It was a sleepless night in Selira's home. The house, once filled with laughter and her father's warm presence, now echoed with silence and sorrow. Selira and her mother lay on the floor, unable to sleep, tears silently rolling down their cheeks. Her mother clutched a pillow close to her chest while Selira stared at the wooden ceiling, remembering her father's love, his dreams, and how much he cared for them.
The room still smelled faintly of his clothes, of the spices he worked with daily, and the sandalwood soap he loved. Each breath felt heavy. The pain was fresh, raw, and cruel. All Selira could do was hold her mother's hand, both of them lost in their grief, unsure of how to face the days ahead.
Meanwhile, far away in Los Angeles city, Zavian had left his mansion and traveled to one of his private farmhouses on the outskirts. It was nestled among tall cypress trees and surrounded by wide green pastures a place he used to escape the chaos of city life. He'd told his family that he had an important business meeting to avoid attending his stepbrother's birthday. He didn't want to be part of a celebration filled with fake smiles and hidden agendas.
Darian Slate, his best friend, was already waiting for him there.
They sat on the open terrace, with drinks in hand, watching the moonlight bathe the estate in silver hues. "Zavian," Darian began, half-laughing, "you always run away from your family drama like a guilty cat."
Zavian smirked coldly. "It's not drama. It's poison. That party is a den of vipers. I don't belong there."
Their conversation shifted to Zavian's health. Darian teased, "You know, maybe your allergy to women isn't a curse. Maybe it's fate telling you to stay single forever."
Zavian's expression darkened. "You always set me up with girls like it's a joke. You know what happens when they touch me."
"Come on, man. I thought if we ever found one who didn't trigger it, maybe she's the one," Darian said, trying to defend his behavior.
Since his teen years, Zavian had suffered from an unexplained allergic reaction to women's touch, especially on his neck. Doctors had tried everything, including Dr. Kael Thorne, their trusted mutual friend. But the only solution was temporary medications and stress management.
Zavian leaned back in his chair. "All my schoolmates had girlfriends. They spoke about kisses, hugs, love... I had silence. Whenever I tried, my body turned against me. You think I enjoyed being the outsider?"
Darian grew quiet.
Zavian continued, "Kael once said if a woman doesn't trigger it, maybe she's special. Maybe she's the cure. But even he lost hope."
Darian tried to lighten the mood again. "Fine. I'll stop the girl experiments. But just once, let me say... it's not my fault those girls run out in one minute."
Zavian chuckled dryly. "Next time, keep them for yourself."
Darian raised his glass. "Deal. But remember, I may be a playboy... but I'm still a virgin. I kiss, flirt, maybe a little boob fun. But I never cross the line."
Zavian laughed, pushing him playfully. "Sure, Romeo."
The two ate and drank under the stars, enjoying their peaceful retreat.
The next day, as morning light touched the village, a storm brewed behind closed doors. Selira's boyfriend, Braylon, and her so-called friend, Ira, sat in Braylon's guesthouse, hatching a dark plan. The house, one of the many Braylon's father owned, was modest yet private perfect for secrets.
Braylon's father ran a shady business, and Braylonhad picked up the habit of dealing in shadows. Though he acted like a caring boyfriend, his eyes were on money, not Selira.
"She's always dreaming about becoming an actress," he said, scoffing. "Why not make her dream the trap?"
Ira sipped her drink, curling her legs up on the couch. "You mean... sell her off to that rich psycho?"
Braylon smirked. "Exactly. He is Forty-five, divorced. His first wife ran away because of his sick obsession with control and abuse. Now, he wants a 'fresh, innocent girl' as his next trophy wife. And he's offering five hundred dollers."
Ira eyes widened. "Half a million for a virgin? That's insane."
"He's insane," Braylon said. "He doesn't just want a wife. He wants someone he can 'train.' Someone to obey, to serve... like a doll."
Ira took a sip. "He wants someone young. Innocent. And we're giving him exactly that."
"But we need to act fast," Braylon said. "Seven days and that house is gone. Selira's desperate now. She'll believe anything."
"Why did you say you'll give her mom fifty thousand dollars?" Ira asked, raising an eyebrow.
He shrugged. "Guilt tax. We're destroying her life. Might as well give them a cushion. Besides, it'll make me look like a savior."
Ira smiled, sliding onto his lap. "You're wicked."
He pulled her closer. "You love it."
The room dimmed as their bodies tangled on the bed. Clothes came off piece by piece. Braylon's fingers trailed down Ira's skin as he whispered, "Let's enjoy this. Soon, we'll be rich."
Their lips met in a rough, heated kiss. Ira moaned softly as his mouth traveled down her neck. Her robe slipped open, revealing her bare chest. Braylon's hands gripped her thighs as she wrapped herself around him, whispering filthy promises into his ear.
She guided him between her legs, pulling him deeper into the sheets, their breath mingling, sweat beading on their skin. The bed creaked as their moans filled the small room. It wasn't love. It was power, lust, and greed—all tangled into one wicked night.
Meanwhile, in her home, Selira sat with her mother, going through old pictures. Her father's laughter echoed in her memory. Tears welled in her eyes.
Suddenly, Braylon knocked at the door.
Selira opened it. "Braylon?"
He smiled, putting on his best innocent face. "Good news. I found a financier. He's willing to help us."
Selira's mother joined them. "That's wonderful. But why would someone help strangers?"
"He's a rich man, aunty. He has his reasons. But he agreed to meet Selira in person. Only one issue... he's staying in Goodwill Hotel.
He doesn't like meeting people at home."
"Hotel?" her mother frowned.
"Yes, but it's a proper place. City people stay there. Nothing shady. I'll go with her. And Ira will join us tomorrow. She's just busy today."
Selira nodded. "Yes, mom. It's not some secret place. I'll be careful."
Her mother hesitated. "Then I'll come too."
"No," Braylon said quickly. "He won't meet if it's more than what he agreed. Please... this is the only chance to save your house."
Her mother paused. "Fine. But you must be careful. I trust you."
Braylon smiled sweetly. "Of course."
She finally agreed.
As Braylon walked away, he smirked, thinking to himself, Soon, five hundred thousand dollars... and no one will suspect a thing.
Back at the house, Selira hugged her mom and whispered, "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."
But the butterflies in her stomach weren't from excitement. They were a silent warning, fluttering loud in a world too blind to hear.