Filed to story: My Husband Regrets Divorcing Me (Audrey & Cornell)
If Jemma truly sided with Vicki, then this was a veiled threat.
However, Nicole sensed that Jemma wasn’t one to simply follow orders.
Jemma possessed a mysterious aura, seasoned with time, like someone bearing a deep-seated story.
“I understand, Jemma,” Nicole replied. She was indifferent to Jemma’s implications. Her focus was solely on planning her next move.
As Nicole turned to leave, bloodstains were visible on her back.
Jemma halted her departure, asking, “What happened?”
Nicole saw the reflection of the bloodstains in a mirror behind her.
They weren’t severe, likely from being shoved against the table by Deniz earlier. She was unfazed by the situation and responded indifferently, “It’s nothing.”
“Don’t come to work for the next few days,” Jemma instructed.
Hearing this, Nicole’s anxiety spiked. She quickly responded, “It’s okay, Jemma. This injury isn’t serious. I can continue working as usual.”
Nicole’s worry stemmed from a fear that Vicki might learn of her rest and use it as an excuse to harm Austin, thus threatening her further. Additionally, Kingbel Club, part of the Hampton family’s enterprises, held her interest.
She saw an opportunity to uncover any illicit activities that might help hasten the downfall of the Hampton family. Moreover, she was puzzled about Melissa’s true identity and eager to dig deeper.
“What are you thinking? I’m not showing concern for you!” Jemma raised her eyebrows and clarified, “I meant that your service was lacking. You should spend a few days on training to improve.”
“Course?” Nicole was puzzled.
Jemma explained, “We offer special training for newcomers here on various skills, including wine service and communication. Come see me tomorrow to start your lessons. Don’t assume it’ll be easy. If you don’t perform well and make mistakes, I’ll double your fines!”
Nicole’s tension eased. She realized Jemma was directing her toward training rather than taking time off. She was agreeable to this arrangement since it meant she could remain at the club for her next step.
Nicole conveyed her readiness, “Okay, Jemma. I’ll begin training tomorrow.”
Seeing no reason to reproach Nicole further, Jemma departed.
Nicole retreated to the staff restroom, relieved to find single rooms that spared her the awkwardness of idle chit-chat.
Her body was sore from several collisions just moments ago. With no more workload for the day, she decided to lie down briefly before returning.
However, her rest was short-lived as a knock at the door interrupted her.
Nicole quickly sat up and said, “Come in.”
The door opened to reveal the petite, delicate girl from the chamber earlier. Her innocent appearance belied her expertise, as Nicole recalled how skillfully she had served wine, her movements graceful and alluring, a stark contrast to her demure look. Clearly, she was experienced in the club’s ways.
The girl offered a tube of ointment, advising, “Miss, this ointment works well for bruises. Please, feel free to use it.”
Nicole hesitated to accept, wary of using unknown products. Politely declining, she responded, “Thank you, but I’ll manage. It’s not that serious.”
Understanding Nicole’s caution, the girl reassured, “Don’t worry. Jemma gave this to me before. It’s meant for our injuries. It really helps.”
With this assurance, Nicole reluctantly accepted the ointment, careful not to spurn the offered kindness.
The girl, naturally sociable, took a seat and initiated a conversation. “My name is Elodie Bryant. What’s your name, Miss?”
Nicole simply pointed at her name tag and replied, “You can call me by this name.”
Unfazed by Nicole’s reluctance to reveal her true name, Elodie understood in their profession, everyone had their own tales and secrets to keep. “So, I will call you Cherry.”
Elodie’s persistence stirred a hint of suspicion in Nicole.
Nicole opted to observe first and then responded politely, “That’s fine.”
Elodie seemed amiable, quite the contrast from her demeanor in the chamber. She was notably enthusiastic.
“Cherry, did Deniz bother you later?” she asked.
Nicole eyed Elodie skeptically, wondering whether Elodie was Vicki’s spy. Was Elodie probing for information to report back to Vicki?
Nicole wasn’t just being overly cautious. Knowing Vicki’s methods, it was likely Vicki would have someone in the club monitoring her every move.
Wishing to keep her own counsel, Nicole replied uneasily, “That person… He wasn’t very good.”
Her answer was deliberately vague, neither fully criticizing nor praising Deniz, leaving much to the imagination.
Elodie didn’t pry further. Instead, she rambled on, “But you were lucky to escape any trouble. Deniz is really vile. He tends to hassle the new people here. He’s overweight and not pleasant to look at. He often demands that we do repulsive things…”
Elodie continued, but Nicole had no desire to hear more about Deniz’s misdeeds.
Rubbing her forehead, Nicole longed for some peace.
Noticing Nicole’s pale face, Elodie said, “Cherry, I hope I didn’t disturb your rest. I’ll leave now. Take care.”
Just then, someone called out for Elodie. She responded and turned back to Nicole, saying, “Cherry, I’ve been here over a year. If you ever need advice or have questions, just ask me. I know all about who’s troublesome and who’s generous here.”
Elodie’s forwardness was overwhelming for Nicole, who simply nodded and responded, “Okay.”
“I’ll be off then, Cherry.”
With Elodie’s departure, tranquility returned to the room.
Lying on the bed, Nicole’s thoughts drifted to Austin. Her concern for him prevented her from resting. At ten o’clock, she received a photo on her phone of Austin sleeping peacefully.
This was Vicki’s assurance. As long as Nicole worked here, a photo of Austin would arrive every two days.
Looking at the small figure in the photo, Nicole caressed it with her fingers, her eyes misting over. “Austin, I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
Time seemed to fly.
Nicole visited Kingbel Club daily, but Jemma only set up training for her.
The training was easy, and the instructor was kind. She primarily taught Nicole how to harness her feminine allure.
After recuperating for a few days, Nicole had almost fully regained her strength. It was then that Jemma summoned her to start working.
Nicole mastered a series of graceful maneuvers under her teacher’s guidance. Although she couldn’t drink alcohol, she was adept at engaging the clients with her conversation.
And not every client at Kingbel Club was like Deniz. Some just wanted basic service. Nicole would serve them drink and water on the side.
During this period, Nicole rarely crossed paths with Melissa due to differing schedules. However, from what Elodie shared, Nicole gathered that Melissa had been at the club for quite some time.
Melissa had previously crossed a significant client and had accumulated a substantial debt to the club, which she had yet to clear off.
Melissa was a solitary figure who would smile at the guests but would immediately make a sour expression once she stepped outside as if the world owed her something. No one wanted to be in a group with her.
The resemblance between Melissa and Nicole was uncanny, yet unexplained.
Everyone knew Melissa had undergone plastic surgery, but nobody knew whom Melissa had modeled her previous appearance until Nicole arrived.
With Nicole’s arrival, things took a peculiar turn. Melissa’s face seemed like a copy of Nicole’s, but since it was artificial, it ended up looking like a distorted version of Nicole.
Melissa applied heavy makeup daily, unable to face her reflection without it. The surgery had left several areas of her face misshapen.
Nicole purposely timed her arrival to coincide with Melissa’s work shifts, hoping to chat with Melissa. However, Melissa consistently dodged her. It seemed Melissa wanted to keep their interactions to a minimum, almost as if Melissa was scared of Nicole.
Perplexed by Melissa’s evasive behavior, Nicole decided to watch her discreetly.
Nicole’s observation paid off.
Melissa ate with her left hand, and she often ran her little finger through her hair. The way she moved and sat reminded Nicole of someone. But Nicole heard that person had vanished a while back.
Nicole followed Melissa to her room. Just as Melissa was closing the door, Nicole pushed inside.
“Ah, who are you…?” Upon recognizing Nicole, Melissa’s initial anger softened slightly, and she pleaded, “Please leave. You shouldn’t enter someone else’s restroom without asking.”
Ignoring the request, Nicole sat on the edge of the bed, gazed at Melissa intently, and slowly said, “You are Jamie.”
It seemed like ages since anyone had called Jamie by that name.
It appeared Jamie had been hiding here all these years, and she’d altered her face to resemble Nicole’s.
Nicole was utterly baffled. Why would Jamie choose to look like her?
What could Jamie possibly want?
“Why did you change your appearance to match mine? What’s your plan?”
Nicole asked.
Initially, Melissa appeared somewhat flustered, but she quickly regained her composure, rolling her eyes as she retorted, “This is my natural face. Who told you I changed to look like you?”