All Chapters of Switched at the Mafia Auction: Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

~ Avelyn ~I woke up to voices. A man and a woman speaking in hushed tones just a few feet away.“She’s from a good lineage. Prestigious, they said. Elvan family. CEO’s daughter.”“Elvan’s illegitimate daughter,” the woman corrected, tapping something on a clipboard. “She’s here to pay off a debt, not for prestige. But look at her platinum hair, delicate build… I doubt they fed her but she’ll sell well.”Sell.I forced my eyes open. My surroundings blurred, but slowly sharpened into white lights, lace drapes, mirrors lined with bulbs, girls fixing their makeup or giggling as if tonight wasn’t a parade of chains wrapped in glitter. Workers brushed hair, strapped heels, pinned gauzy fabric in place.And me?I was already dressed when I looked down on myself. A flowing sky-blue chiffon draped over my body in delicate layers, almost translucent. It shimmered under the lights like water. But it didn’t hide anything. My thighs, my chest, my arms were bare. Framed in gold cuffs, neck rings,

“Need a hand escaping?”The voice slid into the room like a blade dipped in silk.I froze, half-hanging out the damn window, my hand clinging to the edge of a metal beam, my heart thundering like a war drum.No.No. That voice wasn’t real.Still, I turned my head slowly, dread coiling through my chest like barbed wire.He was there! Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. Watching me.I didn’t know this man.Was he the one who bought me?He didn’t look like a monster. No, that would’ve been easier. Monsters wear fangs, scars. This one wore sin like a suit.He was tall, unnervingly calm, dressed in black button-down shirt fitted to a body carved by violence, sleeves rolled to the elbow like he didn’t mind getting blood on his cuffs. Shadows clung to him, even in the light. His jaw was sharp, lips neutral, but it was the eyes that locked me in place. They were dark, intelligent and cold like eyes that had watched people die and didn’t blink.“Going somewhere?” he asked, like he w

Breakfast was already waiting when I came out. A spread meant for royalty, and yet it sat untouched, mocking me with its elegance. Croissants, glazed strawberries, jasmine tea steeping in white-gold china. It should’ve felt like luxury. It felt like a funeral.I ate slowly, forcing every bite past a lump in my throat. The maids moved around me like I wasn’t there. Not a single glance. Not a word.It was only when one of them returned to clear the table that I gathered the courage to ask, “Is this all for me?”She paused, like she hadn’t expected me to speak. Then she nodded.“Master’s orders.”Master.The word crawled down my spine like a chill. I nodded, but the name clung to my skin like a bruise. For some reason anytime I heard it my brain assumed I was the slave. For a master to exist there has to be a slave, or isn’t that right?After breakfast, I roamed.The penthouse was quiet, way too quiet. With no signs of footsteps or voices. Just the distant hum of the city I was no longer