CHAPTER 005

Nyssa’s POV:

With every breath I drew, the atmosphere in the inner chamber grew increasingly oppressive. A soft murmur of voices flowed through the space like a subtle current, whispers tracing my skin like countless tiny insects. I remained frozen on the podium, standing tall and expressionless, though internally, I was falling apart.

The bids rose relentlessly, each figure cutting deeper into me than the one before.

“Sixty million!” a voice roared from the rear.

A ripple passed through the crowd; murmurs surged like waves.

‘What does she have that none of the others do?’ A woman’s voice questioned from behind.

‘They’re all just fighting over her. Ugh, I already hate her,’ came another reply.

A painful twist gripped my stomach. My ears pounded so loudly that I could hardly make out the sounds around me.

Then—

“Eighty million.”

The voice was steady, exact, slicing through the clamor like a razor. Silence descended upon the arena. It wasn’t surprise but pure, profound terror.

The audience shifted uneasily. I caught a faint gasp. A whisper behind me called him, "The devil himself."

‘I thought he didn't come.’

‘Me too.’

‘She’s got him now. I doubt she’ll last a week with him.’

‘That’s generous—I’d bet on three days.’

The devil? And once more, he had claimed me.

The auctioneer’s gavel crashed down with the weight of a judge’s verdict: “Sold for $80 million!”

The sound reverberated sharply in my head. My heart thudded agonizingly in my chest.

I was immobilized; my legs felt empty, my arms numb. As a handler released me with a gentle touch, my body moved forward as if drawn toward my own doom.

In the front row, he waited—half his face shrouded in darkness, the harsh outline of his jaw and a fierce glint in his eyes stark against the shadow.

He remained eerily still, as if composed of shadow itself; his men lingered nearby but kept their distance, as though proximity might burn them.

I fixed my gaze on him as I neared, my heart pounding wildly against my ribs like a creature trapped.

Up close, he was immense—larger than I had imagined. The sharpness of his form, his ruthless stillness, the cold, calculating aura radiating from him like ice—all bore down on me, suffocating.

I had no idea whether to walk beside him, trail behind, or kneel before him. So I simply followed, head lowered, breath trembling.

Behind us, the chamber heavy doors slammed shut with a final loud thud.

Outside, the night air cut sharply against my burning skin, cold and biting. I longed to breathe it deeply, yet my throat felt constricted.

 My dress clung to me like a second skin, while beneath my feet, the ground seemed to tilt unsettlingly.

Fixating on his back, I forced my legs forward, a step by cautious step.

Suddenly—

My foot caught in a crack on the pavement.

Before I could regain balance, I stumbled into him, my hands instinctively reaching out to steady myself. The tips of my fingers grazed the firm fabric of his coat. For a fleeting moment, I made contact.

Time seemed to freeze.

He drew in a sharp breath—a piercing sound that shattered the silence like wildfire.

Fear overtook me instantly; my eyes widened in horror.

"I—I’m sorry—" I whispered hurriedly, panic flooding my voice.

He remained silent and motionless, yet the atmosphere around him grew ominous, charged with a dangerous stillness.

A primal instinct screamed within me: Run. Escape now. Yet my body remained rooted, immobile.

Then, in an instant—

His hand shot out.

Fingers coiled tightly around my throat with an unyielding grip. So swift was his movement that I barely caught sight of it. One moment, I stood there; the next, I was slammed against the cold, rough wall, breathing forcibly knocked from my lungs.

Panic exploded inside me like wildfire as I struggled for air.

His grip constricted further. My breathing became ragged, painfully cut off.

Desperately, I clawed at his wrist, nails scraping skin, but he showed no sign of yielding. His hold was relentless, his towering presence unwavering.

Behind the black mask, his eyes were hidden, yet I felt their gaze piercing into me, scrutinizing every struggle.

His silence was more terrifying than any scream.

I faintly heard the shuffling of his men nearby. They had witnessed my touch and his response but remained motionless and silent, as though accustomed to such events and unwilling to intervene.

The other bidders stood watching, none daring to approach. The women who placed wagers on how long I would survive were all mistaken. It wasn’t three days, nor seven—it didn’t even reach four hours.

Death could come for me at any moment. Is this how my story ends? Betrayed by my own mother and slain by a stranger? What cruel fate is this?

My lungs burned. Black dots danced at the edges of my vision. Hot tears burned my eyes. His hands applied pressure around my neck, choking me.

I tried to speak—to apologize again—but nothing came out except a strangled gasp. His hands were too tight on my throat.

My legs kicked weakly. My fingers scratched at his grip, desperate, useless. He is solid and un-moveable.

Terror ripped through me like a blade. He’s going to kill me. This is the end I had always dread about. He had bought me for eight million dollars just to strangle me to death.

I thrashed harder, the edges of the world closing in, darkness creeping like ink spilled across a page. I could barely see the outline of his mask anymore.

My body felt weightless, distant, like I was slipping out of myself.

And then— He leaned in. His breath was ice against my ear.

"How dare you touch me!" His words were low, almost gentle—but it's hard, audacious, and threatening.

The last thing I saw before everything went black was the cold, empty void behind his mask.

And then— Darkness.