The door flew open just as her knuckles were about to make contact.

A woman stumbled out, her clothes disheveled, collapsing onto the floor with a sharp cry of pain.

From inside, a rough male voice cut through the air. “If you can’t play the game, don’t waste my time. You’re ruining the mood!” Isabella’s muscles tightened as she understood exactly what was happening inside that room.

A cold dread prickled down her spine.

She started to retreat, but the man had already spotted her. “Well, hello there. New around here?” he asked, his eyes roaming over her with unmistakable hunger.

Thinking fast, Isabella replied, “My apologies. I’m just passing through.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. Then he noticed the expensive suit jacket draped over her shoulders.

It was impeccably tailored, dark, and screamed luxury.

Wearing a man’s jacket meant she wasn’t alone. And the quality of that jacket meant the man she was with was powerful—someone not to be crossed.

This man was here for entertainment, not a fight.

But Isabella’s striking beauty made it difficult for him to simply let her go. Grunting in frustration, he kicked the sobbing woman on the floor. “Useless,” he muttered, then slammed the door shut.

Isabella exhaled in relief and knelt to help the crying woman. “Are you all right?” she asked gently.

Tears streamed down the woman’s face. “They’re monsters…”

As Isabella comforted her, she also gathered crucial information.

“They… forced me to…” The woman’s voice broke, each word trembling with fear.

Isabella listened carefully, slowly putting the pieces together. Inside the VIP room, a man in his forties sat at the center of attention, surrounded by eager sycophants. The drink-sellers were pressured into performing lewd acts, but the man in charge showed no interest.

“He didn’t even look at me…” The woman wept, her pain deepening. “They said I was worthless… then threw me out like trash.”

In that moment, Isabella felt certain that Alexander was a man of principle. If she could bypass his entourage and speak to him directly, the risk would be far lower.

Stepping out of the Midnight Lounge, Isabella lingered near the entrance, scanning every face that left, determined not to miss Alexander. The night air brushed against her exposed skin, lifting strands of hair from her forehead. Even in the dim light, her beauty was undeniable—drawing looks from every direction.

A man with slicked-back hair and a flashy suit approached. “Hey gorgeous, care for a drink? Name your price.”

Isabella shook her head, her voice cool and firm. “I’m waiting for someone.”

His expression darkened. “Don’t play hard to get.”

He lunged, grabbing her arm to drag her inside. Panic surged through her. “This is a public place! Let me go!”

He laughed harshly. “You’re standing out here looking like that—don’t act so innocent. Entertain me, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

He reached for her again, eyes glinting with greed. But Isabella fought back—her hand swung out, landing a sharp slap across his face.

He stumbled back, shock turning to fury. “You bitch! How dare you hit me?”

Enraged, he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against a nearby car. The impact stole her breath. Her vision began to blur.