My Father Sold Me

“Let me go!”

Sarah’s screamed out loud as two guards seized her arms, one on each side. Their hands were rough and unyielding, fingers digging into her flesh as if she were a criminal instead of a daughter being dragged through her own home.

“Let me go!” she shouted again, twisting violently, her hair slipping loose from its tie and falling into her eyes.

They did not loosen their grip. If anything, they tightened it.

Her heels scraped harshly against the polished marble floor as they dragged her backward. The sound echoed—long, ugly, helpless. The familiar walls of the Vance family sitting room blurred as she was hauled toward the center, her breath coming out in short, burning gasps.

Then she saw him.

Her father.

He stood up from his seat, his tall frame stiff with fury, his face dark and sharp as carved stone. He stepped forward until he was directly in front of her, blocking her path like a wall she could never climb over.

His eyes burned into hers.

“You good-for-nothing daughter,” he spat. “I raised you all these years, fed you, clothed you, gave you everything—and this is how you repay me? By being useless?”

The word hit harder than the guards’ grip.

Useless?

Sarah’s breath came in short gasps. Veins pulsed at her temples, and her eyes burned in indistinguishable flame that couldn't be quenched.

Her own father.

Her biological father.

The man who was supposed to protect her.

Who was now forcing her into this.

Her vision blurred red as she struggled again, her entire body trembling with rage. “I’m not useless!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “I’m not!”

Arthur Vance took another step closer, looming over her. “Enough!” he thundered.

Sarah laughed—short, broken, almost hysterical. The sound surprised even her.

“Dad,” she cried, her voice raw now, stripped bare. “How can you say that? I’ve done everything you asked me to do. Everything! I stayed up nights designing jewelry for the company. Designs that brought in millions. I gave you my work—my ideas—without profit, without credit, without my name ever being mentioned!”

Her throat tightened painfully. “I did it because you said we were family.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and trembling.

Arthur Vance’s face twisted—not with guilt, not with shame, but with pure irritation.

He lifted his right hand and slapped her.

Sarah’s head snapped to the side. The taste of iron filled her mouth instantly, sharp and bitter. If the guards hadn’t been holding her, she would have collapsed to the floor. Her knees buckled anyway, pain exploding across her cheek, stars bursting behind her eyes.

The room fell silent for half a second.

“You shameless girl,” her father roared. “And so what? I am still your father! You will listen to me whether you like it or not!”

Sarah’s breath came out in shallow, broken pulls. Her cheek burned as tears pressed hard behind her eyes—but none fell.

She refused to cry.

That apartment.

The small apartment she lived in now—the only thing she had ever been given in exchange for all her sacrifice—was being taken from her. And not just that.

They were selling her.

Selling her to a man old enough to be her grandfather.

How ridiculous. How disgusting.

How cruel.

Sarah slowly lifted her head and stared at her father. Her eyes were dark, blazing, feral.

“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I’m shameless.”

Her father stiffened.

“But you,” she continued, her voice rising with each word, “used my designs shamelessly. And now you’re selling me shamelessly too.”

A sharp inhale went through the room.

Arthur Vance’s face turned purple with fury. His hand lifted again.

Before it could fall—

“Enough.”

The voice was calm and smooth.

It was Shawn Carter stepped forward.

He had been watching the entire scene with interest, his eyes roaming freely over Sarah’s restrained body as if she were merchandise. He raised a hand, catching Arthur Vance’s wrist mid-air.

“You shouldn’t hit her again,” Shawn said mildly. “It wouldn’t be pleasant if my wife-to-be showed up tomorrow with a swollen face.”

Wife.To. Be.

Sarah's stomach lurched violently. Disgust rose so fast she nearly gagged.

Arthur Vance froze, then immediately turned to Shawn with a stiff smile, his expression shifting immediately.

“Of course, Mr. Carter,” he said quickly. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

Sarah stared at them in horror.

His wife-to-be?

She sucked in a breath so sharp it hurt. “Never,” she screamed suddenly, her voice tearing through the room. “Never! Not in this life—not in the next!”

Her entire body strained against the guards, desperation lending her strength, but their grips held firm.

Her father shot her a warning glare, about to snap back at her—but Shawn didn’t even look at Sarah.

He smiled at her father instead.

A slow, satisfied smile.

“I’m very pleased,” Shawn said, turning his attention to Mr. Vance. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a document. “The collaboration contract. Let’s finalize things.”

Mr. Vance’s scowl vanished instantly.

He hadn’t expected that—not now.

His eyes lit up like a gambler staring at a winning hand. He took the papers with shaking eagerness, barely glancing at the contents before signing.

His pen scratched across the page. One signature. Then another till he was done signing.

“Thank you, Mr. Carter,” he said, grinning widely. “We’re going to be family now.”

Family.

Sarah’s heart shattered.

She felt dizzy, the room tilting dangerously. She struggled harder, panic clawing through her veins, but the guards only tightened their grip.

Shawn folded the signed contract neatly and placed it back into his case. He turned then—finally—to Sarah.

His eyes didn't meet her face; they traveled slowly down her throat to the curve of her waist, lingering there until she felt the urge to scrub her skin.

“Take good care of her,” he told Mr. Vance, his lips curling. “I’ll come for my bride tomorrow.”

“I will,” Her 'good father' replied instantly, almost cheerfully. “You can count on it.”

Shawn left without another word.

The door closed behind him with a dull, final thud.

The moment he was gone, Aurthur didn’t even spare Sarah a glance. She was no longer worth looking at.

He turned to the guards. “Take her to her room,” he ordered coldly. “Lock the door. Stay outside her room to gurad her. She’s not allowed to leave. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the guards answered in unison.

They dragged her away.

Sarah didn’t fight this time. She was numb, her limbs heavy, her heart sinking into something dark and bottomless.

The door to her room slammed shut behind her.

She slid down slowly until her back hit the door, her body folding in on itself. Her cheek still burned where her father had struck her. Her wrists ached from the guards’ grip.

She could hear the laughter erupting from the living room, the sound of the glasses clinking together.

They were celebrating.

Celebrating the fact that she had been sold.

Sarah pressed her palm over her mouth, her chest heaving—but still, no tears came.

How had it come to this?

How had her family turned into strangers—into monsters?

No.

She couldn’t remember the last time this house had felt warm. Her mother’s laughter used to live here. Now, only echoes remained.

She stared blankly at the room she had grown up in, the familiar furniture now feeling foreign. She had tried. God, she had tried so hard. She never made things difficult for her stepmother or Matilda when they moved in. She sought their love. Their approval.

She had worked after school, designing jewelry from home, believing she was helping the family business.

Believing she belonged.

Now she saw the truth.

She had never been part of this family.

She was just a bargaining chip. To be used, traded and discarded when of no use.

Even Matilda—whom she had treated like a real sister.

Even Jasper whom she thought she could spend forever with cheated on her with her own stepsister.

A hollow laugh escaped her throat.

Still no tears.

Instead, her mind began to work—fast, sharp, desperate.

Her father would never let her go. A man who could sell his own daughter for a contract would stop at nothing.

Even if she escaped… where would she go?

Then a face appeared in her mind.

Nathan.

His easy smile. His calm eyes. His ridiculous proposal from a few days ago.

At the time, she had laughed it off.

Who marries a stranger-turned-neighbor they slept with just once?

Her stomach twisted as another face intruded.

Shawn Carter’s oily smile and his greedy eyes.

The contrast made her shudder.

At that moment, Sarah made a decision.

She would marry.

But not the man her father chose.

She would destroy his plans.

She would choose her own freedom.

But was Nathan’s offer still there?

Or had it been just empty words?

Her fingers curled slowly into fists.

But the most important question is, how exactly would she leave this place?