Marcus approached her slowly, stopping just a step away.

Melissa's reflection blurred against the cold glass window.

Gently, he caressed her face, his voice detached.

The watch slipped into her pocket.

His face pressed close to hers, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Since you've sold yourself once, why not do it again? You may not enjoy it, but I do. I've always liked your body."

Melissa shuddered.

Then, standing tall, Marcus commanded coldly, "Go clean yourself and get on the bed!"

She felt stripped of the right to refuse.

Willing to do anything to repulse him, even at the cost of her dignity, Melissa remained silent, moving towards the room. But she was halted.

Marcus gripped her arm, his sneer cutting. "Strip here. I want to see how low you can stoop."

“Marcus," Melissa began, tears threatening to spill again.

He shook off her hand, extracting a cigarette from his pocket.

Lighting it, he inhaled deeply. "Don't call me that. You've lost that right."

Melissa trembled, barely able to stand, yet he showed no mercy, expectantly awaiting her next move.

With resignation, she began to unbutton her shirt under his watchful gaze.

The sweetness of the past contrasted sharply with her current humiliation...

Melissa's buttons were halfway undone.

Overwhelmed by shame, her body trembled, making it difficult to proceed with undressing.

Marcus stood a step apart from Melissa, his eyes devoid of warmth, as if gazing at a stranger who had betrayed him, tinged with a hint of contempt.