# Chapter Nine: The Offer
The market was alive with its usual chaos when Lolita returned to her stall. The cries of vendors shouting their prices, the chatter of customers haggling for better deals, and the occasional squeal of children running through the narrow paths filled the air. She moved with purpose, setting down her bag and beginning to arrange the oranges on her table. Her hands worked quickly, placing the bright fruits into neat piles.
But her mind wasn't in the market.
It kept pulling her back—to the mansion, to the offer Monica had made, and to the faces of the men who had watched her so intently. The memory was vivid, the words replaying in her head as if they had been carved into her thoughts.
She glanced at the oranges, her hands still moving as she worked, but her mind was already slipping away.
---
The room had been silent after Monica's final words, the weight of her offer hanging heavy in the air. Lolita had sat there, her dark eyes narrowing slightly as she stared at the blonde woman in front of her. Monica leaned back in her chair, her vape pen resting delicately between her fingers, exhaling a thin stream of smoke that curled upward into the air.
"You'll get fifteen million pesos," Monica had said again, her voice smooth, as if the number wasn't life-changing. "And I'll take care of your mother, your siblings… everything you've ever worried about will disappear."
Lolita's voice had been cold when she finally spoke. "What's the catch?"
Monica's smile widened, sharp and calculated. "We need dirt on someone. A very powerful man."
A pause.
"Sofian SAI."
Lolita's expression didn't shift, but her fingers dug into the arms of the chair. The name wasn't familiar, but it felt heavy, dangerous.
"And what makes you think I can get it?" she asked, her voice steady.
Shane, the broad-shouldered man with the cocky smirk, leaned forward, cutting into the conversation. "Because you're exactly his type," he said bluntly.
Lolita turned her gaze to him, her brow raising slightly. "His type?"
Shane's smirk grew wider. "Strong. Bold. Gorgeous." He gestured vaguely in her direction. "You're not like the other women we've sent before. They were… too obvious. But you? You're different. You don't play by the rules. SoFian likes women who can hold their own, who don't back down. He'll notice you, and when he does, he'll want you."
Lolita couldn't help the faint scoff that escaped her lips. "You sound awfully sure of yourself."
Monica cut in before Shane could respond, her voice calm but firm. "We've studied him, Lolita. Sofian SAI is a man of patterns. He surrounds himself with people he can control, but when it comes to women… he's drawn to ones he can't. You fit the profile perfectly."
Lolita leaned back slightly, her dark eyes flicking between Monica and Shane. "And when he notices me? What then?"
"You get close to him," Monica said, her tone casual, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Gain his trust. Find out his secrets. Anything we can use to bring him down."
"Secrets like what?" Lolita asked, her voice sharp.
Monica shrugged elegantly. "Business dealings, criminal connections, anything that gives us leverage. He's careful, but everyone slips up when they're comfortable. Your job is to make him comfortable."
Lolita didn't flinch. "Why not send one of your own people? Why me?"
Monica leaned forward, her blue eyes locking onto Lolita's. "Because you're not one of us. You're an outsider. Fian won't see you coming. You're smart, resourceful, and you have nothing to lose. That makes you dangerous. And it makes you perfect."
Lolita said nothing, her mind racing as she processed the words.
"Fifteen million pesos," Shane said again, his voice dropping slightly. "Think about what that could do for your family. Your mother could get the care she needs. Clara's schooling, Matteo's future—it's all within your reach."
Monica seeing Lolita's hesitation leaned forward, her perfectly manicured nails tapping lightly against her glass of wine. Her smile was gone now, replaced by something colder, sharper—a predator revealing its teeth.
"You seem hesitant, Lolita," Monica said, her voice smooth but carrying an undercurrent of steel. "Perhaps you're forgetting what's at stake."
Monica gestured toward one of the guards standing near the door. The man stepped forward, holding a thin folder in his gloved hands. He handed it to Monica, who flipped it open and turned it toward Lolita.
Photographs spilled across the polished mahogany table—her mother, frail and bedridden; Clara reading a book at her school park; Matteo playing barefoot in the dirt road outside their home.
Lolita froze.
Monica's voice was soft, almost sympathetic. "You see, Lolita, we've been watching you for a while. Watching them. Such fragile lives, so easy to… disrupt."
Lolita's heart slammed against her ribs, but she forced herself to remain still. "What are you saying?"
Monica leaned closer, her icy blue gaze locking onto Lolita's dark eyes. "I'm saying that accidents happen every day in San Pablo. A fire, a robbery gone wrong, maybe a drunk driver swerves onto the wrong side of the road…" She let the words hang in the air, each one sharp as a dagger.
"You wouldn't dare," Lolita said through gritted teeth, her voice trembling with controlled rage.
Shane chuckled from his chair, his boots propped casually on a nearby ottoman. "Oh, darling, we wouldn't want to. But sometimes people leave us no choice."
Lolita crossed her arms, her chin tilted upward in defiance. "I'm not your puppet. You can't just pull strings and expect me to dance."
A thin smile crept across Monica's face, and she set her glass down with deliberate care. "Oh, but I can. And I will."
Lolita's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. Every instinct in her body screamed to lunge at Monica, to wipe that smug expression off her face—but she couldn't. Not with her family's safety hanging by a thread.
Monica straightened, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her silk blouse. "Let's not make this messy, Lolita. We both know you're smart enough to make the right choice. Think of your mother. Think of Clara. Think of little Matteo."
Lolita's knees felt weak, but she locked her stance, refusing to let them see her falter.
"You're monsters," she spat, her voice low and venomous.
Monica's smile returned, cold and victorious. "No, dear. We're just businesspeople. And you're about to become one of us."
The silence that followed was deafening. Lolita stared at the photographs scattered before her, each one a reminder of the people she couldn't afford to lose.
"Fine," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do it."
Monica's smile widened. Shane let out a low whistle, clapping his hands together. "Atta girl."
---
The sky was painted in hues of orange and purple, but she barely noticed.
Her gaze drifted across the market, watching mothers haggle over vegetables and children chase each other through the crowd. Her mind wandered to Clara who's at school and her bedridden mother and Matteo sigh escaped her lips they had no idea how close they had come to danger.
Lolita swallowed hard, a sharp ache building in her chest. She had no choice now. She was walking into the lion's den, and she had to do it alone.
Sofian SAI the name felt heavy on her tongue. Who was he? What kind of monster would she have to outwit?
Her jaw set, and her dark eyes burned with quiet determination. If Monica thought she could control her like a pawn on a chessboard, she was mistaken.
Lolita would play their game. She would step into the world of wealth, power, and secrets. But she would do it her way.
Because one thing was certain—no matter how dangerous Sofian SAI was, no matter how many traps Monica had laid out for her…
Lolita would survive..
And she would win.
…*