Default Title - His Sadistic Love

part 3 : 🌹Liza's Choice 🥲🥀🥀

Liza's POV

The city lights blurred as I hurried home, the night air cool against my skin. My feet ached from hours of modeling, and I longed to collapse into bed. But as I approached our apartment, something felt off. The door was slightly ajar, and an unsettling quiet hung in the air.

As I stepped inside, I froze. My mother sat on the couch, her face buried in her hands, silent sobs shaking her shoulders. My heart dropped. "Mom?" I whispered, dread pooling in my stomach.

She looked up, her eyes red and puffy. "Liza..." Her voice cracked. A mix of curiosity and concern washed over me. "What happened?"

"Your father..." she began, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "He got into a car accident. He's in the hospital."

A cold wave of panic hit me. "Is he okay?" I rushed to her side, my mind racing with fear.

"Not really," she admitted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "They say he needs surgery, and the bills... they're piling up."

I could feel my own heart racing, a mix of anger and guilt bubbling inside me. Just days before, I had stood up for a woman wrongfully accused by my boss, and I'd ended up unemployed. I had fought to defend her, but all I got in return was a pink slip. "Mom, I'm so sorry. If I hadn't gotten fired..."

"No, sweetie," she interrupted, shaking her head. "You did the right thing. I'm proud of you for standing up for her." But the weight of our financial struggles hung heavily in the air, and I could see the strain on her face.

"I know I don't earn much as a model," I said, a lump forming in my throat. "But I'll find a way to help. I'll take extra jobs, anything!"

Her eyes widened with worry. "Liza, you don't have to-"

"I want to," I insisted, my voice steadying. "We need this. I can't let Dad's bills crush us. I'll do what I have to do."

That night, I lay in bed, the weight of the world pressing down on me. I thought about the woman I had defended-how she had thanked me, her gratitude warming my heart even in that moment of despair. I knew I had to channel that strength into something greater.

Tomorrow, I would scour the city for opportunities. I wouldn't let my family down. I couldn't.

Author's POV

Liza strolled through the bustling city, her heart heavy but determined. The streets were alive with the chatter of people, the glow of neon signs illuminating her path, yet she felt isolated in her search for a job. Each storefront she passed held a flicker of hope, but as she peeked inside, her stomach tightened with anxiety.

With only two years of college under her belt, Liza knew her qualifications were limited. Financial struggles had forced her to make the hardest decision of her life-putting her education on hold to support her family. Every rejection she faced now felt like another weight added to her shoulders.

As she approached a small café, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The warmth and aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her, momentarily easing her worries. She approached the counter, where a barista greeted her with a smile.

"Hi! I was wondering if you're hiring?" Liza asked, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

The barista glanced at her manager, who shook his head subtly. "Sorry, we're not looking right now."

Disappointment washed over Liza, but she forced a smile. "Thank you anyway." She stepped back onto the street, the café's chatter fading behind her.

Each failed attempt chipped away at her confidence. She thought about her father's hospital bills, her mother's tears, and the weight of their expectations. Liza had always dreamed of completing her degree, but that dream felt like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the urgent need to provide.

As she walked, she spotted a flyer on a lamppost: "Help Wanted! Local Boutique." Hope flickered within her, and she quickly noted down the address. Maybe this would be different.

She spent the rest of the day visiting various shops, each time met with the same result. But with each rejection, she reminded herself of why she was doing this. For her family. For her father's recovery.

Exhausted but resolute, Liza headed home as dusk settled over the city. She knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but she was ready to fight for her family's future, even if it meant sacrificing her own dreams for a while longer.

Liza's POV

After days of searching with no luck, I found myself standing in front of an upscale bar that I had only heard whispers about. The building exuded an air of exclusivity, its polished facade glowing under the city lights. I had heard stories of women working here, earning good money as waitresses, but the rumors were laced with warnings.

Despite my apprehensions, I felt the weight of my family's struggles pressing down on me. My father needed help, and I couldn't afford to be proud. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The interior was lavish, with dark wood accents and soft, ambient lighting. A low murmur of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air. I made my way to the owner's office, my heart pounding with every step. As I knocked, I wondered if I was making a mistake.

"Come in," a deep voice called.

I entered to find a man in his forties, dressed impeccably, surveying me with a keen gaze. "What can I do for you?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm looking for a job," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I know I don't have a college degree, but I'm willing to work hard."

Without hesitation, he nodded. "We can always use good staff. The job is simple-be fast, be a good listener, and provide excellent service. Can you do that?"

Relief washed over me as he handed me a uniform. "This is your first shift. It starts tomorrow night. Be ready; it gets busy."

"Thank you," I said, feeling a mix of happiness and unease. This was a chance I couldn't pass up, but the path ahead felt murky. I was grateful to have a job, yet a part of me recoiled at the thought of working in such a place.

As I left, my mind raced with thoughts of what I was getting into. I knew I had to focus on my father's health and our financial struggles. But as I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. Would I be able to handle the atmosphere? Would I lose myself in this world of luxury and expectation?

Tomorrow night would be my first real test, and I needed to be ready-no matter the cost to my dignity.