THE AUCTION

Bianca POV

The room smelled of polished wood and expensive perfume, a heady mix that made my stomach twist with nerves I hadn’t felt in years, and as I stepped onto the stage, every eye in the room seemed to weigh me down, assessing me, measuring me, deciding my worth with a glance that made my chest tighten and my pulse thunder in my ears. The low hum of conversation, the rustle of papers and the sharp clink of glasses, all created a background noise that felt almost like a warning, a reminder that this was a place where hesitation could cost more than dignity, it could cost everything.

They started with another girl, her face pale, hands trembling as she was led forward, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I watched the auctioneer’s practiced chant begin.

“Twenty Thousand dollars, going once…”

The gavel hit the block, sharp, definitive, echoing like a gunshot through the room.

“Going twice…”

I held my breath as the bids rose, each number feeling heavier than the last, each increment stripping something from the girl until finally, the gavel fell and she was gone, taken by someone whose wealth was so vast that I could only imagine the life she was being dragged into. The emptiness she left behind on the stage clung to me like a cold shadow, a warning of what was coming.

Then it was my turn. My name was called, amplified by the microphone so everyone could hear, every syllable a proclamation that I was now the object of this merciless spectacle. I stepped forward, legs trembling, throat dry, forcing my eyes to stay fixed on the floor beneath me on the stage itself, on anything except the crowd that surrounded me like predators circling their prey.

The auctioneer’s voice rose again, smooth, relentless, almost hypnotic.

“Fifty Thousand dollars, going once…”

As the bids began to climb, small at first, hesitant, then growing faster and higher, I could feel my chest tighten, my stomach knot, my hands curl into fists as the weight of so many eyes pressed down on me.

"One Million."

I forced myself to breathe, to take it one second at a time, to keep my back straight even as my knees threatened to buckle.

And then I noticed him.

A man, sitting back in the crowd, calm yet impossible to ignore, eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made the air around me feel heavier. He didn’t raise a paddle, didn’t murmur to anyone beside him, didn’t even make a sound, yet somehow, his gaze alone made my pulse spike and my skin prickle, as if the room had narrowed to just the two of us. His presence was quiet but commanding, sharp, assessing, and I couldn’t stop myself from feeling the weight of it, though I didn’t know why, though I didn’t know who he was.

For a long moment, he simply watched, unblinking, and the silence between us stretched so taut it was almost painful. Then without a warning, when the auctioneer’s chant continued and the crowd murmured in anticipation, his voice finally cut through with absolute authority, startling everyone into stillness.

“Twenty million.”

Whispers spread like wildfire.

“Wh—who is that?” someone murmured.

“From the back! Did you see him? He’s not even raising his hand, just… watching. That's a lot of money! I can't believe the most dangerous man in the underworld is interested to her.”

I felt my legs threaten to give way beneath me, my stomach twisting into knots, my chest heaving with panic, disbelief, and a strange, unidentifiable thrill. I didn’t know him, I didn’t recognize his face or his power, and yet the meaning was impossible to miss, I was no longer simply another name on the list. I was the one he had chosen.

The auctioneer’s eyes flicked toward the man in question, voice steady but incredulous.

“Two million… five… ten… fifteen…twenty....” he counted, almost as if testing the room, almost as if daring someone to challenge him. The murmurs grew louder, some anxious, some excited, some downright shocked, and I could feel the tension tighten around my body like a vice.

Finally, the auctioneer’s tone shifted, a mixture of awe and finality as he raised the microphone higher.

“Twenty million… from Mr. De Luca.”

The room went silent. Every eye turned to the man in the back, whose gaze remained fixed on me as if I were the only thing in the room that mattered. A few gasps escaped, some whispered exclamations of disbelief.

“Is this for real? Twenty million?” a voice hissed from the crowd.

“He-he just bought her!” someone else exclaimed, incredulous.

I froze, my heart thundering so loudly it was all I could hear, my entire body trembling with a mixture of fear, shock, and something else I couldn’t quite name, as the man’s eyes never left me, calm, unwavering, as if the entire auction, the entire room, existed only for him, and only for me.

And in that instant, everything changed. The stage beneath my feet, the crowd’s murmurs, the auctioneer’s stunned voice, they all became background noise to the realization that someone, someone impossibly powerful, was watching me with a gaze that promised nothing, and yet suggested everything.

The auctioneer raised the microphone, his voice sharp, controlled, and commanding echoing through the grand hall with a precision that left no room for doubt.

“Twenty million dollars, bid by Mr. De Luca. Do I hear any higher bid?… No? Then it is confirmed. Sold! Twenty million dollars, from Mr. De Luca. The transaction is complete, and that is officially secured. Mr. De Luca, the responsibility of this acquisition is now yours.”