Sold to a mafia billionaire

hour. My shoes have holes in them. My uniform is old and faded. But I wash it every night because it is the only one I have. I live with my stepmother. My real mother died when I was eight. Si

the video would get a million views. That is when I heard it. SCREEECH! A car braking so hard outside that everyone jumped. A black Bentley. Shining, expensive, worth more than this whole block. It stopped right in front of the diner window. The driver door opened. And he stepped out. Tall. Over six feet. Broad shoulders. Perfect black suit that looked like it was made for him. Expensive watch. But his eyes... his eyes were cold. Ice cold. Dangerous. On his neck, just above his collar, I saw a tattoo of a black dagger. He didn't look like a normal rich man. He looked like a man who could kill someone and never blink. The whole diner went completely silent. He walked in. He pushed the door and it banged against the wall. His eyes scanned the room once, and stopped on me. On me, dripping, dirty, humiliated, standing in a puddle of mop water. Then he looked at Jessica, who was still holding the empty bucket. His voice was low, calm, but every person heard it. "Who did it?" Jessica's smile faded. "We were just... just playing, sir..." He walked closer. "I asked you a question. Who poured dirty water on her?" Chloe pointed, shaking. "She... she did." Jessica dropped the bucket. It clanged loudly. The man didn't even look at her again. He walked straight to me. I stepped back, scared. "Don't... please..." He didn't care that I was dirty. He took off his jacket. Heavy, warm, smelled like expensive cologne and power. And he wrapped it around my shoulders, cove