Owned By Mistake

Cherry had no choice but to follow Mr. Evans' instructions. Her hands trembled slightly as she poured wine into a glass and offered it to one of the guests. But instead of taking it, the man simply smirked.

"Is this your first time, little girl?" he asked, his voice low and mocking.

The question made Cherry's cheeks flush with shame. Her silence only amused him further. To someone like him, her timid demeanor didn't belong in a place like this. She looked too young. Too untouched.

Knox, lounging nearby, let out a short laugh. He elbowed his friend Gilbert, who was quietly focused on his MacBook, completely ignoring the people and noise around him.

"Hey, give that to Gilbert Ace Carter," Knox ordered Cherry with a grin. "He's the guest of honor tonight. Make sure you serve him with a smile."

The lounge was holding a private welcome party for Gilbert's return from California, courtesy of Knox and Eros. But as usual, Gilbert couldn't care less. He was more interested in his work than the party thrown in his name.

Cherry's heart pounded as she approached Gilbert. Her grip tightened on the tray. She could barely breathe from the nerves. But just as she neared the sofa where he sat, something unexpected happened.

Knox, entertained by the new waitress, saw an opportunity for a joke. He extended his leg subtly and kicked her shin.

Cherry gasped and lost her balance, stumbling forward. The tray flew from her hands. Wine spilled,then she fell straight into Gilbert's lap.

A second of stunned silence passed. Then chaos.

The deep red wine soaked Gilbert's expensive slacks. Cherry's face flushed crimson as she scrambled to get up. But the soft leather couch didn't give her much support, and in her panic, her face pressed against his lap,right where the heat of the accident had made things worse.

Her breath hitched. Her mind went blank. Mortification rooted her to the spot.

Knox burst into laughter. "Looks like all the women go weak in the knees when it comes to you, Gilbert!"

The other men joined in, their laughter bouncing off the lounge walls.

Cherry froze. Humiliated. Like a child being mocked in front of a crowd.

And Gilbert?

His jaw clenched. His knuckles whitened. He closed his laptop with a sharp snap and looked down at the mess,his pants, the wine, the trembling girl in front of him.

Then, in a cold, controlled voice, he said, "Get off me."

Cherry scrambled to her feet in a panic, but in her haste, her hand accidentally tugged at Gilbert's pants. Her fingers brushed against something she instantly recognized,and it made her freeze in horror.

Gilbert stiffened.

A strange heat stirred in his core, and it infuriated him. How could his body react like this to her? A woman he wanted nothing more than to throw out of the room. The situation had already humiliated him, but now... this?

Cherry's mind spun as her face turned scarlet. She was mortified beyond belief. What just happened? Why did it feel so wrong, yet her body felt so tense? She hated that her thoughts suddenly strayed to him,the man who had once stepped in between her and danger. But this wasn't a rescue. This was a disaster.

Before she could process anything, Gilbert grabbed her roughly by the collar and yanked her away from him. The force of it made her stumble slightly.

"Are you here to work, or to flirt?" he spat, his voice low and sharp enough to cut through bone.

Cherry stared at the floor, her heart throbbling violently. She could feel the burning stares all around her. The room had gone quiet, but their judgment was deafening. She felt like she was on trial,and losing.

"S-Sorry... I'm leaving," she whispered, barely holding back the tears threatening to fall.

She turned around, desperate to escape, but Gilbert's cold voice rang out behind her.

"Stop."

Her feet froze mid-step.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his tone calm, but laced with danger. He casually lit a cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he stared her down.

Cherry didn't answer. She couldn't. Her throat was closing up with humiliation.

"I don't recall dismissing you," he said, his eyes narrowing.

Knox leaned back in his seat, smirking as if he were watching a live drama unfold. "Damn, baby girl. You just turned your back on Gilbert Ace Carter. Is that how they train the staff at Imperial now?" he mocked, loud enough for the whole room to hear.

Cherry slowly turned to face them again, her eyes red-rimmed, a tear slipping down her cheek. She looked so out of place,drenched in shame, like a fragile bird in a room full of wolves. Her uniform clung to her like a second skin, soaked with spilled wine and embarrassment.

But Gilbert's gaze didn't waver. He wasn't done.

His eyes, dark and unreadable, stayed on her like a hawk.

Just hours ago, he'd seen her crying on campus. At the time, he thought it was out of heartbreak over another man. A guidance counselor, no less. The same woman now stood in front of him, drenched in wine, looking like she had nowhere left to run.

And yet, somehow, she still stirred something inside him. Something dangerous.

Was she really just a flirt? Or was she something else entirely?

Gilbert tapped the edge of the glass table lightly, the soft clink echoing in the dim lounge.

"You're here to serve alcohol, aren't you?" he said, his tone calm but razor-sharp. "Then drink that."

Cherry stiffened. Her fingers clenched at her sides as she bowed her head. "I-I don't drink, Mister Ace Carter," she said in a trembling voice.

Gilbert didn't flinch. He simply leaned back on the leather sofa and crossed his arms.

"Ten thousand per glass."

The words hung in the air like a challenge.

"How many can you take is up to you."

Cherry's eyes widened in disbelief. "T-Ten thousand?" she repeated, unsure if she heard him right.

Gilbert didn't answer. He didn't need to. His eyes stayed on her with the same cold indifference he reserved for people he didn't trust, or had already judged.

Cherry's thoughts spiraled.

Ten thousand per glass. If she could take even two or three, that would be enough to pay part of Luke's hospital bill. Maybe buy the next round of medicine. Maybe even help with the tuition she now had to shoulder after her scholarship had been unjustly revoked.

Her life had become a chain of sacrifices. After class, she rushed to a fast-food job, then dragged herself to the Imperial Hotel by midnight. At 3 AM, she'd clock out, walk home half-asleep, nap for barely three hours, then repeat it all again. Every day, she was living on fumes.

And lately, her body was beginning to show the cracks, her frame thinner, her face paler, the circles under her eyes deeper.

But what choice did she have?

Nobody else would carry this burden for her.

Gilbert gave a disinterested hum, his gaze flicking lazily across the room.

Cherry bit her lip hard enough to taste iron, then nodded.

"O-Okay," she whispered. "I'll do it."

What she didn't say, but felt like a scream in her chest, was how much she hated herself for agreeing.

Because alcohol, to Cherry, wasn't just bitter. It was cursed.

When she was a teenager, her mother had turned to drinking after their father died. Cherry remembered the first time her mother came home drunk, wild, angry, unpredictable. And then it became routine. Cards, alcohol, and violence.

Cherry had learned to block her own body with hers so Luke wouldn't be hit. Every bruise, every slap, every burn she endured was to keep her little brother safe. Because one cry from Luke meant twice the punishment for both of them.

Alcohol turned her mother into someone else, someone cruel and blind.

That's why, for Cherry, a glass of wine wasn't just a drink.

It was a memory.

It was pain.

It was poison.

But still, she picked up the glass with shaky hands, because right now, she had no one else left to protect but herself and her brother.

And this was the price of survival.

But Cherry had no choice.

Every time she remembered her younger brother lying unconscious in that hospital bed, fighting for his life, it was like her own heart was being slowly ripped apart. She'd rather bleed herself dry than let Luke down. She had to endure, even if it broke her. Even if it meant swallowing something that felt like poison.

With trembling fingers, Cherry picked up the bottle. Her grip was unsteady, but she managed to pour the liquor into the glass. She bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood, then brought the glass to her lips and took a sip.

The taste was far worse than she imagined.

The second the bitter liquid touched her tongue, her throat closed up. She coughed violently, choking on the sharp sting of the alcohol. Her chest heaved as her body rejected it. The wine she hadn't managed to swallow spilled down the front of her blouse, soaking the fabric and dripping onto the floor. Her shoulders hunched as she doubled over, one hand pressed against her chest while the other clung desperately to the glass.

Knox watched her, half-shocked and half-amused.

"That one doesn't count, baby girl," he said with a laugh, shaking his head. "Didn't even drink a full drop."

Cherry's face flushed with shame. Her nose turned pink, her eyes welled up with fresh tears from the burn of the wine and embarrassment. She looked like a kitten left in the rain, so small, so humiliated, so out of place in a room full of predators.

Still, Gilbert's expression didn't budge.

He sat back, arms folded across his chest, eyes flat and unreadable as he stared at her. He didn't flinch at her tears, didn't shift at her shame. The coldness in his gaze didn't melt, not even for a second. If anything, he looked bored.

To him, this wasn't enough of a punishment.

He had no sympathy left for the woman he believed had manipulated his grandmother. To him, this was a consequence, an inevitable one for someone who dared to step into a world like his.

What did she expect? Did that money flow easily in places like this?

She was wrong.

This wasn't just about serving wine.

In a place like the Imperial Lounge, the women didn't just sell alcohol. They sold smiles. They sold lies. They sold their bodies.

And while he might not see Cherry as a real wife, Gilbert still wouldn't let her drag his name through the dirt before the annulment was finalized. He couldn't afford the scandal, not with Grandma Mathilde still in fragile condition.

Meanwhile, Knox's amusement faded when he saw Cherry's tears spill straight into the glass. His brows pinched slightly as a hint of guilt flickered across his face.

"Baby girl," he said, voice softer this time, "if you can't handle it, don't force yourself. Just apologize to Gilbert Ace Carter. He didn't,"

But before he could finish, Cherry raised the glass again.

No words. No explanation.

She simply poured more liquor into the cup, closed her eyes, and drank.

This time, she didn't cough. She didn't flinch. She had figured out a way to fight through it, to swallow the heat like she'd swallowed every bitter part of her life.

But the burn didn't lessen.

As the liquor slid down her throat, it scorched everything inside. A deep, painful warmth bloomed in her chest and spread like fire into her stomach.

Still, she kept her face blank. She wouldn't cry again.

Not in front of them.

She couldn't afford to look weak anymore.

Cherry clamped her hand over her mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. Her stomach churned violently, but she forced herself to keep it down. Without hesitation, she poured another glass. Her fingers trembled as she brought it to her lips. The second sip burned even more than the first.

Her pale cheeks were now flushed, her breathing uneven, and her slender frame visibly shaking.

Knox, who had been watching her carefully, finally couldn't stay silent. He leaned over and frowned at Gilbert.

"Bro, that's enough. She can't handle it. If she keeps going, she's going to pass out, or worse."

Gilbert didn't even look up from the table. His voice came out flat and cold. "I don't care if she dies. She's the one who wants it, not me."

The words hit Cherry harder than the liquor.

Her blurry eyes filled with tears again. What had she done to him to deserve this much hate? Was it truly that easy for him to watch her destroy herself? Did he hate her so much that he'd rather see her collapse in front of everyone than give her a shred of mercy?

But she blinked the tears away and shook her head weakly.

It doesn't matter anymore.

She didn't need his love. She never had it. What she had was Luke. What she had was the memory of her little brother's smile and the warmth of his small hand holding hers when they used to walk to school. That was enough to keep her going.

With renewed determination, Cherry poured the third glass and drank it.

And the fourth.

But as the liquor settled into her system, her body started to fail her. Her hands dropped the bottle with a soft clink, and her knees gave out. She slid to the floor, her head lolling slightly to the side.

Knox stood abruptly, his brows furrowed in concern. "Baby girl, that's enough. You're proving your point. He's not worth it."

But Cherry stubbornly shook her head and tried to sit up again. "N-No! I can still drink," she slurred, her voice barely making sense.

She raised a shaky finger, pointed directly at Gilbert, and sobbed, "That guy, he's bad, but he'll give me money if I drink."

The room fell silent.

Even Knox froze.

No one, absolutely no one in Luzon, had ever dared to call out Gilbert Ace Carter like that. Not competitors, not politicians, not even enemies. Because to cross Gilbert meant destruction. The man had power in every corner of the business world, and enough influence to make people disappear.

And yet, here was this fragile girl, sitting on the cold floor, drenched in wine and tears, drunkenly accusing him in front of everyone.

Everyone stared at Gilbert, waiting for him to explode.

But Gilbert didn't move.

His face remained stone cold, his jaw clenched tight.

He could hear her words echo in his head, "He's bad."

That wasn't the first time someone called him that, but somehow, coming from her, it left a mark.

He watched her trembling form, her flushed cheeks, her tear-streaked face, and for the first time in a long time, something flickered in his chest.

Not guilt.

Not pity.

Just a pause.

As if, for the briefest second, he remembered something that made him human.

Cherry was slurring her words, her voice barely coherent now, but her message was loud and clear. She kept repeating it like a broken record, clinging to the only thought her spinning mind could grasp: "Bad people... bad people... he's bad, Gilbert Ace Carter, bad man,"

She hiccupped between sobs, her words tumbling out like a child's desperate cry for help.

The room was deathly quiet except for her voice.

Everyone was still.

Gilbert's jaw ticked as he stared down at her.

The insult stung more than he wanted to admit.

He should have been used to it, he'd been called far worse. Ruthless. Arrogant. Inhuman. But never like this. Not from someone like her. Not from someone who looked at him like he was the monster under her bed.

He let out a low, bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "What a joke," he muttered under his breath. "She's drunk out of her mind and still has the guts to spit on me."

Just then, the manager of the Imperial Hotel came barreling into the VIP lounge, pale and frantic. "M-Mister Ace Carter!" he practically dropped to his knees. "I sincerely apologize for this mess. She's new here. I'll handle this immediately, sir. Please don't take this against the hotel."

Gilbert didn't even look at him.

The manager, panicking, signaled the nearby security to drag Cherry out of the lounge quietly. He couldn't risk Gilbert blacklisting the hotel,it would be the end of their business.

But as the bodyguards tried to lift Cherry from the floor, she panicked and jolted upright, stumbling toward Gilbert. She clung to his arm with what little strength she had left, her eyes unfocused and watery, her voice trembling.

"D-Don't, don't go," she whimpered, burying her face into his sleeve. "Please, don't go,"

Gilbert froze.

The guards were waiting for his signal.

But he didn't say a word.

Cherry, swaying on her feet, looked up at him with a face so broken and vulnerable it made something uncomfortable twist in his chest.

Her red, glassy eyes stared into his, and in a barely audible voice, she whispered something that made everyone hold their breath,

"You haven't paid yet."

It wasn't the money.

It was the dignity.

The humiliation.

Gilbert stared down at her. His heart was steady, but something inside him wavered.

He could easily turn around and walk out.

But for the first time that night, he didn't know what to do.