SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER

Taken Away

The moment the gavel hit the block and the echo of “sold” faded, I felt as if the room had tilted beneath my feet. The crowd’s murmurs and gasps blended into a dull roar, but around me, everything seemed to slow, every heartbeat stretched painfully, every breath deliberate.

My legs shook so badly I barely noticed the hands of two attendants guiding me gently off the stage, their touch firm but not unkind, as if they were steering me into a world I had no choice but to enter.

“Right this way, miss,” one of them said, his voice is calm, professional and leaving no room for questions. I swallowed hard, my throat dries, as my eyes flicked toward the back of the room, toward the man whose presence had dominated the auction.

He had not moved, not a muscle betrayed his emotions, but his gaze had never wavered. And now, as the attendants led me away, I felt the weight of it following me like a shadow I could not escape, pressing against my skin with an invisible force that made my pulse spike.

I wanted to look back, to catch one last glimpse of him, but something stopped me, a warning I didn’t understand. I had no idea who he was, and yet a strange, terrifying certainty told me that I could not, under any circumstances, meet his eyes again.

The corridor was narrow and dimly lit, a stark contrast to the grand hall filled with laughter, whispered speculation, and the clatter of expensive heels. I could hear my own breathing, quick and shallow, as if the air itself had grown heavier, almost suffocating. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Twenty million. That number burned in my head, a sum so vast I couldn’t fathom it. And yet, I was meant to be his. Me, a stranger.

“Miss?” one of the attendants prompted gently. “Please, just follow us. There’s nothing to fear. We asure you he is a good man.”

A good man. I hope so.

I nodded, though my throat was tight and allowed myself to be led through the twisting halls, my eyes glued to the floor, my thoughts spinning. Each step echoed in the silence, each turn bringing me closer to a fate I hadn’t chosen, and each second made the reality more impossible to deny.

Finally, we arrived at a large, sleek elevator with mirrored walls. The attendants stepped aside. “The penthouse,” one said simply. “Mr. De Luca will meet you there.”

My stomach dropped. My legs felt weak. The name alone made me pause, but I didn’t dare ask questions. Instead, I swallowed my fear and nodded, stepping into the elevator as it glided smoothly upward. The doors slid shut, sealing me in a small, reflective world where my face stared back at me, pale and wide-eyed, my chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

The ascent seemed endless. I gripped the railing, knuckles white, my mind replaying the auction again and again, the bids, the crowd, the man’s gaze, and the finality of the gavel. Twenty million. I am now his. The words repeated like a mantra, unrelenting, terrifying.

When the doors finally opened, a warm light spilled out, casting long shadows across the polished floor. The attendants gestured for me to step forward, and I obeyed, my steps hesitant and careful, as though the slightest misstep would shatter everything.

And then, before I could gather my thoughts, I saw him.

He was standing in the center of the room, tall, impeccably dressed, his posture relaxed yet commanding, and his eyes, those piercing, unyielding eyes found me immediately. I froze. My chest tightened, my heart threatened to leap from my ribcage, and every instinct in my body screamed at me to run, even as my legs refused to obey.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. He simply watched, and in that moment, I understood that this was not a man who wasted words, or who acted without purpose. Every movement, every glance, every breath seemed deliberate, measured, and I realized, too late that I was already trapped in his world.

“Miss Ferrer,” a low, calm voice finally broke the silence, smooth and controlled, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Welcome. You are now under my responsibility.”

Responsibility. The word reverberated through me. And in that single measured tone, I felt the weight of everything I had been dragged into, the unspoken power of a man who could with a single decision, change the course of my life forever.

I wanted to speak. I wanted to ask questions. But the truth was, I didn’t even know where to begin. All I could do was nod, trembling, as the enormity of my new reality pressed down on me.

And even as I forced myself to breathe, to steady my shaking hands, I couldn’t shake the thought that had taken root in my mind the moment he had first looked at me in the auction hall:

Who is he, and why me?

Then his eyes narrowed slightly, scanning me from head to toe with a precision that sent a shiver down my spine, and his voice, calm yet edged with something I couldn’t place, danger? amusement? cut through the quiet like a knife.

“I hope you’re prepared, Miss Ferrer… because from this moment on, your life is no longer your own. You'll be Bianca De Luca from now on.”