Chapter 1: Have I Become a Sold Out?
The first thing Frances Lin felt was the softness beneath her.
A bed, large, cold, unfamiliar. The faint scent of tobacco lingered in the air, mingled with a perfume far too expensive to belong to her.
Her lashes trembled as she slowly opened her eyes, her vision adjusting to the dim golden light. Marble floors gleamed beneath a crystal chandelier, and sheer curtains swayed gently with the evening breeze.
She sat up abruptly.
A sharp pain shot through her head. Bruises circled her wrists. Her heart pounded violently against her chest.
Where was she?
Who brought her here?
Clutching the blanket tightly, fragments of the previous night crashed into her mind, guns, voices, chaos.
And that voice.
Cold, commanding.
Stafford Raymond.
The billionaire everyone feared.
Her eyes darted around the room.
She wasn't dead.
She was lying on his bed.
A wave of memories surged through her, betrayal, loss, and the silent vows she had made during countless lonely nights.
Frances's life had once been peaceful, gentle, like her mother's lullabies.
Born into wealth, she had lived untouched by sorrow, believing in fairness, kindness, and trust.
But fate had no regard for innocence.
After the death of her parents, Amelia Chris and Jake Lin, her world shifted into something darker. The smiles around her became masks. The warmth she once knew turned cold.
The people she trusted the most became strangers.
Marcus, the man she had planned to marry, betrayed her.
Charlotte, her best friend, took him.
Late one night, alone in her empty room, Frances had broken down.
"Mum… Dad… if you were still here… Charlotte wouldn't have taken my life…"
Her voice echoed in the silence.
"She framed me, called me a thief, a whore, things I never was…"
Marcus believed Charlotte.
He called Frances unworthy of love.
Five years of devotion meant nothing.
She had held onto her values, refusing to give herself to him before marriage, believing he respected her.
She was wrong.
He had been sleeping with Charlotte all along.
And Martha, her trusted coworker, had stood beside them.
"You really thought people liked you?" Martha had mocked. "Marcus made the right choice. If I had met him first, I would have taken him too."
That same day, Frances lost her job, framed for a crime she didn't commit.
Desperate for answers, she went to Marcus's house.
But instead of truth, she found laughter behind closed doors.
Charlotte's voice cut through the silence.
"She's been a problem for too long. Why don't we just get rid of her?"
Marcus laughed.
"No need. We've already taken everything from her. Maybe we should sell her next."
Frances collapsed to her knees.
Her world shattered completely.
The betrayal ran deeper than she had imagined.
Marcus had drugged her once, what she thought was a harmless date. While she was half-conscious, he made her sign documents.
Her parents' company.
Her home.
Everything, gone.
When the bank confirmed the property now belonged to Marcus Berish, reality struck.
She laughed through her tears.
Her wealth.
Her home.
Her life.
Gone.
Silence surrounded her as a single thought escaped her lips.
"I'm finished."
That night, she wandered beneath a fading sunset until she found a half-built house hidden among thick bushes.
Exhausted, she dropped her bag, spread her scarf, and lay down.
Sleep came quickly.
But peace did not last.
Voices shattered the silence.
"Boss said we track him down."
"Impossible! Stafford Raymond is a ghost!"
"Shut up! We stay here until his men pass."
Three men entered, Kay, Fire Arm, and Slaughter.
One of them spotted her.
"Leader… there's a woman here."
"A woman?" Kay snapped. "We don't have time for this."
Fire Arm smirked. "They say Stafford never harms women. What if we use her as bait?"
Kay's lips curled. "Now that's useful."
Rough hands dragged Frances up.
"Wake up!" Fire Arm barked, tapping her leg with a cutlass. "You either kill or get killed. No middle ground."
Terror consumed her.
"Please… don't kill me. I'll do anything!" she cried.
"Then cooperate," Kay said coldly. "Or die."
Her wrists burned as tears streamed down her face. She thought Marcus had sent them.
Her body trembled uncontrollably.
But deep within her fear, something hardened.
If she survived, she would make them all pay.
Engines roared outside.
"Leader! They're here!" Fire Arm shouted.
"Untie her!" Kay ordered quickly.
Moments later, three men in black suits stormed in, guns raised.
Then,
"Stop."
A single word.
Cold, absolute.
Everything froze.
Stafford Raymond had arrived.
He stepped forward, a cigarette resting between his fingers, his sharp gaze cutting through the tension.
"You thought you could hide from me?" he said calmly.
Too calmly.
Kay raised his gun. "Stay back, Raymond! Or she dies!"
A faint smirk appeared on Stafford's lips.
"Is that your plan?"
Gunshots rang out.
Kpaa! Kpaa! Kpaa!
The men dropped instantly, blood pouring from their legs.
Frances screamed.
"Please don't kill me!"
Stafford's gaze shifted to her, unreadable.
"Take them underground," he ordered. "Let Spike handle them."
Her vision blurred.
The world tilted.
Before she could collapse, strong arms caught her.
Stafford Raymond had lifted her.
His grip was firm, steady.
"Home," he said.
"Yes, boss," his driver, Sky, replied, clearly surprised.
When Frances woke again, she was back in the grand room.
The same bed.
The same silence.
He had brought her here.
Stafford Raymond, the man known to avoid women, had carried her.
He stood beside her now, removing his jacket as he carefully cleaned her wounds.
His hands were cold.
But his touch, unexpectedly gentle.
Then his voice broke the silence.
"Paris, come over. Now."
Minutes later, a woman's voice echoed through the hall.
"Where's my little brother?"
"Upstairs," another voice replied.
Paris entered the room and froze.
Stafford sat beside Frances, his expression unreadable.
"Who is she?" Paris asked.
"Someone caught in a mess," he said flatly. "Take care of her."
Paris blinked in disbelief.
"You brought a woman home?"
He didn't answer.
His gaze lingered on Frances for a brief moment before he stood and walked out.
For the first time,
The man who feared women,
Had touched one.
Downstairs, his voice echoed through the mansion.
"No one disturbs her until I say so."