Chapter 2

"Yeah. The others pooled their money and left. Now it's just Charlotte and me. Why don't you divorce him and come with us?" one of the mistresses asked.

I shook my head and refused. Instead, I handed them their indenture papers and told them to leave while they still could.

Julian's eyes went red with fury. He raised his hand to slap me. "You bitch! Who gave you the right to let them go?"

I kicked him straight between the legs.

"Don't forget that I was the one who paid to free them. Whether they came here because they needed money for their families or because they had nowhere else to go, I paid for it. Since when did they become yours? They're mine."

"Get her out of here! Make sure they teach her a lesson! Better yet, send her somewhere she'll really suffer," Julian screamed as he reeled in pain.

One of the debt collectors walked over to me. I smiled. "Are you really asking for 120,000 dollars for me? You're getting ripped off, honey."

"What's wrong? Having second thoughts?" Julian said, smirking. "Beg me now, and maybe someday, after I pass my exams and make something of myself, I'll come see you."

"Just look at me. I'm nobody special. You'll get 100,000 dollars for me at most. But he's different."

I pointed at him. "He's handsome, educated, and he still has a spotless reputation. Put him on stage, and the wealthy women will fight over him. One night could bring in more than his entire debt. If you want to get your money back, sell the one who's worth the most."

"You want him to be the star? Are you out of your mind? Do you really think a nerd is going to make money doing that?" the debt collector scoffed.

Julian's face turned red. He glared at me, scrambled to his feet, and swung at me again. "You're disgusting, Wynter! I'm a respectable man. You can't humiliate me like this!"

I stepped aside. He stumbled forward and crashed straight into the corner of a table, cracking his forehead on it. Blood trickled down his face.

"God, you're pathetic. You're the one who tried to sell me to a brothel. I'm only returning the favor."

I turned back to the debt collectors. "Tell me, what kind of respectable man can't pay his debts or support his own household, then sells his wife to survive? I'll take responsibility for the debt. Give me three days, and I'll pay you back every cent. In return, Julian is mine."

The debt collectors' eyes lit up. They immediately started drawing up the contract.

Julian fought back desperately. "I'm not signing that! You can't force someone into a contract. Wynter doesn't have that kind of money. She'll be the one going to the brothel in three days!"

I looked at his furious face and smiled. It was the first genuine smile I'd given in three years.

"Don't worry, I won't end up in a brothel—you will. You'll be the one getting paid to entertain women and work off my debt."

We signed the contract, sealing the deal. Julian glared at me with pure hatred.

"Listen to your wife, Mr. Chapman. I'll see you on the stage in three days."

The debt collector's last remark sent him over the edge. He started smashing whatever he could get his hands on.

"I'm warning you, Wynter. If you don't have the money in three days, you'll be the one going to that brothel!"

I barely glanced at him. "Relax. Three days is plenty of time. I'll teach you how to earn your keep. That pretty face of yours is the only thing you've got going for you, after all."

"If that's all I've got, then why did a respectable woman from a good family marry me?" he said bitterly.

I was from a good family. That much was true.

But I had also once been a lost child who ended up in a brothel. Avaline Murray took me in and raised me.

She taught me how to read people, get inside their heads, and understand exactly what made them tick. She also taught me how to handle men and run the business.

I was supposed to take over the brothel when I turned 18. I would've had the money, the connections, and the freedom to live however I pleased.

However, when I was 15, my biological parents found me.

They were high-ranking officials from a respectable family. They couldn't accept that their long-lost daughter had been raised in a brothel.

They erased my past as quickly as they could. They buried everything I learned there and made sure no one would ever know what I was taught.

They forced me to dress modestly, follow their rules, and behave like an obedient girl.

Wanting to give me a respectable life, they arranged for me to marry poor but educated men from the countryside.

I chose Julian.

I did it partly because marrying him would help bury my past, and partly because I liked the way he looked.

I didn't want to argue with Julian, so I simply told him that he would be doing the housework from now on.

Julian's eyes widened. "You're insane! A man is supposed to provide for his family! I'm not doing a woman's work!"

"Why not? Where was your pride when you were drowning in debt?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Where was your dignity when you tried to sell your wife to pay it off?"

Julian's face turned bright red. He couldn't get a word out for a while.

When he finally did, he spat, "I'm not doing it."

"Then go hungry. I'm not supporting someone who refuses to work. If you're so proud of your principles, you can starve with them."

We had a long standoff. Eventually, hunger and the cold wore him down, and he finally picked up the broom.

He sent dust flying as he swept, chopped wood until his hands were raw, burned his hand while boiling water, and scorched the bottom of the pan when he tried to cook.

By noon, the once-pristine young man was filthy and completely disheveled.