Bought as the Billionaire's Mistress

A blindfold covered my eyes as I was led into Finch Manor, my heart hammering with pure terror. I knew why I was here. The Finch family had acquired me through discreet channels to serve as a secret mistress to their patriarch, CEO Victor Finch. The requirements were specific: youth, beauty, higher education, and above all, innocence—no prior romantic experience whatsoever. Virginity was non-negotiable. Victor, the wealthy young head of the Finch Group, was a man shrouded in dark rumors. Publicly, he was a business titan. Privately, whispers spoke of cruelty and a taste for destroying young women. Periodically, a new girl would be secretly delivered to the manor. Most were returned the same night, vanishing without a trace afterwards. A few foolishly believed love could redeem him. They, too, disappeared completely. Thus, Finch Manor earned its reputation: a place more terrifying than hell, with Victor as its soul-collecting demon. The most recent rejected girl had been carried out horizontally. Her grave was still fresh. Yet, here I was, stepping into the lion's den. My mother's hospital bills demanded payment, leaving me no choice but to take this desperate gamble. What awaited me inside was a terrifying unknown. Seven girls had entered before me, who had all been carried out. I had expected to face this alone, but upon removing my blindfold in the assigned room, I found myself among a lineup of ten other young women. Each was stunningly beautiful. We were all "special selections." A collective flinch passed through the group as the steward, Arthur Sterling, entered. I instinctively retreated further into my corner. Arthur gave a signal. A stern-faced doctor with glasses followed him in, leading the girls one by one into the adjoining room before closing the door firmly behind them. As I was waiting outside, my hands began to tremble. Horrific stories swirled in my mind—eccentric billionaires who sought youth through transfusions of young blood, men with sadistic appetites who enjoyed breaking the innocent, or those who followed archaic practices, believing the vitality of a pure young woman could rejuvenate their own. The room beyond the door was eerily silent. No one emerged. It was as if they had all vanished into thin air. 'What is happening in there? Will anyone who enters ever leave alive?' My panic climbed until Arthur's footsteps halted before me. "Lillian Lockhart, you're next." Clenching my fists, I followed him into the room. Inside, the doctor was discarding a pair of disposable gloves. He faced me without expression. "Remove your clothes." "Pardon?" I asked. My disbelief earned an impatient frown. "How can I examine you otherwise?" A basic physical had been conducted during the selection process. My eyes darted to Arthur as I sought clarification, but he stood impassive, as if this were the most routine request. Swallowing my shame, tears stinging my eyes, I undressed completely. The doctor's clinical hands began their assessment, moving from my hair and facial features down to my chest, waist, and lower body. After a thorough inspection, he gave a curt, emotionless nod. "Lie on the examination table." Hugging my arms over my chest, I obeyed, lying bare on the cold surface. The doctor donned fresh gloves, parted my legs, and began his intrusive examination. The unfamiliar, violating touch made my body stiffen. An involuntary sound escaped my lips as a strange sensation washed over me, my legs tightening reflexively. Dampness spread on the sheet beneath me, and my face flushed crimson. The doctor paused, his hand stilling. After a moment, he withdrew. "A rare specimen. Truly exceptional. One in a hundred years," he said.