The message arrived on a Tuesday.

Private arrangement. One night. Compensation attached. Address will follow upon confirmation. Discretion absolute.

I almost deleted it. The number was unknown. The language felt too clean, too deliberate. But the compensation figure made me open the attachment twice. It was more than I made in three months. Enough to clear the last of the debt I had been carrying since the previous year. Enough to breathe.

I typed a single word.

Confirm.

The address came four minutes later. A private residence in the hills, gated, no company name attached. I was told to arrive at nine, wear something simple, and bring nothing except my...