"Damian Carter!"
The name tore from my father's throat, sharp and strangled, right before the huge man's arm locked around his neck. My father thrashed and clawed at the hold, but Damian barely flinched. His grip was like steel, tightening with terrifying ease as my father gasped for air.
"Let him go!" my sister shrieked, her voice slicing through the room.
I turned toward her in disbelief. Panic was etched all over her face, tears shimmering in her wide eyes. She was terrified for him, terrified for him.
The sight of it made my chest ache. When had she ever screamed like that for me?
Damian tilted his head, turning slightly to regard her while never loosening his chokehold. His expression shifted, amusement curling at the corners of his lips.
"And if I don't?" His tone was low, mocking. "What will you do, little girl? Make me?"
Her lips trembled, but no words came out.
"No, no, no!" my father rasped, his voice breaking as he struggled against Damian's arm. "Please....leave her out of this! She's just a spoiled little girl, please!"
The words hit me harder than any blow ever had. He would beg for her. Plead. Protect. Fight. For her. But not for me. Never for me.
Something hot and ugly twisted in my chest. Jealousy, yes, but more than that. Pain. Deep, gut-wrenching pain that I couldn't hide. My father's favoritism had always been clear, but this........this was different. This was life or death. And even then, I wasn't worth saving.
Damian's laugh was low, dangerous. "Ah, I see. Your favorite one. The one you spoiled with my money." His eyes glittered. "What poor taste you have."
"I'll pay you back!" my father wheezed, his voice cracking with desperation. "I swear it, Damian! Just… just don't hurt my daughter. She's innocent."
Innocent.
The word made my tears fall faster. Was that what he thought of me? That I wasn't innocent? That I was damaged, tainted, undeserving of protection?
Damian's gaze flicked toward me then, sharp and assessing. "Daughter? What about that one?" He pointed directly at me, and I stumbled back, fear coursing through me.
My father's next words shattered whatever tiny piece of hope I had left.
"You can take that one with you, I don't care. How about you take her in exchange for your money? She's nineteen, untouched. She'll fetch you a good deal. Just… just spare me."
The world tilted. My breath caught in my throat, and suddenly I couldn't feel my legs.
I stared at him, searching desperately for something, hesitation, regret, anything. But there was nothing. His face was stone, his tone steady. He wasn't bluffing. He wasn't panicked. He was serious.
He was selling me. His own daughter.
A sob tore from my chest as my knees buckled. My vision blurred, and I wanted to scream at him, to demand why. Why wasn't I enough? Why was I always the expendable one? But my voice was gone, trapped beneath the weight of betrayal pressing against my ribs.
Damian smirked, like the decision amused him. "I'll take her."
The front door swung open, and two massive men walked in, their presence filling the room. They moved with precision, like they had been waiting for this moment.
Before I could react, one of them seized me, throwing me over his shoulder like I was nothing more than a sack of grain.
"No!" I screamed, kicking, thrashing with all the strength left in my battered body. My fists pounded against his back, my voice raw as it cracked under the weight of my cries. "Daddy! Please! Please don't let them take me!"
But he didn't move.
He didn't fight.
He didn't even look at me.
Instead, he extended his hand shaking Damian Carter's hand like a man closing a business deal.
And when my tear-blurred eyes flicked to my sister, I saw it. That smirk. That cruel, satisfied smirk as if she had been waiting for this moment her whole life.
My body went still. The fight drained out of me, replaced by a hollow ache so deep it made breathing painful. My screams faded into broken sobs as they carried me outside.
The car door slammed shut behind me, sealing my fate.
I pressed myself into the corner of the leather seat, shaking uncontrollably. The world outside blurred past through the tinted windows, but I barely saw it. All I could see was my father's face...cold, detached, uncaring. All I could hear was my sister's laugh echoing in my head.
"Enough tears already."
The voice snapped through the silence, deep and commanding. I flinched, my eyes darting toward him. Damian Carter sat across from me, legs crossed casually, his gaze sharp and unyielding.
"You should be grateful," he said, voice laced with disdain. "I pulled you out of that hellhole. So here's how this works, you obey, or you suffer. Do you understand me?"
I nodded quickly, my throat too tight to form words. My hands trembled in my lap as silent tears traced down my cheeks.
He leaned back, his eyes narrowing. "Good. Keep it that way."
I turned my face toward the window, forcing the sobs to stay quiet. Inside, hatred burned hotter with every passing second. Hatred for my father. For my sister. For the life that had crumbled around me in one cruel instant.
Eventually, exhaustion dragged me into a restless, tear-soaked sleep.
I woke to a violent jerk on my arm.
"Out."
I stumbled as one of Damian's men yanked me from the car. My knees buckled, and I almost fell before catching myself. My gaze lifted...and my breath caught.
The mansion loomed before me, grand and imposing. Gleaming marble walls rose high, the sheer size of it making me feel small, insignificant. The driveway stretched endlessly, lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and fountains that glittered under the fading sunlight.
For a brief moment, awe slipped through my fear. It was the kind of house I had only ever seen on television or in glossy magazines.
Inside, the beauty deepened. Marble floors gleamed beneath golden chandeliers that sparkled overhead. Staircases curled gracefully toward the upper floors, their railings polished to perfection. Expensive paintings lined the walls, each brushstroke telling a story of wealth I could never imagine.
But despite its grandeur, the mansion felt… empty. Cold. Like a museum, stunning but lifeless. A handful of maids moved quietly through the shadows, their eyes cast down, their faces unreadable.
"Melinda!" Damian's voice thundered across the hall.
A woman appeared almost instantly, hurrying out from what looked like the kitchen. She was middle-aged, her hair tied neatly back, her eyes warm as she smiled at him.
"Yes, Damian?"
His name. Damian Carter.
The words echoed in my mind, nagging at my memory. And then it clicked.
Of course.
I had seen that name before, on magazine covers, in news articles, flashing across TV screens. The youngest billionaire. The ruthless CEO of Luthor's Corp. A man whispered about in both admiration and fear.
And now, the man who owned me.
My stomach churned as realization sank in.
I hadn't just been sold.
I had been sold to him.
******
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