Chapter 1
1274 Words
“You can’t be serious.”
My voice cracked, sharp as broken glass, but my father didn’t flinch.
He just sat there—hunched at the kitchen table like he’d aged ten years overnight, the overhead bulb flickering above his bowed head.
I waited.
Silence.
A bitter laugh caught in my throat. “Tell me you didn’t.”
Still nothing. No denial. No fight. Just guilt, clinging to his shoulders like a second skin.
“Who?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Who did you sell me to?”
His jaw tightened. His eyes never left the table.
“Leona… he paid the full debt. Ten million.”
Ten. Million.
I blinked, as if the number might make more sense if I gave it time. It didn’t.
“You sold me to a devil in a suit?” I whispered.
The air rushed from my lungs. I couldn’t feel my hands anymore.
“He said you’d be safe,” my father mumbled.
“Said he wouldn’t hurt you. That you’d be taken care of.”
I laughed, but the sound came out wrong. “Taken care of? Like a pet? Or a possession?”
He finally looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, face carved in shame and exhaustion.
“It was the only way. They would’ve killed us, Leona. I begged him. I begged.”
I shook my head slowly. “So you gave him me instead.”
The envelope on the table was already open. I didn’t need to read the contract inside to know what it said.
My fate had been printed, signed, and sealed.
Sold.
~
They came for me at midnight.
Two men in black suits. Faces blank. Hands gloved. Silent as shadows as they escorted me out of the apartment I’d spent twenty-two years in.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t run.
What would be the point?
This wasn’t a kidnapping.
It was a transaction.
They led me to a sleek black car with windows so dark they looked like ink. No words. No explanations. Just movement.
We stopped at a marble gate, guarded by a man in a black coat with a gun on his hip.
I didn’t ask questions.
They wouldn’t have answered them anyway.
Inside was a hallway—mirrored, endless, sterile.
We walked through it until it opened into something else entirely.
An underground theater. Velvet seats. Tiered rows.
And a stage.
It was dimly lit, but I felt the weight of my eyes the moment I stepped forward. Dozens of them. Watching. Measuring.
They led me into a glass box at the center of the stage.
Trapped like an exhibit.
The door hissed shut behind me.
A spotlight hit. Then another.
The auctioneer’s voice echoed across the room.
“Lot Seventeen. Age twenty-two. Untouched. Multilingual. Clean medical record. Submissive potential… untested.”
My stomach turned. My fingers clenched.
Submissive potential?
I was going to be sick.
But I didn’t cry.
I lifted my chin and stared into the darkness, daring them to look back.
The bidding began.
One million.
Two.
Four.
Six.
The numbers rose like heat, climbing with every pause. A murmur swept through the crowd.
I didn’t hear all the bids. My ears were ringing. Blood rushed into my head.
Then—
“Ten million.”
The voice was low. Calm.
It didn’t shout—it didn’t need to.
It silenced the room like thunder.
Even the auctioneer paused.
“Ten million, going once… going twice…”
The gavel struck.
“Sold.”
~
The door opened again, and I stepped out.
He was already there.
Tall. Imposing. No mask.
He didn’t need one.
Dominic Moretti.
Everyone knew the name.
Billionaire tech tycoon by day.
Ruthless mafia don by night.
And now… my buyer.
He didn’t speak. Just stood there in his black suit, perfectly still, watching me like a puzzle he was deciding whether to solve—or break.
I stared right back.
If he wanted fear, he’d have to earn it.
Something flickered in his eyes. He turned and walked away.
I followed.
What choice do I have?
~
The car was a luxury wrapped in steel—dark leather, a quiet engine, reinforced doors.
I sank into the seat across from him, the space between us thick with silence.
He didn’t look at me. Not at first.
He just rested his hand on the seat beside him, the glint of a ring catching the dim light.
A lion’s head. Gold.
His voice came without warning.
“Do you know why I bought you?”
I didn’t look at him. “Because you’re rich and bored?”
A pause.
Then, “Because you looked at me like you weren’t afraid.”
I glanced at him, eyebrows lifting.
“Everyone else flinched. You stared like you wanted to kill me.”
“Maybe I do.”
He smiled. Or at least, he tried to.
“Good.”
~
The elevator ride to his penthouse was silent.
He stood behind me, his presence heavy and consuming.
My heart thudded louder with each passing floor.
When the doors opened, I stepped onto the ice.
Not literal—but close.
Everything was sleek and sterile. Glass. Metal. Marble.
A fortress built on silence and shadows.
“This is your home now,” he said, not bothering to show me around.
You’ll have everything you need. Clothes. Food. Books.
But not freedom. Not yet.”
I turned to him slowly. “And how long will I be your prisoner?”
He moved toward me, slowly, like a lion, deciding if his prey was worth the energy.
“You’re not a prisoner,” he said.
“Not a prisoner?” I folded my arms. “Then can I leave?”
He was close now. Too close.
His scent was expensive—dark woods, leather, and something dangerous.
“No,” he whispered.
I refused to look away. “Then what am I?”
He leaned in, voice low, brushing against my ear.
“Mine.”
~
I barely slept that night.
The bed was too soft. The silence was too loud. The air was too cold.
I laid there for hours, eyes on the ceiling, thoughts racing.
What did he want from me?
What kind of man pays ten million for a stranger?
The answer haunted me.
Everything.
~
I woke up to movement.
At first, I thought it was a dream—shadows curling in the corners of the room.
But then I felt it.
Him.
He was standing at the foot of my bed.
Dominic.
Watching me with eyes that didn’t blink.
I sat up slowly, heart in my throat. “Do you always lurk in the dark?”
He didn’t smile.
“I wanted to see if you’d run.”
“And if I did?”
“I’d find you.”
I believed him.
We stared at each other in the dark.
“You don’t sleep much,” I said.
“I don’t trust the dark,” he replied.
The honesty surprised me.
He stepped closer. My breath hitched.
“What do you want from me?” I asked.
His answer came without hesitation.
“Everything.”
I swallowed hard. “You don’t even know me.”
His eyes burned into mine.
“But I will.”
~
He turned and left, the door closing behind him with a soft click that sounded louder than it should’ve.
I exhaled shakily.
And I knew, right then, that this wasn’t going to be simple.
Or survivable.
This man isn’t just cruel.
He’s chaos dressed in a three-piece suit.
And I’d just been sold to him.
- Writer
