CHAPTER 1
1145 Words
AMANDA’S POV
The ceiling wasn’t mine. Pale, cracked, buzzing with a cheap, flickering light I didn’t recognize.
Something itched at my neck—sheets bunched around me, damp and twisted like I’d wrestled through sleep and lost.
My head pounded. Not just a headache—worse. My brain was wrapped in fog, heavy, muffled. I couldn’t pull the night into focus.
My skin felt wrong. My cheeks stiff, as if I’d cried and forgotten about it. My mouth was dry, with a bitter taste at the back of my throat.
I shifted. Pain throbbed between my legs.
I looked down. Bruises bloomed along my wrists like something had held me too tightly.
The dress lay near the edge of the bed—inside out, one strap torn.
I didn’t move. Just stared.
And then it hit me—slow, suffocating.
Where am I? What happened last night?
A noise.
The groan of a door, hinges creaking.
Steam spilled into the room, curling along the ceiling. Warm, damp air clung to my skin.
I froze. My heartbeat thundered, breath caught in my throat.
A man stepped out. He didn’t look surprised. Didn’t flinch like I did.
Dark curls clung to his forehead. His chest still wet from the shower. A towel hung low at his hips, as if it didn’t matter if it slipped.
His eyes met mine—calm, unreadable, dangerous in their blankness.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even blink.
I didn’t know him. And somehow, that made it worse.
I tried to speak, but my throat burned. “Who… who are you? Where’s Correy?”
No answer.
He crossed the room, opened a drawer, pulled out a wad of cash, and tossed it on the bed like I was something he’d paid for and was finished with.
“Take it. Get out,” he said.
Just that. Nothing more.
Like I was disposable.
My lips parted, but nothing came. The words tangled somewhere between panic and shame.
What is happening? Was this a mistake? Was this my fault?
Linda.
Her name slammed into me.
The way she smiled when she handed me that drink. “It’s your birthday, Amanda. Let’s stop fighting.”
I believed her. Like a fool.
I sat up slowly. Every inch of me ached.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Just… don’t tell anyone. Please. I can’t let Correy find out.”
Something flickered across his face. Anger? Pity? I couldn’t tell.
“Why did you—” he started, but stopped.
I didn’t wait.
I grabbed my dress, didn’t care about the torn strap. Shoved my feet into my heels, not even checking if they matched.
I didn’t breathe until I was outside.
The taxi barely stopped before I jumped out. My legs felt like paper. My skin crawled.
I reached the house, hand trembling against the doorknob. Cold. Too cold.
Inside, everything looked the same. Too clean. Too quiet.
And then I saw him.
My father. Standing by the window, a glass of scotch gripped in his hand. Not drinking. Just holding it like it kept him standing.
He didn’t look at me. Not yet.
But Linda did.
Perched on the sofa’s arm, pale-faced, wide-eyed… until her lips curled.
“Well, here comes the slut of all time.”
Her voice sliced through the silence.
I froze. My bag slipped from my shoulder, thudding against the floor.
I looked at her properly. Smug. Triumphant. Like this was her victory, not mine.
Then Georgina turned.
The way she looked at me—like I’d dragged filth into her perfect house.
“You’ve got some nerve showing your face,” she snapped.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came.
My eyes darted to my father. His face was stone. He already knew. Linda had told him.
“Dad—” My voice cracked. “It’s not what you think. I was waiting for Correy and—”
The slap came out of nowhere.
Georgina’s hand across my face, sharp and stinging.
I staggered, a hot outline burning on my cheek. Tears filled my eyes—not from pain, but the shock.
She didn’t even blink.
“How dare you speak?” she hissed. “After what you’ve done?”
“You’re a disgrace,” she spat. “As the eldest daughter, you should have some shame. Instead, you’re out there spreading your legs like—”
“Enough!” I snapped. My voice cracked but I didn’t care.
Georgina recoiled like I’d struck her.
Finally, my father turned.
He didn’t look angry. That would’ve been easier. He just looked… tired.
“This house can no longer bear your presence,” he said, calm as if reading a line rehearsed too many times. “You’ve stained this family enough.”
I shook my head. “No. You don’t understand—Linda drugged me, she—”
“She’s lying,” Linda cut in sweetly. “Daddy, you know she always twists things.”
“Shut up!” My fists clenched. “You planned this. You wanted to ruin me.”
No one spoke.
My father set the glass down. His shoulders sagged, and for a moment, he looked older than I’d ever seen him.
“You think this is only about last night?” His voice was low, heavy. “You’ve been dragging this family down for months. The whispers, the shame, the debts piling at my door. I can’t keep paying for your mistakes.”
“Debts?” My voice shook. “I’ve done nothing—”
“You’ve done enough,” he cut me off. “Investors are pulling out. Partners don’t want to be associated with a house tainted by scandal. I’m already drowning, Amanda. And then this—” he gestured toward me, disgust flashing in his eyes—“this humiliation. Do you know how many calls I’ve received today? Do you know what they’re saying about you? About me?”
I opened my mouth, but the words tangled.
“I didn’t—”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, voice final. “Perception is stronger than truth. And perception says you’ve ruined us.”
My stomach twisted.
He cleared his throat.
“I’ve made a decision,” he said. His tone carried the weight of a verdict. “You’ll be sold to a private auction. Someone else will take responsibility for you. And the money will help settle our debts.”
The words didn’t make sense at first.
Sold?
Like I wasn’t even human anymore?
The room spun. My breath hitched, shallow and broken.
“You can’t—” I started, voice trembling. “You can’t mean—”
But the look in his eyes told me he did.
Cold. Final.
And in that silence, in that verdict, I realized my father hadn’t just turned his back on me.
He was selling me.
- Writer
