After Dumping the CEO, I Went Back to Being the Billionaire

It was past ten when the night finally came alive.

The Moonlight Club was, without a doubt, the most exclusive nightlife destination in the capital.

This was where the city's elite came to play.

The higher the floor, the more decadent the entertainment.

On the first level, sultry live vocals wove through the bass-heavy music and the shuffle of flirtatious footsteps-a chaotic symphony that, strangely, put Stella Dawson completely at ease.

She lounged in a plush booth, legs elegantly crossed, a neat glass of brandy in hand. Her little black dress was a stark contrast against her pale, luminous skin.

"Hey gorgeous, can I buy you a drink?" As expected, another admirer approached.

Stella didn't even bother speaking. She simply waved him away with a lazy, dismissive gesture.

She'd lost count of how many men she'd rejected tonight. None of them sparked her interest-just not her type.

Kevin Porter sat nearby, engrossed in a drinking game with one of the waitstaff, though he kept stealing glances in her direction.

"Still drawing a crowd, I see," he smirked. "No one caught your eye yet?"

"They're all a bit bland, don't you think?" Stella remarked coolly.

"Good thing I came prepared. I booked a private selection for your viewing pleasure," Kevin grinned.

He gestured, and a waiter promptly appeared. "Shall I bring them over now, sir?"

"Yes, let's start with five. Let Stella have a look," Kevin nodded with satisfaction.

"Right away."

The waiter hurried off, his footsteps fading into the thumping music.

Kevin turned back to Stella, who was taking a slow sip of her drink. He rubbed his hands together with a conspiratorial smile.

Just then, a deep voice carried from the entrance.

"Mr. Sterling, the private lounge is on the fourth floor. This way, please."

Alexander Sterling stood at the foot of the staircase, his expression unreadable. He gave a curt nod and made to ascend.

But something-a pull, an instinct-made him turn his head. And there she was.

A woman in a sleek black dress, lounging in a booth as if she owned the place. Even in the dim, hazy light, her features were sharp and striking; those long, slender legs were impossible to ignore. An aura of effortless confidence and raw sensuality radiated from her.

He froze, his gaze locked on her.

What was she doing here?

"Mr. Sterling, would you prefer to stay at the bar for a moment?" His assistant, Jack Holden, inquired cautiously beside him.

Alexander didn't respond. His attention remained fixed.

He shifted slightly, and that's when he saw them-a group of shirtless male models parading towards her booth, lining up for her inspection.

His body went rigid. "What is this?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

Jack followed his line of sight-and did a double-take when he recognized the woman in question.

"That appears to be. one of the club's premium services," Jack stammered.

A cheerful waiter piped up from behind them, "Exactly, sir! Our elite hosts are very popular! We have female companions as well, if you're interested?"

"That won't be necessary." Alexander's quiet snort was laced with disdain.

He quickened his pace, swiftly heading for the upper floors.

There was no way Stella would dare to order male escorts. Even with her occasional dramatics, she had always been so timid around him.

She was like a scared little kitten-obsessed with him to the point of blindness.

None of those pretty boys could possibly hold a candle to him anyway.

He must have mistaken someone else for her from that distance.

Jack trailed behind, watching his boss's cold, decisive figure disappear upstairs. He sighed inwardly.

Perhaps. just perhaps, Mr. Sterling should have looked a little closer.

Since the divorce, Stella wasn't just surviving-she was thriving. Confident. Liberated. Fiercely independent.

But Jack knew better than to voice his thoughts. After all, not long ago, she'd hacked into the company's internal system using Alexander's credentials and spammed the entire staff directory with. creative declarations praising his physique and undying devotion.

The incident had been deeply embarrassing for Mr. Sterling. The office tension was palpable for weeks.

If it hadn't been for that final straw, perhaps things between them wouldn't have ended so abruptly.

.

Meanwhile, Stella was critically appraising the lineup of men before her.

They were handsome, well-built, and their demure expressions added a certain charm.

A definite upgrade from the clueless amateurs who had been approaching her all night.

She narrowed her eyes, offering a calm, slightly distant smile. "So, how old are you all?"

"I'm eighteen."

"Me too. eighteen."

"Same!"

They answered in a rushed chorus, faces etched with anxiety.

Stella chuckled softly.

Really? With those faint crow's feet, they expected her to believe they were eighteen?

Of course they lied about their age-it was part of the game here. Youth sold.

Everyone knew it was a facade, but nobody wanted the harsh truth.

"I'm twenty-four," the last one said quietly.

His honesty made Stella raise a brow. She looked at him with renewed interest.

It was rare to find someone that straightforward here. She was intrigued. "Come here."

She crooked a finger, and he hurried over to sit beside her. The others looked visibly frustrated.

One of them stepped forward, putting on a pitiful pout. "What about me, sis? Am I not good enough?"

"Be serious," Stella said, leaning slightly towards the man now seated beside her. "Take a look in the mirror. Does that look like an eighteen-year-old face to you?"

The man's face fell instantly. He awkwardly retreated with the rest of the rejected group.

She turned her full attention to the man beside her, relaxing into the plush cushions.

He was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, clearly unsure of what to do next.

"You don't know how to pour a drink?" Kevin frowned. "Is this your first day?"

"I-I'm sorry." he mumbled, bowing his head slightly towards Kevin.

"What's your name?" Stella asked, her curiosity evident.

"Rex Turner," he replied, his nervousness palpable. "I've been here a month, ma'am."

"Let me pour you a drink." His fingers trembled slightly as he filled her glass. She gave a slow, approving nod, and he proceeded to down his own drink in one go.

"You're not bad on the eyes," Stella remarked after a sip, her gaze playful.

Rex's cheeks flushed. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You've worked here a month and never. entertained a client privately?"

Stella knew these "elite hosts" weren't just here for conversation and drink-pouring.

Sure, the base pay was decent, but the real money came from. extracurricular activities-arrangements that had nothing to do with the club itself.

"I don't do that sort of thing. I'm just a standard host," Rex explained awkwardly, waving his hands. "Ma'am, I."

Kevin burst out laughing, nearly toppling off the couch.

"You won't make a fortune with that attitude!" he teased. "Why not stick with our Stella here?"

"She's generous. What's one more admirer in her collection?"

"You're not her usual type, but who knows? You might grow on her."

Rex's face turned crimson, but he held his ground. "Really, I. I don't do that."

Stella looked at him, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She raised her glass and finished the contents.

"Alright then. Your loss," she said with a nod. He quickly refilled her glass.

The music shifted again, the beat dropping heavier, and the dance floor erupted into a frenzy of movement.

Bodies swayed and laughter rang out, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch.

She closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the vibrant, intoxicating atmosphere.

Then, abruptly, a heavy, meaty hand clamped down on her shoulder.

Stella flinched. Her brows furrowed as she slowly, deliberately, turned to look.

Her gaze traveled up to meet a greasy, rotund face, crowned by a balding head, the owner's thick fingers digging into her skin.