Authors POV The club throbbed with a bass that felt like a heartbeat, but in the dressing room, the air was cold. A boy sat before the vanity, a single tear cutting through his stage makeup. He was the club’s most demanded prize, a "crown jewel" who secretly loathed every silken thread of the life he’d been forced into. Steeling himself, he masked his grief and stepped toward the VIP section, his gait turning to practiced grace. Then, the atmosphere curdled. The heavy entrance doors burst open, and the music seemed to dim under the weight of a new presence. The "King" walked in—a man whose name was synonymous with blood and silence. He moved through the crowd like a predator through deep water, his dark gaze cutting through the neon haze until it locked onto the boy on the stage.