The phone rang shrilly.

Yvonne Sherwood pressed the answer button. Oscar Sherwood's voice came through the receiver.

"Yvonne, I'm out of options..."

Her fingers tightened instantly, nails digging deep into her palms.

"Dad, you want me to work as an escort?" Her voice trembled. "I'm your own daughter!"

Tears welled up in her eyes but stubbornly refused to fall.

Kyle Cortez's humiliation still echoed in her ears. Now even her own father would do this to her.

"I know I've failed you..." Oscar's voice cracked with tears. "But those men said if we don't repay the debt in six months, they'll kill me and Oliver..."

"I might as well die!" he suddenly screamed hysterically.

Yvonne closed her eyes.

The same old act.

But what could she do? Her mother was gone. He was her only family left.

"Enough!"

She took a deep breath. "I'll figure out the money."

Hanging up, she stood before the floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside, the city glittered with skyscrapers and neon lights.

Twenty million.

The number crushed her lungs.

The club...

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

It was the last place she'd ever stoop to.

But what other choice did she have?

Three months later.

The maternity hospital bustled with activity.

Ethan Roscente carefully supported Jenna Roland as they exited the examination room.

"Take it slow." His hand remained protectively at the small of her back.

Jenna's baby bump had become noticeably prominent.

"What's today's date?" she suddenly asked.

Ethan blinked.

"April twenty-first." She grinned. "My birthday."

He frowned in dismay. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Silly." Jenna playfully punched his arm. "I want hotpot."

Ethan chuckled. "So that's your game?"

"Pregnant women get what they want!" she declared imperiously.

He affectionately pinched her cheek. "Alright, let's go."

The driver turned the car toward their usual hotpot restaurant.