Daisy's POV
Darkness pressed against my eyelids.
The sound of the helicopter was gone.
So was the sea.
I tried to move—but pain shot through my wrists.
That was when I realized I was no longer at sea.
And whatever waited for me here… was worse.
….
….
….
….
Darkness clung to me like a second skin.
The roar of the helicopter was gone.
So was the cold wind.
So was the ocean.
I tried to move.
Pain exploded through my wrists.
A sharp gasp tore from my throat as I realized my hands were cuffed—cold metal biting into my skin.
Where am I?
My eyes fluttered open.
White lights.
Cold walls.
The smell of disinfectant and metal.
Not a ship.
Not freedom.
Footsteps echoed.
Heavy. Unhurried.
The room fell silent.
"Wake her."
The voice was calm—dangerously so.
No anger.
No cruelty.
Just control.
But I recognized that voice.
Someone splashed water on my face. I jerked violently, choking.
That was when I saw him.
Tall.
Immaculately dressed.
Dark eyes sharp enough to cut through flesh.
His presence alone suffocated the room.
This man wasn't shouting orders.
He was the order.
He studied me like a problem that needed solving.
"Name," he said.
I swallowed hard. "D-Daisy Walker…"
He tilted his head slightly, considering.
Then—
"No," he said coldly.
"That's not your name anymore."
My heart shattered.
"What do you mean?"
I asked.
"You are in no room question me," he said.
"I am Lucien Vale,"
He continued calmly.
"And from this moment on… your life belongs to me."
A wave of shock washed over me as I stared at the dreaded man in front of me.
The sleeves of his black shirt were folded neatly to his elbows, revealing the terrifying tattoo coiled around his left arm.
An expensive watch gleamed on his right wrist under the harsh lights.
The top four buttons of his shirt were left deliberately open, exposing a broad, solid chest—
and an eagle-shaped tattoo carved over the right side of it.
A predator's mark.
He took slow, steady steps toward me, his polished shoes making crisp sounds against the floor.
His grey eyes looked down at me as if I were something filthy dragged in from the street.
"If anyone asks for your name," he said coolly,
"You will say your name is Collette—Collette Brocker."
"Why should I listen to you?" I snapped, fury burning through my fear.
"Who the hell do you think you are to change my name?"
A low, humorless laugh slipped from his lips.
It made my skin crawl.
"Hm."
His gaze never left my face.
"Daisy Walker… No. Collette Brocker."
He tilted his head slightly, studying me.
"It seems to me," he continued in a quiet, dangerous tone,
"That you don't understand the situation you're in."
I swallowed hard.
"Someone," he said calmly,
"Come in here."
His eyes never left mine.
"At your service, Boss Lucien."
A bulky man entered immediately, standing stiff and upright, shoulders squared in obedience.
"Tonight's auction will take place at Crestview," Lucien said.
"Get her ready."
He paused, then added coldly,
"My little cat needs to start learning the rules."
And with that, he turned and walked out.
The door shut.
The bulky man turned to me, arms crossed.
"You heard the Boss," he commanded.
"Get up."
Heavens…
I felt like breaking this idiot's neck.
Was he blind?
"Get up?"
I scoffed, lifting my bound hands.
"How exactly am I supposed to do that when you chained me up?"
He scowled and stepped toward me, disgust written all over his face.
Without warning, he yanked me up by the chains.
Pain ripped through my body.
I screamed.
He didn't care.
With rough hands, he unlocked the restraints—only to grip my arm tightly.
Then he dragged me toward the door.
Out of the room.
Toward whatever hell Crestview was waiting to show me.
...
Not quite long after, I was shoved into a room roughly.
The door slammed shut behind me.
Silence followed.
Shortly after, the door opened again—revealing the bulky man.
This time, he wasn't alone.
Beside him stood a middle-aged woman, her hair neatly packed into a sleek bun.
She wore a simple dress covered by an
apron, clean and modest—out of place in a place like this.
The moment her eyes landed on me, she smiled.
A real smile.
Warm. Gentle.
My chest tightened.
Was I imagining it?
It was the first time since the cruise ship that someone had looked at me without cruelty in their eyes.
The bulky man gave me a quick once-over, then turned to the woman.
His expression softened—only slightly, but noticeably.
"The Boss wants her ready before 7 p.m. tonight," he said.
The woman nodded calmly. "I understand, Peter."
"I'm sorry to trouble you, Ma'am Elizabeth."
"There's no trouble," she replied. "It's my work."
Peter nodded once and left.
The door closed.
Locking us inside.
I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how alone I was.
The woman turned fully toward me and smiled again, slower this time—measuring, but not cruel.
"How should I address you, young lady?" she asked gently.
I blinked.
"Uh… my name is Dais—"
I stopped.
Lucien Vale's voice echoed in my head.
If anyone asks you your name…
My jaw tightened.
The audacity of that man—to erase me so easily.
"Miss…?" Elizabeth prompted softly.
I exhaled.
"Call me Collette Brocker," I said.
The name felt foreign.
Heavy. Like borrowed skin.
She studied my face for a moment, then nodded as if she understood more than she let on.
"Very well, Miss Collette," she said.
"Come. Let's get you ready."
She turned and led me into an inner room.
Inside the Inner Room.
The room was filled with dresses.
Elegant. Expensive.
They hung like silent witnesses.
My stomach dropped.
Elizabeth reached for one—black, simple, fitted.
Not flashy.
Not revealing.
Not auction-worthy.
My heart pounded.
Why this one?
She glanced at me through the mirror.
"You'll be observing tonight," she said carefully.
"Not participating."
I stiffened.
Observing what?
She didn't explain.
She never had to.
As she adjusted the fabric around my shoulders, her hands trembled—just slightly.
And for the first time, fear flickered behind her calm eyes.
...
Within minutes, I was dressed.
Standing beside Lucien Vale in front of his mansion.
The sight of his estate stole the air from my lungs.
Massive. Dominating. Endless.
I had lost consciousness the night they brought me here by chopper.
Seeing it now, in full clarity, the environment screamed nothing but wealth—dangerous, untouchable wealth.
Just then, a sleek black 2025 G-Wagon pulled up in front of us.
Tinted windows. Polished body. Silent authority.
A tall man stepped out from the driver's seat, dressed in black, dark shades covering his eyes.
He walked around to the back and opened the door smoothly.
"Boss, you may," he said.
Lucien Vale strode toward the car, his tailored suit catching the evening lights as though even darkness bent for him.
He entered with effortless dominance.
Then—he tilted his head toward me.
His expression was unreadable.
Only his grey eyes remained, piercing straight through me, as if measuring my worth—or deciding my fate.
I stood there, returning his stare without a word.
"Get in," he said coolly.
"Or do you plan to stand there all night?"
Only then did I realize the door was still open.
The tall man was waiting.
He glanced at me and—unexpectedly—smiled.
Warm.
It unsettled me more than Lucien's stare.
I swallowed hard and climbed into the car.
Once I settled inside, Lucien tore his gaze away and faced forward, as if I no longer existed.
Heavens…
How was I supposed to survive sharing a single breath of space with this devil?
I had seen him kill a man in cold blood—without hesitation, without mercy, without even sparing a glance.
The drive to the so-called auction at Crestview drained every ounce of strength from me.
No words were spoken.
The silence inside the car was thick—heavy with unspoken threats.
Each second stretched longer than the last.
…..
Finally, the car slowed.
Through the tinted glass, lights emerged—golden, excessive, false.
Laughter drifted in.
Music.
Elegance.
The kind of place where monsters wore tailored suits and sins were sold with champagne.
Lucien Vale adjusted his cufflinks calmly.
Then, without looking at me, he spoke.
"Tonight," he said,
"You watch."
My heart skipped.
"And you learn."
The car door opened.
And hell welcomed us politely.