Chapter One: Sold Before Midnight
1448 Words
The first time I heard my father sell me, he sounded bored.
Not angry. Not guilty. Just tired, like discussing another business problem before midnight.
I stood outside his office door with my fingers wrapped around a tray of untouched champagne glasses while men twice my age decided what my life was worth.
The music downstairs was loud enough to shake the walls. Rich people laughing. Crystal glasses clinking. Cameras flashing every few seconds because tonight was supposed to celebrate another merger for the De Luca empire.
That was what the news would call it tomorrow.
A celebration.
Nobody would mention the fact that my future was being traded upstairs like casino chips.
“You promised this debt would disappear after the marriage,” a man inside the office said sharply.
“It will,” my father replied. Calm. Cold. “My daughter understands her responsibilities.”
I almost laughed at that.
My father had never once asked what I understood.
Another voice entered the conversation. Deep. Rough. Dangerous enough to silence the room.
“And if she refuses?”
Even through the door, that voice felt heavy.
My chest tightened.
There was a long pause before my father answered.
“If she refuses,” he said quietly, “remind her what happened to her mother.”
Every part of me froze.
The tray slipped slightly in my hands, glasses rattling together.
Inside the office, the conversation stopped.
I backed away from the door immediately, my pulse pounding so hard it hurt. For a second I thought someone would open the door and catch me listening, but the music downstairs swallowed the noise.
I forced myself to breathe.
My mother.
Nobody in this family talked about her.
Not after she disappeared eleven years ago.
As a child, I used to ask where she went. My father would leave the room every single time. My sister would change the subject. The staff would suddenly become deaf.
Eventually I stopped asking.
In families like mine, silence was another form of control.
I swallowed hard and carried the tray downstairs before anyone noticed I was gone.
The ballroom looked beautiful enough to belong in a movie. Golden chandeliers glowed above hundreds of wealthy guests dressed in diamonds and designer suits. Politicians. Investors. Socialites. People smiling with expensive teeth while pretending they weren’t all terrified of losing money.
The De Luca family owned half the city.
Hotels. Casinos. Shipping companies. Real estate.
Power.
At least that was what the world believed.
Lately, I had started noticing cracks beneath the perfect image. Closed-door meetings. Angry phone calls. My father drinking more than usual. Security guards suddenly everywhere.
Something was wrong.
And somehow I had become the solution.
“Careful.”
I nearly jumped at the sound of my sister’s voice beside me.
Vivian looked flawless in silver silk and diamonds wrapped around her throat. She always looked flawless. That was her real talent. Smiling while making people bleed.
Her eyes dropped briefly to the shaking glasses in my hands.
“You look nervous,” she said softly.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
She took one champagne glass from the tray before leaning closer.
“You should smile more tonight,” she whispered. “Tonight changes everything.”
A chill ran through me.
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated inside my clutch purse.
Unknown Number.
One message.
RUN.
My stomach dropped.
I looked around the ballroom quickly.
Nobody seemed out of place.
The orchestra kept playing near the staircase. Waiters moved through the crowd carrying silver trays. Wealthy women laughed too loudly near the champagne tower.
Normal.
Everything looked normal.
But suddenly I couldn’t breathe inside that room anymore.
Vivian studied my face carefully. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Another lie.
Her expression darkened slightly, like she knew exactly when I stopped trusting her.
Then my father appeared at the top of the staircase.
The entire ballroom quieted instinctively.
That was the effect Alessandro De Luca had on people.
Fear dressed as respect.
“My friends,” he announced smoothly, raising his glass. “Tonight is not only about business. Tonight is about family. A new beginning.”
My blood turned cold.
No.
No, no, no.
I already knew what was coming.
His eyes found mine across the ballroom.
“Tonight,” he continued, “I’m proud to announce my daughter’s engagement.”
The room erupted into applause.
I couldn’t move.
My father smiled down at me like a man presenting a trophy he already owned.
And suddenly I understood something terrifying.
This had been planned for a long time.
The text message.
The meeting upstairs.
The debt.
The marriage.
I placed the tray onto a passing waiter’s arms and turned toward the nearest hallway before anyone could stop me.
I heard Vivian call my name behind me, but I kept walking faster.
Then faster.
My heels clicked hard against marble floors as I rushed through the corridor toward the private elevators leading underground.
My breathing turned uneven.
The engagement announcement continued behind me while guests applauded downstairs.
Nobody even noticed the bride leaving.
The elevator doors opened slowly.
Too slowly.
Come on.
Come on.
I stepped inside and pressed the parking level button repeatedly.
The second the doors closed, panic finally hit me completely.
My hands started shaking.
Marriage.
To who?
That voice upstairs echoed inside my head again.
“And if she refuses?”
I leaned against the mirrored elevator wall and closed my eyes.
Something about that voice disturbed me.
Not loud.
Not emotional.
Controlled.
Men like that were always the most dangerous.
The elevator opened underground into the private parking garage.
Cold air hit my skin immediately.
The garage was nearly empty except for rows of black luxury cars and security lights reflecting against wet concrete.
I slipped off my heels and started running.
My dress tangled around my legs as I hurried toward the exit gate leading outside.
Then I heard voices behind me.
“Find her.”
Security.
My father’s men.
Panic surged through me harder now.
I ran faster, barefoot against freezing concrete.
Rain poured outside near the garage entrance, heavy enough to blur the city lights beyond the gates.
Then I saw it.
A black motorcycle waiting near the shadows.
The rider sat completely still.
Watching me.
Every instinct in my body screamed at me to stop moving.
Helmet on.
Black leather jacket.
Tattooed fingers resting calmly against the handlebars.
Danger.
Real danger.
I stumbled backward slightly.
The rider tilted his head toward me.
“You’re late,” he said.
That voice.
My heartbeat stopped.
The man from upstairs.
I turned to run the other direction, but security guards suddenly appeared at the garage entrance behind me.
Three of them.
Armed.
One spotted me instantly. “Miss De Luca!”
The biker slowly stood from the motorcycle.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Calm in a way that made everyone else look nervous.
The guards approached quickly before suddenly slowing down.
One of them cursed under his breath.
Another lowered his weapon immediately.
“Sir,” the oldest guard said carefully, “we didn’t know she belonged to you.”
Belonged to him?
My stomach twisted.
The biker looked at me for a long moment before finally removing his helmet.
And God help me, he was worse than I imagined.
Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. A faint scar near his mouth. Tattoos crawling up his throat like shadows under his skin.
Beautiful in the kind of way storms were beautiful.
The kind that destroyed things.
He stepped closer.
I should have moved away.
I didn’t.
His gaze dropped briefly to my bare feet.
Only then did I notice the blood.
I must have cut myself while running.
Without saying anything, he pulled a clean black cloth from his jacket and handed it to me.
Such a small gesture.
But somehow that scared me more than the guns.
Because monsters weren’t supposed to notice when people were bleeding.
“You should leave,” one guard said nervously to me. “Your father is looking for you.”
The biker’s eyes never left mine.
“Your father’s lying to you about a lot of things,” he said quietly.
“What things?”
Before he could answer, headlights suddenly flooded the garage.
Black SUVs roared through the entrance one after another.
More armed men climbed out immediately.
Not security.
Something worse.
The biker cursed under his breath.
Then he looked directly at me.
“Get on the bike,” he said.
My pulse thundered.
“What?”
“If you want to live,” he said coldly, “get on the damn bike.”
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