The roar of two sleek Ferraris pulling into the gym’s parking lot sent a ripple of excitement through the building. Heads turned, phones lifted, and whispers spread as the gleaming sports cars came to a stop. The doors swung open, and out stepped two stunning women—Alicia and Sara—dressed in designer athletic wear that hugged their toned frames.

  A hush fell over the gym as they strode inside, their confidence radiating like an aura. The receptionist froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening as the pair approached.

  "We’re looking for Britney," Alicia said smoothly, her voice carrying just enough authority to make it clear this wasn’t a request.

  The staff scrambled. Coaches nudged each other, murmurs spreading like wildfire. "Who are they?" "Why do they want Britney?"

  One trainer, wide-eyed, rushed to the back where Britney—the gym’s most sought-after fitness coach and Instagram sensation—was mid-session with a client.

  "Brit, you gotta come out front. Now."

  Britney frowned. "What’s going on?"

  "There are two women here. Like… rich rich. Ferraris and everything. They asked for you by name."

  Curious, Britney excused herself and stepped out—only to freeze when she saw Alicia and Sara waiting near the entrance. Their presence alone commanded attention, their posture rexed yet unmistakably powerful.

  Alicia’s lips curled into a knowing smile as she locked eyes with Britney.

  "There she is."

  Sara crossed her arms, scanning Britney with an appraising gaze. "You’re even more impressive in person."

  Britney blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… thanks? Can I help you with something?"

  Alicia stepped forward, her tone smooth as silk. "Oh, you absolutely can. Let’s talk somewhere more… private."

  The gym watched in stunned silence as the two mysterious women led Britney toward the VIP lounge, leaving behind a trail of whispers.

  The VIP lounge of the gym was plush—dim lighting, leather couches, and the faint scent of eucalyptus in the air. Britney sat across from Alicia and Sara, her fingers tapping restlessly on her knee. She had pyed it cool so far, but the moment they mentioned their patron, her pulse quickened.

  "So," Britney said, crossing her legs and tilting her head, "who exactly is this… Hezri?"

  Alicia smirked, exchanging a gnce with Sara. They had seen this reaction before—the subtle spark in the eyes, the barely contained greed.

  "A man of exceptional taste," Sara replied, her voice smooth. "And even more exceptional wealth."

  Britney’s lips curled. "Oh? And what does a man like that want with a fitness coach?"

  The air in the VIP lounge grew heavier as Britney studied the two women across from her. Their designer clothes, their effortless confidence—it all screamed money. And now, they were offering her a direct line to the source.

  Alicia exhaled, her polished demeanor slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of something more personal. "He’s… recuperating," she admitted. "Hospitalized for now, but he wants to focus on rebuilding his strength—diet, stamina, muscle. And when we searched for the best, your name kept coming up."

  Britney’s eyebrows rose. Hospitalized? That was unexpected. But the rest? That, she could work with.

  "So he needs a private trainer," she mused, tapping a finger against her lips. "And he sent you two to scout me?"

  Sara smirked. "Let’s just say we have a vested interest in his well-being."

  Britney’s gaze flickered between them—their expensive jewelry, their perfectly maintained figures. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face.

  "Oh, I see," she purred. "You’re not just his… associates, are you?"

  Alicia didn’t blink. "We’re his closest companions."

  Companions. Right. Britney had heard that word before—always from women who knew exactly what they were getting out of the arrangement.

  "And if I do a good job," Britney ventured, leaning forward, "would that make me a… companion too?"

  The silence that followed was thick with implication. Sara’s lips curled, and Alicia tilted her head, as if reassessing Britney’s boldness.

  "That depends," Alicia said smoothly. "On whether you can prove you’re worth the investment."

  Britney’s pulse jumped. Investment. The word sent a thrill through her. She knew exactly what that meant—cars, apartments, a life most women only dreamed of.

  "Tell me where to sign," she said, her voice dripping with ambition.

  The negotiation ended with a flurry of bank notifications.

  Britney’s phone buzzed twice in quick succession.

  20,000 – Deposit (Gym Sponsorship)

  10,000 – Personal Payment

  Her lips curled into a satisfied smirk. Easy money.

  Meanwhile, Sara’s account lit up with a 20,000 transfer—Hez’s usual way of ensuring his lovers never felt overlooked, even in business dealings.

  As Alicia and Sara strode back to their Ferraris, the weight of the transaction settled between them.

  Sara slid into the driver’s seat, her grip tight on the steering wheel. "That woman is trouble," she muttered. "Did you see how her eyes lit up at the first mention of money? She’s not here to train him—she’s here to climb."

  Alicia chuckled, fastening her seatbelt with a casual flick of her wrist. "Of course she is. But do you really think Hez hasn’t dealt with her type before?"

  Sara shot her a look. "You’re too rexed about this. What if she—"

  "What if she what?" Alicia interrupted, her voice cool. "Tries to seduce him? Please. Hez collects ambitious women like these cars collect dust. He’ll py her game, measure her worth, and decide if she’s worth keeping."

  Sara exhaled sharply but said nothing. The engine roared to life, a growling reminder of the power behind Hez’s name.

  "Trust his judgment," she said softly. "He always wins."

  Meanwhile, Hezri saw his Banking account is reduced to 5,700,000 as the 50,000 spent today was not refundable.