For women like Belle, it was always a matter of success or failure. They knew the risks when they entered the industry, but most came with the hope that they would make it big. After all, the increasing number of women in this line of work indicated that many believed they had what it took to succeed.
She changed into another outfit, one that was even more daring than the previous one.
Wearing a plaid skirt and a blue-and-white shirt, she suddenly looked years younger, almost like a student again.
“I’ve been watching a show lately and learned a dance,” she said, eager to perform. “Would you like to see?”
“Dance,” Weston replied, his tone flat and unenthusiastic. He barely even looked at her, which only made Belle feel the need to impress him even more. The music began, and she poured all her energy into the dance, hoping it would captivate him. But Weston’s face remained unreadable, and his indifference made her feel unsure. Was he enjoying the performance?
Halfway through, Weston suddenly stood up and said, “Take your time.”
Belle stopped dancing, confused. Without a word, he walked out of the room, leaving her frozen. Her heart sank. Had she danced poorly? She rushed to grab his sleeve. “Do you not like it, Mr. Ford? I can sing for you instead…”
Weston glanced down at her hand before pulling it away. “Tell your manager I’ll be having you for the night.”
A mix of excitement and curiosity surged through Belle. Earlier, he hadn’t seemed impressed, so why had he changed his mind so suddenly?
Before she could dwell on it, Weston shot a glance at Ben, then turned to leave. The manager, assuming Belle had somehow offended Weston, rushed over, but Ben handed him a stack of cash instead.
“Take good care of Belle,” Ben said with a curt nod.
The manager’s face lit up as he received the money. “Of course! We will take good care of her!”
Once Ben left, satisfied, the manager turned to Belle. He had never been particularly interested in her—after all, he was surrounded by beautiful women every day. But seeing how Weston had taken an interest in her, something about Belle suddenly seemed more captivating. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of attraction toward her.
“You’re full of potential,” he remarked, his voice laced with admiration. “Even someone as powerful as Mr. Ford seems to have fallen for you. Do you know who his wife is?”
Belle’s eyes narrowed slightly as she processed the information. “Yes… It’s Guinevere.”
Belle sat still, her head lowered in thought, still unsure of how everything had unfolded.
The manager, now visibly smitten, couldn’t hide his feelings. “You’re going to make a lot of money here. Keep it up.”
Belle’s lips curled into a small smile. Despite her confusion, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. Weston’s generosity didn’t go unnoticed.
“Mr. Ford gave so much again…” she murmured under her breath. How could anyone not be drawn to someone as wealthy as him?
Just as she started to savor the moment, the manager’s mood shifted. His face dropped, and he rushed toward her dressing table, whispering urgently, “Hide. Guinevere is here.”
Belle didn’t have time to process the warning before the door swung open with a loud bang.
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