Chapter 2

I woke up to a blinding white light.

A dull pain throbbed at the back of my head, my throat felt like sandpaper, and every breath reeked of a harsh, chemical smell.

I opened my eyes and instinctively tried to push myself up, only to feel a heavy weight on my right wrist.

A silver metal band was locked around my wrist.

There was only a single number on it.

I frowned and pulled hard at it.

The lock didn't budge.

The scenes from last night rushed back into my head piece by piece.

Darius.

Daisy.

That sentence: "The goods have arrived."

My stomach churned, and I almost threw up.

So it wasn't a nightmare after all.

My husband had really sold me.

I forced myself to calm down and quickly scanned my surroundings.

It looked like a luxurious lounge with no windows, secured by a heavy metal door.

A security camera was mounted in the corner, aimed straight at the center of the room.

Besides the sofa I was sitting on, there was a rack hanging with over a dozen expensive evening gowns.

Cosmetics, jewelry, and perfume were arranged on the table.

Every single item was worth a fortune.

My phone, bag, and ID were all gone.

They had even fixed my hair.

Everything pointed to one fact: they needed me to look "pretty."

The thought sent a chill straight down my spine.

Just then, the sound of a key turning came from the door.

Two women walked in.

They were wearing matching black uniforms, and one of them was holding a tablet.

"Awake?"

She looked down to verify my number.

"Number 17, physical condition normal."

Her tone sounded like a doctor checking on a patient, or a warehouse manager verifying inventory.

I stood up immediately.

"I want to leave."

She didn't even raise her head.

"Ask all your questions after the auction."

My breath caught in my throat.

"What did you just say?"

She finally looked up.

"The auction."

When those two words hit my ears, I almost thought I had misheard.

"This is illegal confinement."

"My husband tricked me into coming here."

"I'm calling the police."

The woman set the tablet on the table, completely unbothered.

"There's no signal here."

"And no police."

"If I were you, I’d save my strength."

Having said that, she turned to leave.

I rushed over quickly and blocked the doorway with my arm.

"Move."

She didn't push me.

She simply stepped aside, letting me look out for myself.

Four tall bodyguards stood outside the door.

Every one of them wore an earpiece.

There were noticeable bulges around their waists.

The last bit of wishful thinking inside me completely vanished.

This was no ordinary kidnapping.

They were too well prepared.

After the woman left, the door locked shut again.

I didn't keep pounding on the door.

Crying and screaming wouldn't open it.

I sat back on the sofa and began organizing the information in my head, piece by piece.

First, I was still alive.

Second, they hadn't hurt me.

Third, they needed me to appear in peak condition.

Which meant I still had value tonight.

Having value meant I was temporarily safe.

As long as I was alive, there would be a chance.

I stood up again and thoroughly inspected the entire room.

The position of the camera.

The direction of the door lock.

The AC vents.

The ceiling.

I committed every usable item to memory.

The garment rack was made of metal.

High heels were sharp enough.

The vanity mirror could be shattered.

If anyone approached, I would at least have a chance to fight back.

Just as I was thinking, muffled crying from a woman suddenly came from next door.

Right after, another raspy voice spoke up.

"Stop crying."

"The more you cry, the more of a hassle they think you are."

I immediately pressed closer to the wall.

The voices came through intermittently.

"Is this your first time?"

"Yeah..."

"Then remember this."

"Whatever you do, don't fight back."

"Why?"

The other side fell silent for a few seconds.

Then, she said in a low voice,

"Those who fight back don't fetch a good price."

My hands clenched into fists.

Fetch a price.

She used that word.

Not a deal.

Not hosting.

Selling.

I finally understood where the "investor" Darius spoke of had actually sent me.

Just then, the door opened again.

This time, it wasn't the staff who walked in.

It was Daisy.

She had changed into a wine-red haute couture gown, a diamond necklace glittering around her neck.

I had seen that necklace before.

Last month, when I accompanied Darius to pick out an anniversary gift, he said it was too expensive and the company couldn't afford it.

Now, it was around Daisy's neck.

She sat down across from me with a smile, like an old friend coming for a visit.

"Aria, you seem to have recovered quite well."

I stared at her coldly.

"Where is Darius?"

Daisy picked up a bottle of perfume from the table and took a sniff.

"He's busy."

"The investment contract has reached the final signing stage."

"After tonight, he will be the CEO of a company valued at over a hundred million dollars."

Listening to her words, I only felt a sense of absurdity.

"So, he sold his wife."

Daisy let out a soft laugh.

"Don't put it so harshly."

"You're just helping him one last time."

I glared at her.

"When did you two start?"

She didn't dodge the question.

Instead, a boastful smile spread across her face.

"Do you remember last Christmas?"

My heart sank.

Last Christmas.

Darius had told me the company was tight on cash and that he had to meet with investors.

I waited at home alone until dawn.

Daisy said unhurriedly,

"That night, he was at my place."

"And the day before yesterday."

"Yesterday."

"Including this afternoon."

She looked down at her newly done nails.

"He said once the contract is signed, he'll divorce you."

"Aria, he never loved you."

I didn't say a word.

Countless details from the past few years flashed through my mind.

During Darius's first year of starting the company, he worked late into the night every day.

Fearing his stomach would give out, I insisted on bringing him dinner.

He said he was in a meeting and told me to leave it at the front desk.

Many times, I didn't even get to see him in person.

It turned out those nights I thought he was working his heart out were spent at another woman's home.

Daisy looked at me, expecting me to break down.

Instead, I only raised my head slowly.

"Did you come today just to tell me this?"

She paused for a moment.

She probably didn't expect me to remain so calm.

"Of course not."

She stood up and walked over to my side.

"I came to thank you."

"Without you selling your house, without you co-signing for Darius, without you giving up your career, we wouldn't have gotten to where we are today."

She leaned down and whispered softly into my ear,

"Your value has only truly run out today."

Having said that, she walked out in her high heels.

The door locked shut once more.

I stood there, motionless for a long time.

Anger wouldn't solve anything.

Tears wouldn't save me either.

Darius and Daisy thought they had won.

Yet I suddenly realized they had made a mistake.

They treated me as a piece of mindless commodity.

But I was still alive.

As long as I still had breath in me, I would definitely find a way out of here.

Just then, a low broadcast sounded throughout the entire building.

"All items, please proceed to the preparation area."

The door was unlocked.

Two staff members pushed in a rack.

One of them grabbed the number on my wrist and double-checked it.

"Number 17."

She handed me a pair of high heels encrusted with crystal diamonds.

"Put them on."

I didn't move.

She added calmly,

"You can walk on your own."

"Or you can let them carry you over."

I looked outside the door.

In the long hallway, a line of women was already lined up.

Every single one of them wore their designated number on their wrist.

Some kept their heads down.

Some had red, swollen eyes from crying.

Some had already gone numb.

I looked down at my own number tag.

The staff member flipped through the list in her hand and checked off the box next to my name.

Then, she spoke into her earpiece:

"The final item is in place."

My heart plunged heavily.

The final item.