endured the world's coldness and seen through the cruelty of society. And Michael Shane finally succeeded, returning home covered in glory. I thought our hard times were finally over, but I didn't know it was just the start of another nightmare.