Chapter 6 Who Is Cr?

Sophia The VIP suite was eerily silent, the kind of silence that made the weight of everything settle deep inside my chest. My body still ached, and my heart felt heavier than before. No matter how hard I tried to push the memory of what I had overheard earlier from my mind, it clung to me like a shadow, refusing to fade. Sadie and Stella had sold me. They had planned for me to be handed over to seven men, drugged and defenseless, all so they could rid themselves of me once and for all. I curled my arms around myself, the reality of it all sinking in. If I hadn’t ended up in this suite last night, if I hadn’t been with him, my fate would have been different—horrifyingly different. I took a shaky breath, my gaze falling onto the gift bag still sitting untouched on the bed. I had been too exhausted to open it earlier, too overwhelmed by everything, but now, as I sat there in silence, I couldn’t ignore it any longer. My fingers hesitated before finally reaching for the bag, the smooth, luxurious texture cool against my fingertips. Who was he? The man who had been with me last night, the stranger who had taken my body, claimed me and left before I could even see him in the daylight. I didn’t know his name. I didn’t know anything about him. Yet he had left this for me. I took a deep breath and pulled the bag open, carefully taking out the contents. A soft gasp slipped past my lips as I held up the dress inside. It was a fucking Chanel dress. I ran my fingers over the fabric, feeling the unmistakable softness of the expensive material, the kind of luxury that I had never been close to in my entire life. It was exquisite, delicate yet bold, something that belonged to a woman of status, of power. Why would he buy me this? I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. This wasn’t just any dress—it had been chosen specifically for me, a gift that spoke of care, precision, and intention. But why? Did he feel guilty? Did he think I would need something beautiful to make up for what had happened last night? Or was this something else entirely? A part of me longed to know the answer, to understand what kind of man he was. Did he regret it? Did he think about me, even for a second, after he left? The thought made my chest tighten, and I forced myself to push it away. It didn’t matter. I was never going to see him again. I let out a sigh as I set the dress aside and stood, my body still protesting with soreness as I moved. I had spent the entire day trying to avoid thinking about last night, about what had happened and how it had changed me. But this dress…This gift…It was a reminder that I wasn’t the same person anymore. I left the hotel later that evening, slipping back into the reality I had tried so hard to avoid. My body still ached, my legs sore with every step I took, but I forced myself to move forward. The dress remained carefully folded in the gift bag, the initials on the small note tucked inside my pocket—a silent reminder of the stranger who had taken me that night. C.R. I guess those were his initials or something. That was all he had left me with. I had read the note over and over again, the elegant handwriting taunting me with its mystery. I will come back. C.R. But the problem was—I didn’t even remember his face. I had been too lost in my own need, too consumed by the drug coursing through my veins, too blinded by the pleasure and desperation of the moment, and now, he was gone. When I arrived home, I pushed through the front door, keeping my head low as I walked past the grand living room, where Sadie was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone like nothing had happened. Stella sat beside her, sipping her usual evening tea, both of them completely unbothered. That made my stomach turn. I didn’t stop to look at them one more time; I didn’t speak. I walked straight to my room, shutting the door behind me without even looking at them. For the first time in years, I felt no need to force a conversation, no need to try and be accepted by them. They had crossed a line that could never be undone, and now, all that remained between us was silence. Sadie knocked on my door later that night, her voice overly sweet, too fake. “Sophia, are you ignoring us?” I didn’t respond. She knocked again, and when I didn’t answer, I heard her scoff and walk away. That was good because I was done pretending. Even though I told myself to forget about him, I still found myself drawn back to the Ricci Grand Hotel the next day, my heart racing with every step I took toward the lobby. I wasn’t even sure why I was there. One thing is, C.R. left and he's probably not coming back. I knew that, but yet, my eyes searched. I walked past the reception, stealing glances at the high-profile guests passing by, trying to see if any of them looked remotely familiar. Would I even recognize him if I saw him again? Probably not. I wasn’t even sure what I was hoping for. Maybe he had come back. Maybe that he had checked on me, that he had asked if I was okay. But there was nothing. The front desk had no record of a man under the initials C.R., and no one could recall a guest matching the vague descriptions I tried to piece together from my fragmented memories. I even lingered near the VIP suite, staring at the door like it held the answers I was looking for. But he was gone. I had given myself false hope that he would keep his word, that he would come back for me. Days passed, and still, there was no sign of him. I kept returning to the hotel between my shifts, asking questions, watching the guests, searching for something—someone—that didn’t want to be found. And every single time, I left the hotel disappointed. The only clue I had was the initials C.R., scrawled in ink on the small note he had left behind. But who was C.R.? And why the fuck did I care so much?