Sold for a Million Dollars

"Please, don't do this."

Lorrie Elmundo’s voice trembled as she stood in the middle of their suffocatingly tiny living room. Outside, rain battered the windows in a relentless, rhythmic assault, while inside, the sharp, sterile smell of cheap medicine lingered heavily in the air.

On the worn-out sofa, her mother coughed weakly, a sound so fragile it tore at Lorrie’s heart. She was too exhausted to speak, her pale eyes wide with a mixture of terror and defeat. Beside her sat thirteen-year-old Leo, his knuckles white as he clutched his school bag against his chest like a shield.

And standing before them all was the man responsible for their misery. Her father, Carlos Elmundo.

A gambler. A liar. A man who had spent the last ten years chasing phantom luck while his family drowned in the very real debt he accumulated. Today, he couldn't even bring himself to meet his daughter's eyes.

"They'll kill me, Lorrie," Carlos whispered, his voice cracking with a coward’s desperation. "If I don't give them what they want, they'll kill all of us."

Lorrie’s jaw tightened, her hands curling into tight fists at her sides to stop the shaking. "How much?"

Carlos swallowed hard, the sound loud in the cramped room. "One million dollars."

An oppressive silence fell over the room. For a brief second, even the roar of the rain outside seemed to stop.

*One million dollars.* Not one thousand. Not ten thousand. One million. It was an abstract, impossible number money they would never earn in ten lifetimes.

"You sold Mama's jewelry," Lorrie said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, icy whisper as the betrayal washed over her. "You mortgaged the house. You emptied my savings. What else is left to take?"

Carlos looked away, unable to answer.

From the sofa, her mother's voice cracked. "Enough... please..."

But Lorrie wasn't done. The anger burning in her chest was the only thing keeping her upright. She had worked two jobs since graduating college, sacrificing every shred of her youth. Morning shifts at a café, night shifts at a bookstore—every single penny had gone toward hospital bills and keeping a roof over their heads. Every sacrifice had been for this family. And yet, none of it mattered. Because with a single roll of the dice, her father had gambled away their lives.

Suddenly, a loud knock echoed through the house.

*Thud.*

Once.

*Thud.*

Twice.

Then a third time. Slow. Deliberate. Threatening.

Leo whimpered, scrambling off the sofa and running to Lorrie's side. "D-Do you think it's them?"

Nobody answered. Carlos's face turned a sickly, translucent pale.

Another knock rattled the frame, this time louder. Before anyone could move, the wood splintered.

***BOOM!***

The front door swung open, admitting a gust of freezing rain and three men dressed in pristine black suits. They stepped inside, tall, expressionless, and radiating danger. The living room instantly felt half its size.

The man in the front, clearly the leader, calmly adjusted his leather gloves. His eyes swept over the room, dismissing Carlos entirely before settling on Lorrie.

"Mr. Carlos Elmundo," the man announced, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Our boss wishes to see your daughter."

Lorrie’s heartbeat quickened, a drumbeat of panic in her ears. But looking at her trembling brother and her frail mother, a fierce protectiveness took over. She stepped forward, shielding Leo behind her.

"Who is your boss?" she demanded, forcing her voice to remain steady.

The man didn't answer verbally. Instead, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a heavy black envelope. It was pressed with a silver wax emblem a crown wrapped intricately around the letter *D*.

He extended his hand, offering it to her.

Lorrie hesitated, then took it. Her fingers pricked with dread as she broke the seal and pulled out the thick card inside. There were no long explanations. No legal jargon. Only four words were written across the center in elegant, sweeping calligraphy:

*Lorenzo Dimitri wants a wife.*

And beneath it, typed in a stark, cold font:

*You have twenty-four hours to decide.*