Sold To An Icy Billionaire

Brenda's POV "Truly, I'm cursed," I thought, my head bowed as I sat on the cold, bleak floor. The icy surface seemed to bite into my skin, a cruel reminder of my isolation. "Why else would everything and everyone be against me?" Suddenly, the floor flung open violently that it jolted me upright. The masked man shoved a cold sandwich and cheese into the dark room. "Hey, girl . Eat," he barked, tossing the meal unto the filthy floor. Quickly, he retreated out of the room like he was being chased by something unseen. I turned away gaze from the dim light flittering through the tinted window to the unappetizing mess on the floor. For three days, I have been fed the same thing -cold, tasteless crap. At first, I vowed never to eat them, my pride refusing to bow to their cruelty but anger was a relentless battle and my growling stomach eventually won the battle. Grimacing, I grabbed the sandwich and began to chew, each bite tasted like defeat. The room was suffocating, it's tiny window offering no comfort, no escape. I tried to not to think about how long I'd be trapped here or whatever plan my captors has for me. But as I swallowed another bite, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor. My heart pounded. It had been three days since my life took a drastic turn. Three days since that black SUV came to a halt beside me as I walked home from work. I had barely registered the sound of hurried footsteps behind me when two men dressed in black suits and masks closed in. Terror surged in me as I tried to run, to escape but they were faster. Their hands, rough and unrelenting tightened down on my arms. I screamed and kicked, desperate to break free, but I was overpowered easily. "Let me go!" I cried, but my voice was overshadowed by the loud growl of the car engine. Before I could comprehend the scene unfolding before me, a cloth, drenched in a annoyingly sweet scent, was pressed over my mouth. My struggles grew weaker, and darkness swallowed me. Then I woke up here—in this godforsaken room with its tiny window barely letting any light in. The atmosphere was heavy with the stench of damp walls, and the shadows seemed to mock my powerlessness. I’d asked them, cajoled them, to fill me in on the reason why I'm here. But instead, their silence was as cold and unyielding as the floor beneath me. Now, as I sat in the corner, the echoes of soft footsteps in the corridor broke through my thoughts. My heart raced. Whoever it was, they were coming for me. The figure in the doorway hesitated only briefly before stepping inside. The dim light barely illuminated his face, but his commanding presence filled the room like a dark cloud. My instincts screamed that this was the man responsible for my a*******n. He didn't stop at the door. He. Advanced with calculated steps, bending down in front of me. His hands shot out, gripping my jaw roughly, forcing me to meet his gaze. Then I saw him clearly. My breath seized. “Father?” I whispered, my voice trembling as I searched his face for any hint of familiarity. He threw his head back and let out a laugh so cold and menacing that it sent chills down my spine. "Yes, it's your father. Was there anyone else you are expecting? Are you disappointed it was me?" His tone turned sharp, his eyes blazing with disgust. "Tell me!" His grip tighten, pain shooting through my jaw. I grimaced, unable to speak. He held me there, his fingers digging into my skin, before finally releasing me with a shove. I rubbed my aching jaw, steady my breathing. “I haven't brought you here to starve you to death," he said, his voice laced with mockery. "No, I am not that heartless. Instead, I'm selling you off to someone who is important and feared. Do you want to meet him?” He leaned forward, his grin widening as if daring me to answer. I clenched my fists, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I won't marry anyone," I said, my voice dripping with defiance. "You kicked me out of your house years ago, and now you're here to sell me off? Why do you hate me so much, father?” Tears slide down my cheeks, hot and unrelenting. My father's hatred for me ran deeper than I could comprehend. Francisco, my father blamed me for the death of his beloved wife. She had passed when I was just four years old. That day, I had begged to go on a trip with my mother, but on our way back, tragedy struck. We got into an accident, and I was the only one who survived. From that moment, I became the painful, unwanted reminder of her loss. I was the child she tried to please with her last breath, and for that, I became cursed in his eyes. Growing up, I could feel the contempt radiating off him and his family. It was in the cold, dismissive stares, the harsh words and the way they treated me like I didn't belong. I was ignored. I was despised. And all because I had dared to survive when she hadn't. But was it truly my fault? Maybe I should have just died instead of her? His expression hardened. "You think you have a choice?" He sneered. "My decisions are final. It doesn't matter if it suits you or not. Get up and follow me. You are getting married. And I hope you don't survive this new phase of life.” His words hit me like a blow to the gut, but I refused to crumble, to let him see the fear that gripped me. As he turned to leave I grabbed a knife from the nearby tray, holding it tightly. When he stared back at me, his eyes widened with disbelief. "Don't come closer," I warned, putting the blade to my skin. He smirked, unimpressed. "What did you think you're doing? You're too stupid to follow through. Besides if you hurt yourself, you'll only make things worse. Now, stop this nonsense and do as you're told." Without another word, he walked out of the room, leaving the door ajar. For a moment, I stood frozen, the knife trembling in my hand. But as the reality of my situation sank in, I knew I couldn't do it. I dropped the knife and followed him out. Outside, the hard sunlight stung my eyes, and I blinked against it's glare. Three black SUV's idled in the driveway, surrounded hefty sized men in masks. My. Father stood near, his dominating presence making my skin crawl. He montioned me to get in, and I complied slipping into the backseat. He slid in beside me, his presence heavy and oppressive. The drive felt like eternity, moments filled with dread. When we finally arrived, I recognized the mansion. It was the same home I'd been exiled from years ago, a place that held bitter memories. It has never felt like home at any point. I swallowed hard as the car rolled to a stop. Whatever awaited me inside, I knew one thing: I wouldn't surrender, not without a fight.