Billionaire's Regret: Chasing His Irresistible Substitute Wife

(Emma’s POV) It was the auction for my virginity. I stood trembling on the auction platform, my arms wrapped tightly around my body in a futile attempt to cover myself. The revealing bikini they'd forced me into left little to the imagination. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly helpless. "Stand up straight! Arms at your sides!" barked the female handler behind me, jabbing my ribs. I reluctantly dropped my arms, tears threatening to spill over. The room around me was dark, save for the harsh spotlight trained on my shaking form. I couldn't see beyond the platform, but I knew they were out there - nameless, faceless bidders hidden behind one-way glass. "Ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer announced, his voice smooth and practiced. "Lot number seventeen. Eighteen years old, untouched, and as you can see, quite exquisite." He circled around me, pointing out my features as if I were a car for sale. My cheeks burned with humiliation. "We'll start the bidding at $30,000." A red light flashed in one of the rooms. "Room 3 bids $30,000!" Another light flashed. "Room 6 bids $40,000!" "$50,000 from Room 3!" announced the auctioneer, his voice rising with excitement. I flinched at the amount. That was more than six months of my salary at the coffee shop. The thought made me nauseous. "$75,000 from Room 5!" "$100,000 from Room 2!" I closed my eyes, trying to block out the reality of what was happening. How had my life come to this? "$150,000 from Room 8!" A bitter smile twisted my lips. Two years of backbreaking work wouldn't earn me this much. Was this really what I was worth to the world? A single night with my body? The realization hit me like a physical blow. My own parents had sold me to this place. The people who should have protected me, nurtured me, loved me - they had thrown me to the wolves without a second thought. The handler behind me whispered, "You're lucky tonight. Room 8 never bids on newcomers." Lucky? I wanted to laugh. Being auctioned off like cattle was the opposite of lucky. My mind drifted back to earlier this evening, replaying the nightmare that had led me here. I had dragged myself home after another grueling day of work, my body aching and my spirit crushed. I could hear my parents arguing through the thin door before I even put my key in the lock. They fell silent the moment I entered. My mother was waiting by the door, hand outstretched. "Well? Hand it over." I dutifully placed my day's wages in her palm, just as I had done since I was fourteen. Her eyes narrowed as she counted the money, once, twice. "This is it? This pathetic amount is all you earned today?" She slapped me hard across the face, the sting making my eyes water. "I was told the coffee shop paid extra for the additional cleaning you did today!" They had, but the manager had also deducted for a vase I'd accidentally knocked over. I wouldn't dare explain that. "Answer me!" my mother screamed, grabbing my hair. "They—they cut my pay because I broke something," I whispered. She slapped me again, harder this time. "Useless! Completely useless! Even as a waitress, you're incompetent!" I didn't react. I'd learned long ago that showing pain only invited more. "You useless girl! At this rate, when will we ever be able to buy a house for your brother?" she spat, waving the money in my face. "Ryan needs a proper home before he graduates next month! Do you know what kind of impression it makes when he brings his friends to this dump?" I remained silent, my cheek throbbing. This ritual was familiar—the disappointment, the accusations, the reminder that my only value was in what I could provide for Ryan. Since childhood, I had been taught that my purpose was to support my brother. My school prizes, my scholarship to design school—none of it mattered. Only Ryan's future counted. My mother raised her hand again, seeing my silence as defiance. "Don't you dare look at me like that!" But before she could strike, my father grabbed her wrist. "Enough, Marie." For a brief moment, hope flickered in my chest. But his next words crushed it instantly. "Her face is already swollen," he warned, his voice cold. "She won't fetch a good price like this." A chill ran through me. "Price? What do you mean?" My parents exchanged glances. My mother's face twisted into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Well, since you're so useless and can't earn enough money," she said slowly, savoring each word, "and your brother is about to graduate and urgently needs a house in a good neighborhood, we've found a better way for you to contribute." The realization crashed over me like ice water. "No," I whispered, taking a step back, bumping into the door I'd just entered through. "You can't possibly mean—" "We're auctioning off your first night," my father stated bluntly, crossing his arms. "The agency says you'll fetch a good price. Young, pretty, untouched." My mouth went dry. "You're selling me?" "Don't be so dramatic," my mother scoffed. "It's just one night. After that, you can go back to your useless job. But with the money you'll earn tonight, Ryan can finally have the home he deserves." I shook my head frantically, tears spilling down my cheeks. "Please, don't do this. I'll work harder, I'll take on more jobs—" "You've been saying that for years!" my mother shouted. "And what do we have to show for it? Nothing! Your brother deserves better!" "But I'm your daughter," I whispered, a final desperate plea. The slap from my mother silenced me. "After raising you for twenty-two years, putting a roof over your head, food in your mouth, it's time you repaid us properly. Ryan deserves a good start in life." "You've never been grateful for what we've done for you," my father added. "We took you in when no one wanted you, and this is how you repay us?" Terror surged through me. They'd never said that before—that they "took me in." Were they not my real parents? Before I could process this new information, survival instincts kicked in. I turned to run, but my father's foot caught me in the back, sending me sprawling onto the floor. The wind knocked out of me, I lay there gasping as my mother pulled out her phone. "Yes, she's ready," she said into the receiver. "Come get her now. We need the money tonight." I tried to crawl away, but my father planted his foot on my back, pinning me down. "Please," I begged, my voice breaking. "Don't do this." "It's already done," my mother said coolly. "The auction house paid us a deposit yesterday. They're coming to collect you now." Twenty minutes later, two men in suits arrived. They barely spoke as they dragged me away, ignoring my tears and pleas. The last thing I saw was Ryan stepping out of his bedroom, smirking as he asked our parents if they'd finally get him that gaming console he wanted. "$200,000 from Room 7!" The auctioneer's voice snapped me back to my humiliating present.The bids kept climbing, each one making the auctioneer's smile widen further. "$300,000 from Room 8!" "$350,000 from Room 4!" "$400,000 from Room 7!" The back-and-forth continued, my price soaring higher with each bid. I hugged myself tighter, willing myself to disappear, to wake up from this nightmare. "$500,000 from Room 8!" A hush fell over the room. The auctioneer waited, his excitement palpable in the silence. He looked expectantly toward Room 7. After several tense seconds, he grinned. "Going once... going twice... sold to Room 8 for $500,000—the highest price of the night!" The auctioneer's voice rang with triumph, but my heart sank. I knew what this meant. The higher the price, the more would be expected of me. The more degrading my night would be. "Congratulations," the handler whispered to me, not sounding congratulatory at all. "That's a record for this month. The client from Room 8 must really want you." Two staff members came to escort me off the platform. My legs trembled so badly I could barely walk. They led me down a corridor lined with numbered doors until we stopped at Room 8. "Prepare yourself," one of them warned before knocking on the door. As the door opened, I braced myself to face some wealthy older man with cruel eyes. Instead, I found myself staring at... myself? No, not quite. The woman before me looked remarkably like me—the same dark hair, similar delicate features—but her eyes held a coldness that sent shivers down my spine. She wore an expensive designer dress that probably cost more than I made in months. "This is her?" she asked the handlers, examining me like I was a piece of furniture. "Yes, Ms. Bennett. As requested." "Follow me," she commanded, turning without waiting for a response. Too stunned to disobey, I trailed behind her down the hallway and into an elevator. Neither of us spoke as we rode up to the top floor. She led me to a hotel room door, stopping to fish a key card from her purse. "Listen carefully," she said, her voice low and threatening. "You will go in, sleep with the man inside, and leave immediately afterward. Do you understand?" I nodded, unable to form words. "If he asks questions, you say nothing about me or how you got here. You're there for one purpose only." Her fingers suddenly dug into my arm, pinching so hard I gasped in pain. "You're getting off easy," she hissed, her face inches from mine. "Remember that." With those words, she swiped the key card and pushed me toward the door.