Who Are You?

After a brief moment, Damien Sterling decisively rolled out of bed, as if the girl he had just held in his arms was now a stranger to him. 

The warmth in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by an icy detachment. 

Without hesitation, he casually wrote a check for a hundred thousand dollars and left it beside the girl's pillow.

Unexpectedly, she awoke at that moment, her eyes immediately locking with his cold ones. 

"Ah!" Emma Hart gasped, just waking up. 

She trembled as she hastily sat up in bed, clutching the sheets to cover her nakedness. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Who am I? Don't you know?" Damien Sterling replied with a cold snort. He had no desire to engage in further conversation with her. Putting on his clothes, he prepared to leave.

"Wait, don't go! Explain to me what's going on!" The girl's voice was frantic and panicked from behind him.

Damien Sterling only glanced back coldly, his eyes filled with scornful amusement. 

His gaze was a clear display of his disdain for such a ploy, too familiar to him. Even if it was her first time, it didn't change the fact that she was a gold-digger, willing to sell her body for money. 

As this thought crossed his mind, his thin lips curled into a smirk, stepping closer to the bed.

"I thought in this transaction, no explanations were owed. You chose this profession; do I need to remind you of its rules?" 

Without another word, he turned and left.

Watching his disappearing figure, Emma Hart sat on the bed like a lifeless doll, unable to hide her sorrow and distress. 

What exactly happened last night? She pounded her head, feeling as if her world had crumbled. 

She pinched herself hard, hoping to wake up from this nightmare. But the disarray on the bed and the weakness in her body were relentless reminders of what had just transpired.

"This can't be happening!" she thought, tears silently streaming down her cheeks. Looking around the luxurious presidential suite and the white check lying beside the pillow, she finally collapsed to the floor in despair.

"No, I can't let my friends or Ethan Turner find out what happened yesterday." In a daze, Emma Hart leaped from the bed and frantically tore the check into pieces. 

Without a moment to gather herself, she grabbed her clothes in a panic and stumbled into the bathroom...

But just as she had hastily showered and was about to dress, she heard a knock at the door. 

Hastily wrapping herself up, she rushed out of the bathroom. 

The door, which had just been closed by the man, was suddenly flung open from the outside...

"Oh my God, Emma, how on earth are you here?" Natalie Black stood outside the door, her hand clamped over her mouth in shock, eyes wide with terror, her voice sharp and piercing. 

Emma Hart stared back, utterly dumbfounded. She couldn't make heads or tails of it. Just last night, it had been Natalie Black who had arranged this room for her, and it was she who had plied her with drinks.

How could she have possibly ended up in the wrong room?

And now here was Natalie, looking even more panicked and disheveled than Emma felt herself. What on earth was going on?

Emma's mind, finally kicking into gear, began piecing things together.

She was just on the verge of clearing the fog in her mind, ready to confront Natalie Black for answers, when her gaze inadvertently fell behind Natalie, catching something that made her heart skip a beat.