The woman curled her lip and slid over a registration form.“ID.Five-hundred cash deposit.”
Clara reached instinctively for her bag and found nothing.
Only then did she remember—her purse,her phone,everything—left behind in that villa.
She had nothing on her but the humiliating scraps of underwear she wore.
The color drained from her face.She forced out the words:“I…I don’t have cash or my phone.Could I—”
The woman’s expression turned instantly impatient and contemptuous.“No money?No ID?Then why come here for a room?What do you think this place is?Go on,get out!”
Her gaze was the kind used for women of ill repute.
Clara flinched under it,humiliation burning deeper.
She took a steadying breath,clinging to the last shred of composure.“I…I have a card.I can pay with a card.”
She remembered the hidden pocket sewn into the side of her underwear where she always kept a spare debit card—her own savings,part of her dowry,never mingled with Adrian Cole’s assets.
The woman looked doubtful but handed her the card reader.
Clara’s trembling fingers slid the thin card in.
Transaction failed.
She tried again.
Transaction failed.
“What’s going on?Out of money?Don’t waste my time,”the woman snapped.