Chapter 1 Daughter For Sale

• The ballroom reeked of three kinds of money: the heavy, pungent smoke of cigars clinging to the curtains, the sharp aroma of champagne emanating from the crystal glasses, and beneath it, the repulsive smell of human flesh that proved all the glitter was decaying.
• The dress I wore was a suit of armor my father had offered me as "salvation," but I felt like nothing more than a piece of meat in a display case, its price tag gone.
• When my sisters entered, they scrutinized the cheapness of my silk, the height of my shoe heels, and exchanged glances with their familiar contemptuous smiles.
• They were the queens of these tables, while I was merely the shamefully hidden fruit of my father's forbidden love, his "mistake" in the underworld. My mother wasn't the daughter of one of the underground cartels, therefore I was worthless.
• "Myrande, darling," Covin whispered in my ear. His hand rested on my waist, but there was not a shred of peace in the warmth of his fingers; only the cold dominion of possession. "I can't wait to put that ring on your finger. Tonight everything will be official, you're mine now."
• I could still smell Covin's scent, the perfumes he'd brought from the filthy toilets of the underworld. Even as he said "You're mine," his eyes lingered on another woman's cleavage at the other end of the room.
• This man, my father's ticket out of debt, was polishing me like a diamond, then preparing to throw me into a garbage dump. "Where's my father?" I asked, trying to suppress the tremor in my voice.
• Covin grinned, words like poison. "He's waiting for you on stage, princess. You need to sign that document that will save the rest of your life. Education in Europe, freedom... It all depends on a stroke of the pen. That's what you want, isn't it, Myr?"
• My heart pounded in my ribcage. When I stepped onto the stage, hundreds of pairs of eyes were on me; they were all like wolves waiting for their prey.
• My father, with that fake smile, held a file in his hand. His eyes held not fatherly affection, but the greed of a merchant appraising a saleable commodity.
• "Sign it, my dear," my father said, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "The moment you sign this, you will be free from this darkness. These are your tickets to the life you desire."
• My hand trembled as I grasped the pen. I looked at the lines on the paper; a university in Europe, a scholarship, a new beginning... It was worth it. Finally, I would escape this dark world and build a quiet life abroad with my friends. My father wasn't always so generous; this surprised me.
• I signed.
• As the ink smudged on the paper, I felt something break inside me. When I dropped the pen, I saw that triumphant, repulsive expression on my father's face.
• "Thank you, my daughter," he said, turning to the microphone and announcing it to the whole hall. "Myrande is now free. However, with all her debts and her new owner."
• The room suddenly fell silent.
• I heard the doors behind me lock. Covin burst into laughter behind me. I thought I was buying a ticket to Europe, but I had signed the darkest contract of my life.
• My virginity was the only payment for my father's debts, and now I belonged to a huge, dark shadow in that crowd, to those nameless men who made the highest bid.
• I was a piece of meat. And the road to the slaughterhouse was paved with red carpets. The air in the room suddenly grew heavy, the oxygen was drawn away, and all that remained was the greedy growls of those filthy, sweaty mob bosses.
• "Ten million dollars for her first night? Does this slut have gold hidden between her legs?" a voice from one of the tables shouted. Laughter erupted.
• "My offer is twelve million! I can't wait to hear her screams," another yelled, extinguishing his cigar in ash.
• A wave of nausea washed over me.
• They... they were all flesh traders.
• I was not a woman, but an object, a possession, a means of pleasure for them. Covin's fake, protective mask had fallen, and he stood beside me, gleefully watching the bargaining over me as if it were a football match.
• "You..." I said, my voice too furious to tremble. "You can't look at me like that. I'm not your property, you vile, rotten bastards!"
• The room fell silent for a moment when my words exploded in the air.
• But this silence wasn't the calm before the storm; this silence was the moment the gates of hell would open. My father, his face flushed red, took a step toward me.
• There wasn't a single trace of fatherhood in his eyes. CRASH!
• The force of the slap sent my head reeling to the side, and I tasted the metallic blood on my palate. I collapsed to my knees, the hem of my silk dress buried in the dust and spilled drinks on the floor. My ears were ringing.
• "Shut up, you stupid whore!" my father roared. "Your only merit is opening your legs to pay my debts!"
• Just then, from behind the tables, amidst the dark shadows, the old man with a deep scar on his face and a gaze that froze anyone, rose to his feet.
• "Twenty million," he said, his voice as cold as a graveyard silence. "And right now, in front of everyone, I will have my first taste."
• The hall shook with the man's offer and his vile insinuation. Everyone recoiled from his power, everyone withdrew their own offers. As the man slowly made his way to the stage, I tried to get up from the floor, digging my nails into my palms.
• At that moment, I thought I would die at the thought of the calluses on his hands touching my skin.
• Just then, BANG!
• The sound of a gunshot shattered all the windows of the ballroom. The enormous chandelier on the ceiling rattled. A second, a third shot...
• "Everyone who makes an offer will have their tongues cut out." said the stranger who entered the hall, standing in the shadow of the door.