The Auction

Valeria

I didn't sleep. I stayed up all night, digging through and calling old contacts,  messaging anyone who still had enough dignity to answer a phone. Most didn’t. But one had. my retired lease finance lawyer. He sent me the address.

That was how I found out that there was going to be an auction the following morning. Funny enough there were no press release about it. It seemed more like they wanted to bury me without a funeral.

I arrived at the building dripping with sweat. My shirt clunged to my back, while hair stuck to my forehead. I didn't bother with putting on makeup. My entire life was at stake so couldn't care less.

People gawked at me as I ran through the lobby. I heard the whispers as I ran.

“Is that her?”

“God, she looks terrible…”

“She must be desperate.”

I pushed past a woman with a clipboard and muscled my way into the auction hall. And that was when I saw them. My father, my mother and Lorenzo.

They were seated in the front row. My legs stumbled, but I forced my way ahead with my lips tight. My father was the first to raise his eyes. He didn’t look shocked, he looked annoyed.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said flatly.

“Why?” I hissed. “Because you are too shamed to face me?”

He stood and walked towards me with hard, cold eyes. “No. Because you’ve embarrassed us enough. This is a matter of law now. You have no say.”

I looked at him in awe and my heart beat out of control. “ Are you serious right now? You just placed everything that I made on that damn list and there’s nothing I get to say?”

“You made that with our money,” he said. “This family worked our ass for decades. We merely seized back what was ours.”

“You’re unbelievable,” I whispered.

“You’re the one who ruined yourself,”  my mother said, swooping in alongside him, her designer coat perfectly slunged across her shoulders. “You wanted control over everything. Now face the consequences.”

“You didn’t listen when we tried to talk to you,” she said. “You made your choices.”

“What advice? To hand over my passwords? My accounts? My company?” My voice was shaking. “That wasn’t advice. That was theft. And you laughed through them all.”

“You’re hysterical,” she waved her hand. “It’s always been your weakness.”

I laughed bitterly. “And you’ve always been heartless.”

Lorenzo walked up behind them. “Keep your voice down. You’re making a scene.”

He walked close, close enough so that nobody else would be able to hear. His breath tickled against my ear when he said, “You’re only a woman, Valeria. This is not a world that is designed for people like you to maintain power. You don’t want to have the family destroyed, do you?”

I stared at him, and saw nothing but decay. The brother I had once loved was dead. I raised my hand before I had even registered doing so — but I stopped it in time as dozens of eyes were watching.

I dropped my hand and let out a little, bitter laugh. “You know what, Lorenzo? One day, you’ll need me. And I will pretend not to recognize your name.”

He gave me a smugged smile. “No one will remember you by then.” I stepped back. I wanted to scream. I wanted to break something. But all I could do was stand there and shake. My chest heaved and my vision burned.

“I mean really,” murmured Lorenzo again, voice low and mocking. “The only reason you got where you are is because you spread your legs and got into investors’ pockets, isn’t it? This vineyard was not taken from you.” And that did it. I slapped him. The noise filled the room as the crowd gasped in awe.

Lorenzo didn’t move. He blinked at me, for a while before a cruel grin crept back on to his face. “You just confirmed everything everyone said,” he said.

The door creaked open behind me, and a man in a smart grey suit stepped up onto the central stage with a microphone in his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” called the auctioneer.  “We’re ready to begin.”

"Lot twelve… the vineyard equipment owned by Vino Luna. Starting at seventy thousand.”

The auctioneer’s voice boomed through the hall, clear and casual, the way he’d sell furniture. But he wasn’t. He was selling my life.

My fists were clenched on my lap as I sat there on the third row. My fingers dugged into my palms until they felt raw, but I did not let go. It was the only way I could prevent myself from not screaming.

“Eighty-five. Ninety. Ninety-five—sold for ninety-five thousand!” There was a smattering of applause. I didn’t move, didn’t clap. I only looked straight ahead, with my jaw tight.

“Lot thirteen… Wine cellar stock. Starting at fifty thousand.” They rolled crates of my wine — wines I had named, tasted, bottled with my own hands. My signature was still on the labels. My masters crest still stamped upon the corks.

“Sixty-five. Seventy. Seventy-five… sold!”

I heard my father chuckling quietly behind me. I craned my neck far enough to get a look at the grin on his face. His posture was relaxed. He even stretched across and whispered something to my mum.

He was happy. He had paid his debt. But what about me?

The woman who worked sixteen-hours a day? Who went hungry so they could invest in a better future harvest? Who took a forgotten vineyard and turned it into an award winning empire?

No one asked about me and no one cared. My office furniture was dragged up another lot; I watched, on screen. My desk. My chair. My custom gold plated pen set. Each item brought a new ache. They sold my car next. Then the DeLuca estate.

They were ripping everything away from me, bit by bits.

Now only two items remained, and the temperature in the room suddenly seem to change. I saw heads swiveling in chairs. A man who stood in the rear of the hall straightened his collar. Another lowered his paddle completely.

I frowned. Why had the room gone quiet? Then I heard the footsteps.

I looked up, facing the entrance with my head.

And there he was.

Dante Moretti.

Even his appearance was enough to send a ripple through the audience. He was tall, all dressed in black — no tie, just a white shirt open at the neck under the suit — and well turned out. His hair was dark, sleeked, immaculate. His gray colored eyes roved around the room like an animal claiming its domain.

Dante Moretti.

Even the name alone sent shivers to anyone who had any sense. He wasn’t just a billionaire. He was the man. The king of the underworld. The man behind the scenes who controlled half the city’s power.

No one had crossed him and ever lived to tell the tale. And now… he was here. People stiffened in their seats. Some lowered their heads. The confident bidders from earlier? They collapsed as if their power had been sucked out of them. He made his way to the center of the room slowly.

I frowned, confused.

What was he doing here?

I had no dealings with him. I had only heard rumors. He didn’t do public events, certainly not absurd small scale asset auctions.

The auctioneer coughed unsteadily, “Twenty-four… the last of their company shares for Vino Luna Holdings. Starting at one hundred thousand.”

A handful of people raised their paddles quietly.

“One-ten. One-twenty…”

I didn’t look at them. I kept my eyes on Dante. Why was he watching me?

“One-thirty-five. One-fifty…” And finally, the auctioneer geared up to ask for the last lot.

And that’s when his voice came. Deep and commanding. “Is she up for auction?” My breath hitched. I turned to him slowly, baffled and convinced I had heard him wrong.

But Dante didn’t smile. He didn’t joke. He was looking right at me. I stood up suddenly. “What did you just say?”

“Two hundred million dollars,” he said. My mouth opened, stunned. “What…?”

“Two hundred million!” someone in the audience whispered. “For her?”

“Is this legal?” My eyes flashed to the auctioneer.

Then… I heard it. “Sold!”

It wasn’t the voice from the auctioneer. It came from behind me. I knew that voice anywhere. It belonged to my father.

“Sold!” he repeated, this time louder, as if it were something to be proud of.

Mother clapped gently. “A miracle,” she said. “Everything’s paid now.”

Lorenzo stood, adjusting his cufflinks. “We didn’t expect such luck.”

I stepped back. “You… you agree to this?”

“You’re not a child,” Father snapped. “This is business. It’s a blessing somebody even wanted you.’ ”

“I’m your daughter!” I shouted.

I looked at my mothet and she smiled faintly. “It’s better this way.”

I turned to Lorenzo. “You—”

But he cut me off. “Don’t humiliate us even more.” I attempted to struggle, to talk, to scream — but I couldn’t. Before I knew it two men in black suits were standing next to me. They didn’t hurt me. But they didn’t ask for permission, either.

I just gazed at the front, a little stunned, as they pulled me toward the rear exit of the hall. I stole one last look at my family. My Father was shaking the auctioneer’s hand. Lorenzo was on the phone already, no doubt bragging.

And Mother…

She looked at me.

“Go,” she mouthed. “You are a good girl.”

Something inside me snapped as a slow smile twisted on my lips.

“Why be a good girl?” I whispered.