Billionaires Abandoned Love Slave

Ophelia's POV

"Lia, can you bring two bottles of beer to table 17? It seems Sir Arnold wants to have a little chat with you," Ava Castillo, my best friend, and a co-bottle girl at the strip club said to me as she stepped into the dressing room.

I sighed in frustration on hearing the name of the club's most valued patron and one of the numerous old men who had proposed to be my sugar daddy from the first day I started working at the “Sex in a bottle” strip club.

"Okay, I'll go now," I feigned a smile at her, to which she nodded as she walked up to me and stood at my back with a calm mien.

I looked into the mirror and mentally cringed as I took in my sultry outfit which consisted of a tiny black leather short, with half of my ass cheeks exposed, and a leather bra, which had a luscious amount of my soft boobs exposed.

I slowly ran my fingers down the leather strap which was joined from my shorts to my boots and sighed again. The make-up I had on my face made me look like a whore and honestly, I felt like one even though I was merely a bottle girl at the club.

Right from when I was five years old, I had always wanted to be a chef at a Michelin-star restaurant but the universe had other plans for me as my mum died barely a month after I clocked ten, and that sudden grievous occurrence took both my dad and me off guard and our peaceful and harmonious lives went spiraling downward as dad started indulging in bad vices and decisions.

He became a chronic chain smoker and an alcohol addict. Not to mention how he used half of his settlement fee which was paid to him after he was laid off from work to gamble and you bet me, he lost and about half a million dollars went down the drain just like that.

But he still managed to save a reasonable amount of money which he would use to send me to culinary school and that was the only reason I still felt happy with him.

I thought I would attend culinary school, graduate at the top of my class, talk my dad into getting a loan for me with his connections and then open a five-star restaurant but my sixteen years old dream never came through.

A day before I was supposed to take the entrance examination into culinary school, my dad suddenly had a life-threatening seizure and was rushed to the hospital. On getting there, he was resuscitated and we were given the heart-shattering news of his diagnosis.

My dad had stage three and stage four of both lung and liver cancers respectively.

He finally got the reward of smoking and drinking alcohol like a well.

There and then, I knew my dream to be a chef was as good as dead. I had to devote my time to taking care of my ailing Dad. It wasn't as if he had any other family apart from me anyway, and just like that, I, Ophelia Alvarez gave up my passion to be a chef and got myself registered in a cheap-ass university, training to be a teacher.

"Lia, Ophelia!" Ava's voice drifted into my ears in form of a high-pitched tone and jolted me out of my reverie.

"Yes, what's wrong?" I tilted my head sideways with confusion washing over my face to ask her.

In response, she scoffed, "What were you thinking so deeply about?"

"Nothing much, I was just mulling over how blissful my life is and how proud my mum must be watching me walk half-naked, and serving drinks to old perverts in a strip club. She must be so elated and proud to have a whore as a daughter," I muttered, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Ophelia, we both know that you are everything but a whore. I mean, you and I both, aren't doing this just because we want to. We are only doing this because we have to and we don't have connections and the qualifications to get a respectable job elsewhere. Your mum would understand everything. Stop beating yourself too much over this. Everything will be fine, Lia. You are supposed to be the optimistic and mature friend between the both of us, why are you suddenly so dejected?" Ava turned me to face her as she interlaced our hands together.

I smiled at her and shook my head. "I don't know either. I just feel very miserable today. I checked my savings balance and realized that I've barely saved one-third of the required amount for Dad's surgery which is in a month. What am I supposed to do when the time comes? Will Dad also die and leave me alone? Am I a good daughter? I can't even do anything for my dad," I full-on started crying as I said the last word, I didn't care that I had spent almost two hours on my makeup. I just wanted to let it all out.

My frustration and distress.