Dirty Empire: A Dark Romance

by K. D Clark

  Once the nurse left, Hazel’s eyelids start to droop. She has to be exhausted. Every ounce of strength has been zapped from her in delivering the baby.

  “Sleep,” I encourage. “And when you wake up, we can go see him again.”

  She yawned and relaxed into the bed. A moment later, she was asleep. I scrolled through my phone as Hazel slept. We’d been throwing out baby names for a while, but nothing had stuck. As I looked up names, one stuck out. Kane. It sounded strong, just like my son would be, but unlike me, he wouldn’t learn to be tough out of necessity like I had. He’d be strong because he’d have everything he’d need to be successful. He had a mother who would surely spoil him and a father who would teach him all about life.

  ***

  A glorious day shone through the curtains. The cobalt sky couldn’t be any clearer, and there wasn’t a cloud in it. I sat on the couch across from Hazel’s bed, looking out the window.

  “Did you check on him?” Hazel asks eagerly, waking up from her sleep.

  “Yes, he’s good.” I’d walked down to the nursery a couple of times throughout the night just to check on our son even though I knew he was in good hands.

  “Have you thought of any names? We’ll have to fill out the birth certificate soon.” She pushes herself up to a sitting position on the bed.

  “Kane Stapleton,” I say proudly.

  “Kane Stapleton,” she repeats, trying out the name for herself. “I like it.”

  I get up and land a kiss to her forehead before taking my turn in the bathroom. We’re getting the DNA test results today. At my core, I felt like the kid was mine. While I had no proof, my gut instinct told me it was true. After leaving the bathroom, I go down to the cafeteria to get breakfast.

  I come back a few minutes later with breakfast in hand. Hazel must have asked for Kane to be brought to the room because the hospital bassinet is next to the bed. Hazel has a speculative look on her face. She’s holding an envelope in her hand.

  “What’s that?” I know the answer already. My stomach flip-flops in anticipation.

  “The results.” Hazel has a sad look on her face. “The nurse came in while you were gone and handed it to me.”

  I place the breakfast platter on the table and sit down. I cast my eyes up at the ceiling, “Okay...open it up, and let’s see what we got.”

  Hazel was clearly nervous now. All our waiting, all our arguments, all of the uncertainty and frustration, is about to come to an end. Hazel paused, sliding her finger under the lip of the envelope to open it. She methodically peels the rim back and pulls the edge of the paper out of the envelope. I sit anxiously awaiting the information. It seems like Hazel is moving in slow motion. The results paper is folded into three sections. She unfolds the first section, then opens the page up to the middle section, then unveiled the entire page.

  Just rip it open already, Hazel.

  She just stares at the paper, her eyes moving slowly from left to right. My heart begins to beat rapidly.

  “Well, what does it say?” I ask. She scoots closer to the end of the bed, holding the paper up to read. Tears streaming down her face, she read out loud.

  “The alleged father is not excluded as the biological father of the tested child. Based on testing results obtained from analyses of the DNA loci listed, the probability of paternity is 99.9996%. The probability of paternity is calculated-”

  “Wait!” I interrupt her. “Read that last sentence again. No, give it here and let me read it.”

  Tears formed a river down Hazel’s face. She hands the paper to me, and I read it aloud, “Based on testing results obtained from analyses of the DNA loci listed, the probability of paternity is 99.9996%.”

  I smoothed, reread it, and flopped down in the chair.

  “That’s my son!” I proclaim, fist-pumping the air. “Kane Brown Stapleton is my son!”

  In that instant, I felt all the pressure melt from my mind. The slow burn of torture was over. We had a baby boy!

  “I’m sorry if I’ve made this difficult. But this is OUR son,” I emphasized. “And he’s gonna have the best life possible.”

  Hazel couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. I picked up Kane. I brought him over to the bed where Hazel was sitting. I held Kane close to my heart.

  “Kane Brown Stapleton, Daddy and Mommy love you!” I handed the baby to Hazel and put my arm around her. Through all the abuse, the drama, the ups and downs of our relationship, we had weathered the storm and survived.

  Epilogue

  Hazel

  The day of the grand opening was now in full swing. Isabella was with us to watch Kane while we mixed and mingled. I considered her a friend now, and Isabella wouldn’t stay in her current job long. I wanted her to work with me as my assistant. I knew she would be ecstatic. This was what I wanted, to elevate women, to give them hope, and instill self-confidence. My consulting business had grown from more than just a law business and had turned into a women's empowerment movement. I wrote a blog post about my story. How I’d been in an abusive marriage and used my money from that to build my consulting business. I had a lot of women reach out to me and tell me similar stories. Going through it all firsthand, I knew I could relate to them.

  “We’re about to cut the ribbon,” Maverick whispered in my ear. His hand was around my waist, and he’d been talking with another man. I hadn’t been paying attention to anything they were saying.

  I smiled up at him. “Okay.”

  The office block was lined with red, blue, and yellow balloons that were twisted together, forming an arch over the main entrance of the office. The clean energy employees were situated on either side of Maverick and me. A couple of government officials stood waiting for the ribbon to be ceremoniously cut. Maverick and I each held onto a pair of oversized scissors as we stood before a small crowd of people.

  On three, we cut the ribbon, much to the pleasure of the crowd who applauded vigorously.

  Maverick and I hugged each other tightly. We stood under the large letters on top of the building, which conveyed the new company name: Clean Energy Plus. We walked over and hugged Marcie as well. Then we all turned and walked in the clean energy office. The design was colorful and festive. The outside of the office was painted in pink with bold green letters.

  Maverick had windmills out front to demonstrate how energy worked. He also had a series of posters explaining how it would benefit Mexico as a whole. Dustin, a long-time friend of Maverick’s, was there. He was one of the only people from Maverick’s old life that I approved of. He's a nice guy, and he has a family too. I felt content.

  Sometimes things happen in life that you think you’ll never recover from. But there’s light at the end of every tunnel. You just have to look for it.

  THE END

  I hope you enjoyed reading Dirty Empire.

  What’s next? Keep reading for a preview of King Of The Bronx

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  Also by K. D. Clark

  Merciless Queen

  Twisted Judgement

  Fallen Judgement

  Apprehension

  Admission

  Savage Spades

  King of The Bronx: Preview

  He belongs to the most notorious criminal organization in North America.

  I watched him kill a man without blinking.

  I've let him into my heart, and now I'm about to be his next target.

  I need thirty-thousand dollars to save the only family I have, and the only way I know how to get it is by stealing from Enzo Genovese.

  Raven

  I knew something was wrong the moment I put my key into the lock of the front door. It was dead silent on the other side. Usually at least a couple of the girls were awake by now getting ready for the long night ahead. The door creaked as I opened it. As I took a step inside, glass crunched under my boots. I followed the trail of glass to a broken vase a couple feet in fr
ont of me. The front desk was in complete havoc. Papers were flung everywhere, and the few decorations I had were now laying on the floor in pieces. The couch, where men waited for their turn, was flipped upside down. The pillows thrown astray. I shut the door behind me and continued into the room. All the girl’s rooms were upstairs except for Natalie’s room, which was to the left of the welcome desk. I turned to run up the flight of stairs to check on the girls when he came around the corner.

  “I was wondering when you’d show up.” His voice sent chills down my spine. I snapped my eyes shut, hoping this was all a bad nightmare and he would disappear. “Turn around, beautiful. I want to see that face.”

  My stomach turned, but I did as he asked. The Irish solider stood a few inches taller than me. His arms were covered in thick black hair, and his gut protruded over his belt buckle. He looked like our average client. He ran a hand over his greasy beard.

  “You’re late on your payment,” he said taking a step closer to me. I took a step back and he paused.

  “Don’t be scared, Princess, I—”

  “Where are my girls?” I snapped, cutting him off. There wasn’t any noise coming from upstairs, and that’s what scared me the most. I’d vowed to keep the girls at the house safe and so far, I was doing a shitty job at it.

  “The girls are fine. I took one for myself, but the rest are upstairs being good little whores.”

  I squeezed her eyes shut again, willing the tears away. I didn’t want to guess which girl he had taken for himself. Just because they worked in a brothel, everyone treated them like they weren’t human.

  When I opened my eyes again, I jumped at how close he stood next to me. I squared my shoulders, trying to appear strong. This man wanted me to be scared of him, but I couldn’t give him that satisfaction. He reached his hand out, almost like he wanted to tuck a loose strain of hair behind my ear. I quickly slapped his hand away. His yellowing teeth showed as he smiled.

  “I like when they fight back. Gives me more of a challenge.”

  “I’ll have the money next week,” I said. Anything to get this fucker out of the house. I needed to check on my girls. The silence from the floor above us was louder than the man’s voice.

  “You said that last week and guess what? No money.”

  He was right. The brothel wasn’t exactly doing as well as I thought it would. Not when I refused to cut the girls’ pay. They were the ones doing all the hard work. I wasn’t going to be like other owners in the area and degrade the women. I’d been in the same situation before once in my life.

  “I will have it this time,” I gritted out between clenched teeth.

  “You know there is another way to pay,” he said taking a step closer. He smelled like garlic and grease. “You could earn at least half of the payment.”

  My stomach turned, and I thought I was going to be sick. I tried to step back but hit the bottom of the stairs.

  “Tell Niall to give me another week. I’ll bring the money personally to him,” I said, even though the thought of walking into the Irish bar terrified me. I had to keep the Irish away from my brothel. I hated when they showed up like this. If I’d known when I took over the brothel that the Irish were involved, I would have never considered it. I wish I could go back in time and fix my stupid mistake.

  “You know, if you’d just let us sell some of your whores, it would cut down your loan by—”

  “No,” I snapped. It was sick to think the things men like this did to women. Human trafficking was one of their main sources of income. I wanted nothing to do with it. They’d offered me a position multiple times to oversee the sex trade, but that was too repulsive and low. Even for me.

  “Looks like you have bit of a soft spot for your whores, don’t you?” He was teasing me like a lion playing with his food before eating it.

  “Looks like you have a soft spot for women who’d rather choke on their own vomit than sleep with you.”

  His teasing smile dropped, and his eyes turned dark. His hand smacked against my face so fast, I barely had time to register the pain. My legs gave out, and my back hit the bottom step on the way down.

  “One month. Niall is feeling particularly generous. If I come back, we will take all your whores and sell them across the ocean, including you, to men who make me look like a saint.”

  The tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I kept it together, not wanting this man to see me weak. Men like him didn’t deserve my tears. He kicked a piece of glass before turning around and walking towards the door.

  “You should probably get this place cleaned up too. It’s not a good look.”

  He left out the door, and as soon as it shut, I allowed the tears to roll down my cheek. I’d give myself five minutes—that’s all—and then I needed to handle business. I hiccuped as I cried, all the emotion coming out like a tsunami that had been held back by a dam. My cheek burned from his slap, and I knew there was probably a bright red mark across my face. I hated the Irish more than anything else. They were terrible people who got off on threatening the small Irish community. I wiped my face after a moment and stood. I readjusted my T-shirt and ripped jeans, hoping to regain my composure before facing the girls. The women in my brothel had gone through enough in their life, and guilt swirled in my stomach at the thought of putting them through more trauma.

  *****

  I climbed the wooden steps to the top floor. It was hotter up here than the rest of the building. Ten bedrooms were upstairs, and none of them had doors, just a sheet that hung over the doorway. If a man got too handsy, I wanted to make sure the other girls could hear it. This also made sure he wouldn’t try to lock the door.

  “He’s gone,” I said to the empty hallway. The women came out of their rooms and instantly gravitated to me.

  Erica got to me first and engulfed me in a big hug. The smell of sweet lavender filled my nose. It was Erica’s favorite scent. She said it kept her relaxed.

  “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, Raven.” Erica wore a silk nightgown with a robe over the top, despite the fact that it was three o’clock in the afternoon. They were all probably still asleep when he’d busted in the front door and started destroying things.

  “It’s okay. He’s gone. We’re okay.”

  “He’s going to come back,” Erica said.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. I couldn’t let him come back, not again. I had to have the money this time. I just had no idea how I was going to get it. I looked around at the girls. I counted nine. They were all women of different shapes and sizes, most coming from the same terrible background I’d come from, and many from foster care or abusive relationships with nowhere else to go. At least here, they had a roof over their heads and money to earn so they could buy the things they needed.

  “Where’s Evelyn?” I asked.

  “In the bathroom…he came up here earlier,” Erica said.

  I walked past the girls to the shared bathroom at the end of the hall. I knocked on the wooden door, aware of the eyes on my back.

  “Evelyn?” I asked. The door opened, and Evelyn stood there with a towel wrapped around her body. Her blond hair was wet and stuck close to her face. She was the smallest of the girls. She’d lost a lot of weight after getting into some bad drugs a while back, but I had a strict rule: No drugs or I’d kick you out. Evelyn had sobered up quickly but hadn’t gain any of her weight back. My eyes instantly zoned in on the red mark around her neck.

  “Are you okay?”

  Evelyn nodded. “Yeah, he has a little dick.”

  I smiled and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry—”

  “It’s fine Raven. It could have been worse—we’re fine. The house is still standing. It’s okay.”

  *****

  It took two hours to clean up the mess in the lobby area. I bet it only took a matter of minutes for him to completely destroy it. I sat at the front desk going through paperwork. I had eaten with the girls in the kitchen after they cleaned up, but I needed to focus on the
money. All I had was a month to get the Irish the money I owed them. $30,000 dollars. I was surprised that Niall even let the payments get so high. I knew it was because he was just holding out. If he tried to sell my girls, they would bring in four times that amount. I flipped through pages of financial statements and credit card receipts, but there was nothing there. No hidden money or payment anyone owed the brothel. The girls kept seventy-five percent of what the clients paid. The other twenty-five percent went into the business. I took enough home to pay for my apartment and the things I needed on a daily basis, but never more than that. Compared to the foster homes I lived in as a child, this was luxury.

  “Are you okay?” Erica asked as she walked toward the desk and leaned against the front.

  “Just trying to figure out where to get this money from,” I said, leaning back in the chair and putting my hands on top of my head. I needed to think. There was only one person I knew who might loan me the money, and even that was a stretch.

  Order King of The Bronx

  About the Author

  K. D. Clark is a United States author living in Saint Louis, Missouri, with her high school sweetheart and being a dog mom to two amazing pit bulls. She spends every minute she can either working on her books or reading the great works of other romance authors. For more information on book releases and her writing process, please feel free to check out her website, Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.

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