The Auction Block

"You will marry him, Marlowe. End of discussion."

The fork in my hand stopped halfway to my mouth. I looked across the long mahogany table at my father. He didn't even look up from his steak. He just kept cutting it into little pieces like he hadn't just dropped a bomb on my life.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"You heard me." Everett Whitmore finally lifted his eyes. Cold. Empty. The same look he gave when he talked about stocks or business deals. "The Bellandi family has made an offer. We're accepting it."

I set my fork down. The clink of silver against fine china echoed through the dining room. My mother, Lenora, sat to my right. She was staring at her plate like it held the secrets to the universe. My younger brother, Nolan, was frozen mid-chew, his eyes bouncing between me and our father.

"Dad," Nolan started, "you can't be serious—"

"I'm always serious about business, Nolan." Everett wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. "Marlowe knows this."

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. "Let me get this straight. You're selling me. Like a piece of property. To a mafia family."

"Don't be dramatic."

"Dramatic?" I laughed. It was a hollow, angry sound. "You just said I'm getting married to some crime lord. That's not a business deal. That's human trafficking."

Everett's jaw tightened. I saw the flash of anger in his eyes. Good. At least I got a reaction.

"The Whitmore family is in debt," he said slowly, like he was explaining something simple to a child. "Deep debt. The kind that doesn't go away with a few budget cuts. The Bellandi family has offered to clear everything. In exchange, you marry their Don."

I stood up. My chair scraped against the marble floor. "No."

"Sit down."

"No." I planted my hands on the table and leaned forward. "I'm not some bargaining chip you can use to save your precious company. I'm your daughter. Does that mean anything to you?"

Everett stood up too. He was taller than me, wider. For a moment, I saw the man who used to scare me when I was a kid. The one who yelled until I cried. But I wasn't a kid anymore.

"You will marry him," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Or I will make sure your mother and brother pay the price."

My blood went cold.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me." He adjusted his cufflinks. "The Bellandi family doesn't forgive broken deals. If we back out now, they'll come for everything. The house. The cars. The accounts. And they won't be gentle about it."

I looked at my mother. "Mom. Say something."

Lenora didn't look up. She just kept staring at her plate. Her hands were shaking slightly, but she didn't say a word.

"Mom!"

"Marlowe, please," she whispered. "Just... just do what your father says."

I felt like I'd been slapped. My own mother. She was just going to let this happen.

Nolan pushed his chair back and stood up. "This is insane. You can't do this to her."

"Stay out of it, Nolan," Everett snapped.

"No! She's my sister!" Nolan's voice cracked. He was only twenty-one. Still young. Still hopeful that the world could be fair. "You can't just sell her off to some criminal!"

Everett walked around the table and got in Nolan's face. "You want to help? Then keep your mouth shut and let the adults handle this."

I grabbed Nolan's arm before he could do something stupid. He was shaking with anger. I pulled him back.

"Nolan," I said quietly. "It's okay. Let me handle this."

"But—"

"Please."

He looked at me. His eyes were wet. He was trying not to cry. I gave him a small nod. I need you to trust me, I tried to say with my eyes. I need you to be okay.

Nolan sat back down. He didn't eat. Neither did I.

I turned back to my father. "Who is he?"

"Who is who?"

"The man you're selling me to. What's his name?"

Everett hesitated. Just for a second. But I caught it.

"That's not important right now."

"The hell it isn't. I'm supposed to marry him. I think I deserve to know his name."

"You'll meet him when the time comes."

"Dad—"

"Drop it, Marlowe." He walked back to his seat and sat down. Picked up his fork. Continued eating like nothing had happened. "The wedding will be announced in a few days. You'll have a dress fitting tomorrow. I've already arranged for the designer to come to the house."

My hands were shaking. Not from fear. From rage.

"You're not even going to tell me his name," I said. "You're just going to hand me over to a stranger."

"He's not a stranger. He's a powerful associate. That's all you need to know for now."

"A powerful associate." I laughed again. Bitter. Cold. "What is he, a businessman? A politician? Or is he going to make me wear cement shoes and dump me in the river?"

"Marlowe." My mother finally looked up. Her voice was sharp. "That's enough."

"Oh, now you have something to say?" I turned on her. "You've been sitting there like a statue this whole time. You're just as bad as he is."

Her face crumpled. For a moment, I felt guilty. But only for a moment.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know this is hard. But... but sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do. For the family."

"For the family?" I shook my head. "You keep saying that like it means something. But it doesn't. Not anymore."

I pushed my chair back again. This time, I didn't sit down.

"Where are you going?" Everett demanded.

"Away from you."

"You have forty-eight hours," he called after me as I walked toward the door. "After that, if you try to run, I'll make sure Nolan pays for it."

I stopped. My hand was on the doorframe. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

I turned around. My father was looking at me with those cold, dead eyes. He wasn't bluffing. He would hurt Nolan. He would hurt my mother. He would do whatever it took to get what he wanted.

I felt something break inside me. Not my spirit. Not yet. But something.

"This isn't over," I said.

"It is for now." He went back to his steak.

I left the dining room. I didn't slam the door. I didn't scream. I walked up the stairs to my bedroom, my heels clicking against the marble floor, and I closed the door behind me. Then I locked it.

For a long moment, I just stood there. My back against the door. My eyes closed. Breathing in and out. In and out.

Then I moved.

I walked to my closet and pushed aside the rack of designer dresses. Behind them, hidden in the wall, was a small safe. I punched in the code. It clicked open. Inside was a burner laptop. Something I'd bought months ago. Just in case.

I sat on the floor and opened it. The screen lit up. I pulled up a flight booking website and stared at it.

"Forty-eight hours," I whispered to myself. "You have forty-eight hours to disappear."

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I could book a flight. I could pack a bag. I could run to another country. Start over. Leave all of this behind.

But then I thought of Nolan. Of my mother. Of the way my father had looked at me when he said he'd make them pay.

I closed my eyes.

"You have forty-eight hours," I said again. But this time, it didn't sound like a plan. It sounded like a countdown.

I needed to think. I needed a plan. I needed to find out who this man was. This man my father was selling me to.

Because if I was going to run, I needed to know what I was running from.

And if I was going to stay, I needed to know what I was fighting.

I opened a new tab and started typing. The name my father had let slip. The only clue I had.

Bellandi.

I hit search.

And I started reading.

The clock on my nightstand ticked. Forty-seven hours and fifty-nine minutes.

The countdown had begun.

And with every second that passed, I could feel the walls of my life closing in. My father's voice echoing in my head. My mother's silence. Nolan's terrified eyes.

I would figure this out.

I had to.

Because if I didn't, I was going to end up married to a monster.

And I had no intention of being anyone's sacrifice.