Billionaire Redemption

Chapter 17

Ayra’s POV

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The cold floor pressed against my cheek as I tried to lift my head. Pain shot through every muscle, every joint, and even the air I drew felt like it was scraping my insides.

My vision was blurred, my body trembling uncontrollably. I tried to open my eyes fully, but all I could make out were shadows and faint shapes moving above me.

Hushed voices came closer, deliberate and menacing. One of them I recognized immediately, my father’s. The others, unknown, but their steps were heavy, like predators circling prey.

A shiver ran down my spine as I realized just how alone I was. My hands touched the floor and discovered wetness—blood. My mind swirled. I’d been beaten, my body punished for things I didn’t even do, and now I wasn’t sure I’d live to see another hour.

“Seems my slutty daughter is awake,” my father sneered as he entered the room. My stomach twisted. I tried to explain, stammering that it wasn’t me, that it had been Marla, but a sharp slap landed across my face, knocking me back onto the floor.

Tears welled in my eyes, hot and unstoppable. My chest heaved with shallow breaths. Pain consumed me, but so did fear, fear deeper than I’d ever felt.

“You tend to shift all your wrongdoings to her,” he spat, his voice low and venomous. A sting cracked across my back. I screamed, curled in on myself, my entire body a map of bruises and burns from abuse. My pleas for mercy seemed to bounce harmlessly off the walls, swallowed by the dark room.

The two men with him spoke quietly, but their words cut deeper than the blows.

“She’ll fetch a good sum at the auction,” one said, like I wasn’t even a human being.

The words sank into my chest like knives. Auction? My blood ran cold. The thought of being treated as property, a commodity to be bought, was unbearable. Panic gripped me. I tried to move, tried to escape, but my limbs refused to obey. Every step of hope I had clung to—Leon, freedom—all felt impossibly far away.

Another strike landed on my side, knocking the air out of me. I whimpered, curling tighter, trying to make myself as small as possible, as if disappearing could save me. My eyes filled with tears, blinding me, and my mind reeled.

This is it. This is the end. No one will save me this time.

The two men laughed quietly among themselves, their amusement twisting the pit in my stomach into ice. They moved closer, and every movement they made felt like a countdown to something worse.

The room was spinning, my head pounding, and my body screamed in protest at even the smallest motion. The floor felt colder, harder, and more unyielding than ever, as though it wanted to hold me down, trap me forever.

I tried to stand, tried to gather strength, but the pain in my ribs,thighs, legs, and back forced me back down. My breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps. I wanted to cry out, to scream, to fight—but my voice betrayed me. Hope, that fragile thing I had clung to through everything, was slipping.

They whispered again about money, about selling me, about auctioning me off. I buried my face in my arms, sobbing quietly. My body shook violently, a mix of pain, exhaustion, and terror. For the first time, I truly believed I might die here. Alone. Helpless. Forgotten.

Somewhere deep inside, a small spark tried to fight, whispering survive… somehow… But it was faint, almost drowned out by the cacophony of my body’s pain and my father’s cruelty. I could feel it—the edge of life, the razor-thin line between being alive and ceasing to exist. Every second felt like an eternity.

And as the men stepped closer, as my father’s shadow loomed over me, that spark struggled to hold on, while my mind screamed the one thing I hadn’t allowed myself to say aloud.

Please… someone… save me.

The darkness swallowed me.

**

I woke up in a cramped, suffocating darkness, my body pressed uncomfortably against the cold metal of a car booth.

Every muscle screamed in protest—the ache from my back, legs, and arms was unbearable. I tried to move, but my hands were tied tightly in front of me. I brought them to my mouth and bit at the ropes, gnawing until the fibers gave way enough for me to loosen one hand.

Through the muffled walls of the booth, I heard laughter. Low, cruel, mocking laughter. My stomach turned over. I knew that laugh—it belonged to them. The men my father had sold me to.

Sold. My chest tightened, tears pricking at my eyes as my mind raced in disbelief. My body instinctively slammed against the booth walls, my fists pounding, futile and desperate.

The car jolted violently, throwing me against the walls again. My heart thudded violently, panic clawing at my chest. Then the door opened with a loud, metallic clang, and a man stood out, towering, angry, and sharp-eyed.

He glared at me like I was nothing more than a pest, muttering something under his breath before slamming the door behind him but I quickly used my leg as a hurdle to prevent the door from closing.

My body tensed as pain shot through my leg from the door; I bit back a scream and swallowed hard. The car lurched forward again, and I collapsed, shaking, onto the cold floor.

Moonlight spilled into the booth, highlighting the bruises spreading across my skin—purple, black, angry marks. Cuts had crusted with dried blood; my lips were split and raw. I felt sick.

I let out a trembling breath, whispering a silent prayer, my hand brushing against the wounds. My body sagged against the wall, the faintest smile breaking through my exhaustion.

I forced myself to move, hauling my body down and rolling out of the booth onto the rough road. The chill of the night bit into my skin, and my muscles screamed in protest as I watch the car drive into distance.

And before I could even rise properly, another pain tore through my abdomen—a sharp, stabbing wave. My monthly flow had started, and the cramps hit mercilessly. I doubled over, clutching my stomach as warm drops soaked my panties.

My mind spun. I don’t even know for how long I was trapped in my father’s hell, beaten, starved of sunlight, afraid to breathe too loudly, and now… sold.

The thought of missing Leon Kael audition gnawed at me and a tear slipped out of my eyes.

The thought made bile rise in my throat. My chest heaved as I forced myself to my feet, scanning the empty road ahead. My legs wobbled, bruised and raw.

Purple and red marks covered my arms and legs, my back a tapestry of pain,my abdomen sending a shockwave all through my body yet I kept walking. I had to. I couldn’t go back to that house, to him, to Marla’s cruel smirk.

I reached a fork in the road and hesitated, unsure which way led to safety. The left path seemed less traveled. My steps were heavy, uneven, each movement sending stabbing pain through my bruised body.

My mind replayed every horror of the past—the confinement, the beatings, the humiliation, my father’s threats. His words echoed relentlessly in my ears: *You came into this world to take, not to give.*

A river gleamed ahead in the moonlight. I didn’t even notice it at first, lost in my thoughts. My feet carried me forward mindlessly, toward danger I hadn’t even seen.

Then, the shrill sound of a car horn cut through the night. My heart jumped into my throat. Panic set in. A blinding light washed over me, freezing me in place.

Before I could react, a force slammed into me, sending me flying across the road. Pain exploded everywhere—my head slammed against a stone, yet again, my body skidded across the uneven ground, and warm liquid filled my mouth.

My vision blurred, my body trembling violently. Every breath hurt. Every inch of me screamed.

Everything spun. Pain and fear swallowed me whole. And then I saw someone running toward me, the last thing I registered before my eyes shut against the darkness enveloping me.