All Chapters of THE BIDDING ROOM: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

They say the most beautiful things in the world are untouchable. The stars, the moon, the innocence of a child, the last breath before a storm. Evelyn was all of those things. Yet, she was none of those things at the same time. She was not meant for this world, she did not belong here. She was too innocent and too tender for this beast called earth. She was like a candle placed in the middle of a battlefield. Her existence felt like a mistake, a divine creature that had slipped through the cracks and landed among monsters. You could see it in her eyes, wide, pale and impossibly green, like new leaves trembling in early spring. Eyes that didn’t know how to lie, eyes that begged for mercy even when her lips stayed quiet. Still, no one looked away. She had everyone’s attention fixed on her, unknowingly. The last thing she wanted was to be the center of attraction. The night they sold her, the sky outside the Bidding Room was as black as spilled ink. Thunder rumbled low in the distance

She dreamed in pieces. It didn’t come in stories or memories.It was more like deadly echoes.Sunlight through lace curtains. Dust floating in golden beams. Her mother’s voice - soft, tired, humming some song Evelyn had never known the name of. A kitchen that always smelled like vanilla and burnt toast. The floorboards creaked in the same spots they always had. The kettle screamed every morning at 7:02.The world was small. Gentle. Predictable.Evelyn used to braid her hair in front of the mirror, not because it needed it, but because it gave her something to do with her hands. She loved lavender soap. She hated thunderstorms. She whispered secrets to the cat who slept by her window and believed the moon listened when she cried.She had dreams, once. Small ones.The kind that never seemed important until they were gone. Like buying her mother a new coat. Like planting a garden. Like reading every book in the little library by the hill. None of them included being sold.She remembered t

Lucien Saint-Croix didn’t believe in chaos.Every empire he had built, every secret he’d buried, every soul he’d bought - it was all done with exquisite precision. His world was a symphony of control, and he was its conductor.Which made her all the more dangerous.Evelyn. No.Kali.He rolled the name across his tongue as he poured a glass of whiskey, standing alone in the study, the morning light bleeding pale through the windows.Kali.It suited her better. Softer in some ways, but sharper, too. Like beauty carved from something already burned. A phoenix without wings. A girl too pure to survive the world he lived in - and exactly the kind of delicate thing he wanted to crush beneath his thumb.He didn’t want her because she was beautiful.He wanted her because everyone else did.Because when she walked into the auction room, trembling in blue silk, with that untouched look in her eyes, the world had stilled. Grown men forgot how to breathe. The arms dealer had salivated. The media

The silence after Damian left wasn’t peace — it was a warning.Evelyn stood still in the center of the room for what felt like hours. Her thoughts ran in circles, looping over his refusal, over the invisible staff that moved through the walls like ghosts. She could feel them. Watching. Measuring.When the knock came, it wasn’t loud. Just one, deliberate tap on the door.She flinched.It creaked open.A woman stood there; she emerged from the hallway in a muted grey dress, her hair tightly pulled back into a severe bun. She didn’t speak. She simply stepped aside, one hand raised, beckoning.Evelyn stared.Her throat tightened. Something about the woman’s silence was… wrong, as if her presence wasn’t voluntary, as if she had been instructed not just to escort — but to deliver.“Where are we going?” Evelyn asked cautiously.The woman didn’t answer.Of course not.Evelyn hesitated, but she knew she wouldn’t be left alone again — not truly. Staying was not safe. She stepped past the thresh

Evelyn sensed him before she heard the door. A change in the air — colder, sharper — like the room itself inhaled and held its breath. She turned, and Lucien was already closing the door behind him with that quiet, deliberate finality that made her stomach drop.He didn’t knock. He never did.“You skipped dinner,” he said, voice low and controlled. No emotion. Just a fact — as if he had personally watched her not eat.“I wasn’t hungry,” she replied, keeping her tone steady.A lie. Obviously.Lucien stepped toward her, slow enough to register as a threat. His presence filled the room like smoke, creeping into every corner, refusing to be ignored. Evelyn’s pulse kicked up despite her attempts to cage it.“You’re lying,” he murmured, stopping close enough that she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. He smelled of cold night air, whiskey, and something darker — something inherently male and dangerous. “Your stomach was growling halfway down the hall.”Her lips almost twitched. Anno