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CHAPTER 1

SLOANE

S eventeen Years, Eleven Months, and Twenty Days Old

My knock on Everett’s office door felt heavier than usual, like my knuckles already knew something I didn’t. He called me in, but his tone was crisp, it was the voice he used for business meetings…and it made me even more uneasy.

I stepped inside, and he looked up from his desk. The room smelled of leather and something smoky, like his cologne or the cigars he sometimes enjoyed after dinner. Everything in here screamed power: the bookshelves lined with unread leather-bound books, the polished desk that reflected the soft glow of the desk lamp, even the chair I sank into across from him.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked, my voice steady, even though my palms felt clammy for some reason.

He’d never given me a reason to be nervous before. I didn’t know why I was now.

Everett leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. He studied me for a moment, his eyes sharp and almost…calculating, before he finally spoke. “Sloane, your birthday’s coming up. The big eighteen.”

I nodded, unsure where this was going. I knew Everett had his staff planning a huge party for me, but besides that, I didn’t know what was happening.

“We need to talk about next steps,” he said, his tone smooth, as if he were discussing a quarterly business review.

“Next steps?” I echoed, a nervous laugh slipping out. “Like…graduation?”

Everett tilted his head, the corners of his mouth twitching in what might have been a smile, but it didn’t feel like the amused kind. “Not exactly. You’ll be graduating soon, and as an adult, it will be time for you to start life on your own.”

I blinked, not understanding. “Wait…what?”

He sighed, like he was explaining something obvious to someone who should’ve known better. “You’ll be moving out after graduation. I’ve given you every opportunity to succeed—this house, your school, everything you could possibly need. Now it’s time for you to stand on your own two feet.”

My stomach dropped like the floor had disappeared beneath me. “But…I don’t have a plan yet. My grades—” I swallowed hard. “They’re not good enough for most colleges. I don’t even know what I want to do.”

“That’s something you’ll need to figure out,” he said simply, as if this was a puzzle I could solve by next Tuesday. “You’ve been given the tools, Sloane. What you do with them now is up to you.”

I stared at him, waiting for some kind of punchline. Some indication that this was a test, or a joke, or anything other than the cold truth settling over me like a weight I couldn’t carry. But his expression didn’t waver. He leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the desk, and looking me in the eye.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. I’d thought he’d let me stay after school while I got a job or an internship or even took classes at the local college until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine being cut off the second that I graduated.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone final. “We’ll discuss it more after the party…”

I barely made it back to my room before the panic hit. My legs felt like jelly as I shut the door behind me, the sound of the latch clicking echoing in my ears. I stumbled toward the bed, my chest tightening. Maybe I should have expected this, but it felt like I’d just gotten here, and I was still getting my feet under me. Like I was still trying to dig out of a hole created by years of poverty and a spotty education. He’d never mentioned this once, that I would have to move out. What happened to this being my home ?

Eighteen. Out. On my own.

The words swirled in my head, overlapping with memories I hadn’t let myself think about in years. The tiny apartment with peeling paint and a refrigerator that barely worked. The foster homes with their cold beds and even colder rules. The times I’d gone to school wearing the same clothes for a week because there wasn’t anything else. The days I hadn’t eaten a single meal.

I clutched the edge of the bed, my fingers digging into the comforter as my vision blurred. I’d thought I’d escaped that life. I’d assumed that Everett’s house, with its countless rooms and glittering chandeliers, was my fresh start. But now…now it felt like the rug was being ripped out from under me, and I was falling back into the life I’d barely survived.

I’d be alone again. Even with Everett working all the time, I’d still had someone around. I’d had a family, even if it was small.

Pressing my hands to my chest, I tried to force the air back into my lungs. My breaths were fast, shallow and sharp. My mind was racing, a flood of worst-case scenarios crashing over me. What if I couldn’t find a job? What if I lost everything I’d been given and ended up right back where I started?

The room felt too small, the walls suddenly closing in. I sank to the floor, my back against the bed, and pulled my knees to my chest, trying to stop the trembling. The panic gripped me tight, refusing to let go, until I couldn’t tell if I was crying or gasping for air or both.

I pressed my forehead to my knees, squeezing my eyes shut. This can’t happen . I can’t go back . I can’t .

But no matter how hard I tried to push the fear away, it lingered, clawing at the edges of my mind, whispering that everything I had now was temporary. That I was just a visitor in this life, and soon, I’d be thrown out into the cold.

Again.

* * *

Eighteen.

It was my eighteenth birthday, and I’d woken up feeling like I’d reached my death sentencing day. Celebrating at the enormous birthday party my uncle was throwing me felt like celebrating the end of my life instead.

The grounds around the estate were alive with music and laughter, the kind of noise that should’ve made me feel like I was at the center of something spectacular. Balloons floated in clusters, tied with silver and gold ribbons, glittering under the chandeliers. There were tables stacked with foods I couldn’t even name and a massive cake that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a magazine. It was everything anyone could dream of for their eighteenth birthday.

But I wasn’t really there.

I smiled when someone called my name, nodding at their comments and laughing at jokes I didn’t hear. I accepted every hug and compliment like I was on autopilot. The noise around me blurred into a hum as my mind kept drifting to the conversation with Everett. His words looped in my head like a broken record.

You’ll be on your own.

I stood near the edge of the room, watching as my school friends crowded near the DJ, dancing and taking selfies. They looked so carefree, like they didn’t have a single worry in the world. I envied them at that moment, the ease with which they threw themselves into the night. Their futures were probably mapped out with scholarships, internships, and safety nets. They didn’t know what it felt like to be standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into uncertainty.

“Sloane, this party is insane ,” Marissa gushed, pulling me into a quick hug. She smelled like expensive perfume, and her sequined dress sparkled as she moved. “Seriously, this is the best party I’ve ever been to.”

“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“You’re not?” she teased, tilting her head. “It’s your night!”

“I am,” I lied, my cheeks aching from the effort. “Of course, I am.”

She didn’t seem to notice my hesitation, her attention already pulled toward the tray of drinks being passed around. I’d learned since moving here that underage drinking was an acceptable part of rich people’s lives, and there were bars set up all around the room tonight.

Letting out a slow breath, I glanced at everything again, trying to see it from Marissa’s perspective. The decorations were perfect. The music was perfect. Everyone was having the time of their lives.

Everyone except me.

I wandered outside to the patio, needing a moment to breathe. The pool glowed under the soft lights, filled with people swimming and drinking. Voices and laughter were everywhere. Leaning against the railing, I stared out at the manicured lawn.

What was I supposed to do? I’d spent the last couple of years convincing myself that Everett’s house, his resources, had changed my life. That I’d left the chaos and uncertainty behind. I spent the last few years convincing myself I was safe…that I had a home.

But now, it felt like I was about to lose everything all over again.

“Sloane!” someone called from behind me. I turned to see one of my friends waving me over, a wide grin on her face. “Come take pictures with us!”

“Be right there,” I called back, forcing another smile.

They were just photos, but even the thought of posing felt exhausting. I straightened my ridiculously expensive dress, fixing my face into something resembling happiness, and headed back inside.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of forced smiles and shallow laughter. The gifts piled up on a table, each one more extravagant than the last. I thanked everyone, nodding and smiling until the words felt meaningless. The music grew louder, the crowd more animated, but I felt like I was moving through it all underwater, disconnected and heavy.

As the party wore on, I found myself sitting on the edge of the pool in the bikini I’d changed into, nursing another glass of something fizzy and sweet as my friends laughed and splashed in the water. I stared at the crowd around the deck, watching as everyone else danced and lived in the moment.

That should be me , I thought. This is my party .

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the anxiety twisting in my stomach. Every laugh, every cheer, every flicker of happiness around me felt like a reminder of everything I was about to lose.

I was already feeling like I wasn’t a part of their world.

And soon, when graduation came, that would be true.

* * *

A copious amount of alcohol was clouding my head as I walked down the outdoor path when the party had finally ended. The pebbles of the walkway bit into the bottoms of my feet with every step, and my discarded party dress was gripped in my hand.

Turning the corner, I stumbled when Everett was suddenly there. “Sorry,” I whispered. Things had been strained between us since that talk a few days ago. I needed to work on that. He’d already done so much for me. I needed to not be a brat. It wasn’t his fault that I was useless.

“There you are.” He smiled, but it was a different smile than he normally gave me. “I’ve planned an after-party for you. It starts in an hour.”

“An…after-party?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. My pulse was suddenly throbbing in my neck, and it felt like there was a charge in the air, an energy filled with something I couldn’t quite name…but it made the hair on my arms stand on end.

His smile deepened. “Yes, a more…exclusive gathering.” He tilted his head slightly, studying me with those eyes that always knocked me off guard with how much they resembled my mother’s. “There’s a new outfit waiting for you upstairs. It’s on your bed. Take a shower and put it on. I’ll be waiting.”

My throat tightened. I nodded, unable to form words. I was moving on autopilot as I climbed the stairs, feeling Everett’s gaze follow me until I was out of his sight. Was this going to be more bad news? Was this where he told me that I actually couldn’t stay until graduation and he was kicking me out now ?

Although, why would I wear a new dress for that news?

I really shouldn’t have drunk so much. It was hard to think clearly about anything.

Pushing open the door, the first thing I saw was the dress. It lay neatly on my bed, draped across the blankets. A thin, black slip dress. The fabric shimmered under the low light, silky and delicate. I was still holding the white lace dress that I’d worn to the party. Was it…intentional that the dress on the bed was the exact opposite of the one I had worn today?

Maybe this was a fancier party.

That could be it.

My gaze flicked to the silver slingbacks and the small black lipstick tube next to the dress. Slowly I walked to the bed and picked it up, undoing the cap and staring at the color.

The bright pink color wasn’t something I usually wore.

I stared at the dress for a long time until Everett’s voice echoed in my mind: I’ll be waiting .

Forcing myself to the shower, I washed the chlorine out of my hair and then dried it until it lay straight against my shoulders, applying light makeup after that. By the time I reached for the dress, my hands were trembling.

The fabric was cold against my skin as I slid it on, the thin straps resting softly on my shoulders. The front dipped down, leaving my cleavage exposed. I stepped into the heels, and then I picked up the lipstick and applied it, turning to the mirror.

There was a stranger in the reflection. That couldn’t be me. The pink-stained lips stretched across my face, seeming to mock me cruelly.

I turned away and took in a deep breath. Whatever he had to say, or whatever this was—I would accept it gracefully. Everett had done so much for me; he’d saved me. It was stupid for me to feel nervous.

The mansion was silent except for the distant thump of music. I followed the sound, each step feeling heavier than the last. The music grew louder as I walked down the staircase, a slow, pulsing, dragging beat that did funny things to my insides. Everett had had the occasional party with work associates before, like the one he’d caught me watching last year, but I’d never been allowed to go. Who had he even invited to the party tonight? All of my friends had left.

When I reached the living area, I stopped dead in my tracks.

The room had been transformed. The lights were low, casting long shadows over the sleek furniture. The air smelled faintly of something sweet and smoky, unfamiliar. And the guests—there were men everywhere, all dressed in tailored suits.

But that wasn’t what stopped me, a scream building in my throat, my blood running cold in my veins.

It was the fact that every single one of the men was disguised, dark and featureless, hiding their faces completely behind red masks. It was like I’d stepped into some kind of twisted masquerade.

I turned to run, but the doors had closed. When I looked around to find somewhere I could escape to, Everett was there, his mask in hand, a smile playing upon his lips.

“Everett?” I whispered in a scared, timid voice.

“Welcome to your after-party,” he purred, his voice low and smooth, almost too casual for the tension that filled the room. His eyes gleamed as he looked at me, and bile rose in my throat.

The men in the room shifted slightly, and I felt their eyes on me—beneath those crimson masks, watching, waiting. I swallowed hard, my skin prickling with the undeniable danger. My fingers were clenched into fists at my sides, but I was frozen, like a butterfly trapped in a jar.

“I don’t understand,” I breathed.

Everett took a step closer, his smile never wavering. “Don’t be nervous,” he said softly, although his tone held something deeper, something darker. “Tonight is… special .”

I glanced around the room again. The alcohol was still messing with my head. I folded my arms in front of me protectively, but when some of their eyes went to my chest, I immediately dropped them, realizing the movement had made my breasts stick out even more.

“This is it, Sloane,” Everett said. “Your moment.”

I turned to look at him, my stomach knotting. “What moment?”

He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. “To take control. To decide what your future will be.”

My brow furrowed.

He gestured toward the room, to the men still watching me like I was prey. “This is your chance,” he said, his voice like velvet. “If you choose to participate in the auction, you won’t have to worry. About anything. I know you’ve been terrified about what’s to come. You don’t have to be. I came up with a solution for you. I’m giving you another chance.”

The word auction hit me like a slap, and I took a step back, my pulse quickening. “What kind of auction—” I asked quietly, still trying to grasp what he meant.

“You’ll be entering a world of privilege, of wealth, of security,” he interrupted smoothly, his hand falling to my shoulder and tightening slightly. “Where you’re in charge. You won’t have to worry about money or your future. You’ll have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.”

I shook my head, the words refusing to settle. “I don’t—” I stammered, but he cut me off again.

“Remember the women you’ve seen at my parties? I know you’ve always admired them,” he said, his tone insistent now, coaxing. “Remember how they looked? How they moved through the room commanding attention, respect? They made the choice to be masters of their destiny, and now that you’re an adult, you can as well.”

My mouth went dry as I stared at the glittering scene before me, my mind flashing back to the way those women had seemed untouchable, powerful, radiant. But now the illusion cracked under the weight of my uncle’s words, the edges of their perfection fraying in my memory.

“Do you mean…those women are paid by those men? To…be with them?” I asked, finally starting to connect the dots.

“They know the power their beauty wields,” he said, his voice growing softer, like a whisper that wrapped around me. “And your beauty, Sloane…it’s even more magnificent than all of theirs.”

Everett’s words sent a shiver down my spine, his compliment and flattery hitting their mark. Even after two years, I still soaked it up like a dying flower desperate for water.

"You could be pampered. Wealthy. Never have to worry about supporting yourself. You can be one of the elite. Not many women get this chance."

I looked up at him, searching his face. He looked completely confident, like he believed this was my only option.

“I…” My voice faltered, my heart pounding so hard it felt like the room might hear it. “I don’t know. You…you want to put me up for sale in an auction?” I clarified, the words too horrifying to really be true. He had to mean something else.

I waited for him to deny it. To tell me I was putting his words together all wrong.

He didn’t.

“Me? No. I wouldn’t be doing anything. You would be choosing to put yourself in the auction. You’re an adult, Sloane.”

I shook my head, my ears thudding in time with my heart. “I couldn’t…”

“You don’t have a plan, Sloane. You have no job, no acceptance letters, no place to live. Once you graduate, you could end up on the streets. I’m giving you an incredible opportunity, and it’s just for the night.”

He smiled again, but it was victorious this time, like he already knew what my answer would be. Like he’d planned for every possible reaction, every protest. “You do know,” he said. “You’re just afraid. But fear is temporary. Power, Sloane…power lasts.”

I swallowed hard, my eyes darting back to the room. The men were watching, their gazes sharp even behind their masks. And somewhere in the middle of it all, I felt myself shrinking, folding in on the edges of who I thought I was.

Was this really control? Or was it the most beautiful lie I’d ever been told?

My uncle’s question hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. “What’s it going to be, Sloane?” he asked, his voice smooth and patient, like he had all the time in the world. But the weight behind it felt anything but patient. He was waiting for me to decide, his hand still resting lightly on my shoulder, anchoring me in place.

The room around me seemed to be shimmering at the edges. The laughter, the soft clink of glasses, the hungry looks of the men—all of it swirled together, threatening to drown me. Everett’s words played on a loop in my head. Privilege . Security . Control .

“What’s it going to be?” he repeated.

I looked at him, his face as calm and unreadable as ever, and then back at the glittering scene before me. My pulse pounded in my ears as the memories came flooding back, unbidden and overwhelming.

Again, I thought of my mother’s apartment, of the nights I’d gone to bed hungry because there hadn’t been enough food to go around. I thought of wearing the same clothes for days at a time, of the embarrassment when kids at school noticed. I thought of the foster homes, of being handed secondhand scraps and told I should be grateful.

The hollow ache of those memories clawed at my insides, filling me with a fear I could taste. I remembered the sting of shame, the bitterness of being powerless, of having nothing, of knowing there was no one in the world who cared whether I sank or swam. It would be like that again if I had to leave. I would have nowhere to live, no job…no car.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper. My uncle’s voice pulled me back to the present, soft and insistent. “You don’t have to go back to that, Sloane,” he said. “You don’t have to live that life. Not if you make the right choice.”

The right choice. I hated how his words sounded, like the decision had already been made, like I’d be a fool to refuse. But the truth was, I was afraid. I was terrified. Of being poor again. Of struggling, of never having enough. Of falling back into that pit I’d spent so much time trying to climb out of.

My hands trembled as I clenched them into fists, my nails biting into my palms. I stared at the room again, thinking of those women, at the way they seemed untouchable, invincible. I thought of how my uncle had described them: masters of their fate .

I grasped onto that. Because they had looked powerful. Beautiful. Like they were enjoying every glamoured second. It was a far cry from my other option of having nothing. I couldn't go back to that. I just couldn't. So even though my heart was pounding so hard I was having trouble breathing, I knew what I needed to choose.

My throat felt tight as I gave my answer. “Okay.”

“What was that?” my uncle asked, tilting his head slightly.

I forced myself to look at him, my voice trembling but a little louder this time. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

His smile was subtle, almost smug, as he gave a small nod. “Good girl,” he said, his tone smooth and satisfied, like I’d passed some kind of test. I couldn't help but feel relieved that I'd pleased him. “You’ve made the right choice, Sloane. You’ll see.”

I didn’t feel right, or powerful, yet. Right now, all I felt was hollow. But that would change. One day, when I wasn't so scared, I'd be more like those confident women…I hoped.

“Gentlemen, shall we begin?”

I glanced up at him, but he was staring around the room, a challenge in his gaze. “Sloane turned eighteen today. She is a certified virgin. Let’s start at three million,” he said casually, as if he were talking about stocks or cars or artwork…and not me.

Three million .

The words took a second to filter through my consciousness. Certified virgin ? I squeezed my eyes closed in embarrassment as I thought about the gynecologist appointment I’d had last week. I’d been having terrible cramps, and Everett had set me up with an appointment. The doctor had questioned me about my sexual history, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. I’d thought that was how they were supposed to go. I’d never dreamed the doctor would tell Everett.

The bodies shifted around the room, and there was a beat of silence. I wanted to run, but I made myself stay still. I’d made my choice.

“Three and a half,” one of the masked men said, his voice deep and calm, like this was just another night for him. Another game.

My skin felt too tight, like it didn’t belong to me anymore.

“Four.” Another voice called from across the room. It was a slow, deliberate drawl, tinged with amusement, like he was savoring the moment.

“Five million,” said a third. My legs shook beneath me, and I thought I might collapse. The numbers kept climbing—six, seven, eight million—and with each bid, the air grew heavier, suffocating.

Everett leaned in closer, one of his hands sliding from my shoulder to the small of my back. I flinched but still didn’t move, my pulse fluttering like a trapped hummingbird, its tiny wings beating faster and faster, desperate to break free. But I still couldn’t get myself to move. I was paralyzed.

He whispered in my ear, his voice smooth and almost affectionate. “It’s all for you, Sloane. You should feel honored. This…this is power.”

It didn’t feel like it. I felt like I was being torn apart, like everything inside me was breaking, unraveling with each new bid. This felt like something else. Like something dark and twisted that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But I wanted to be safe. I didn’t want to be homeless and penniless and alone. This was the only way.

“Ten million,” a voice called out, louder than the rest. The room stilled, completely silent except for the sound of someone gasping.

Oh, that was me. It was my ragged breaths filling the room. It was my heart racing so fast that it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

Everett’s grip tightened, and I could feel the smile on his lips, even though I couldn’t see it. He took a step forward, guiding me along with him. The masked men watched us, most of them leaning forward slightly, hungrily.

My knees buckled, and I stumbled forward, barely catching myself before I hit the ground. Everett grabbed my arm, his hand holding me tight.

“Going once,” Everett announced, his voice calm and controlled, like I hadn’t almost collapsed, like I wasn’t trembling under his touch. “Going twice.”

I sucked in a breath, forcing myself to stand straighter, even though my legs were shaking beneath me.

“Sold.”

The masked man who’d won stepped forward, grabbing my hand and immediately pulling me through the door into another guest suite. The door closed behind us, and the monster licked the side of my face as I was crowded against him, one arm wrapping around my chest as his other hand dragged up and down my body, cupping my core through my silk dress. Hot tears splashed on his arm, and he laughed cruelly.

“I’d easily pay twenty to have you, my sweet. It’s always better when they cry.”

And I did cry.

I cried when he ripped my dress from my shaking frame. I cried when he roughly violated me with his fingers and his mouth, and I cried when he pushed inside me.

When he was done with me, I stayed in that room, in that bed, and I stared out the window at a cloudless sky that was once again mocking me like it had that day my mother had been lowered into the ground.

All my tears had dried.

In the quiet aftermath of that terrible moment, when the world had finally gone still and the wreckage of everything I once knew lay scattered around me, I felt something inside me die. It wasn’t sudden, like the snap of a breaking bone; it was slow, like a flame choking beneath too much ash.

I’d been split open in ways I couldn’t even name, and the pieces that were left just didn’t fit anymore. My soul, once vibrant and full of those small, fragile hopes that had kept me moving forward through my mother’s addiction and death and the year of being passed from home to home like errant trash…it had dimmed to a flicker, barely there. It was as if the core of who I was had turned to glass—fragile, empty—and with every breath, more of it slipped away, leaving me hollow. The person I used to be was gone, lost in the quiet where there had once been life.

Now, there was only the ghost of who I had been, the power Everett had mentioned, nowhere to be found.

Maybe I hadn’t taken matters into my own hands and saved myself.

Maybe I’d destroyed myself instead.

But I’d chosen this…and there was no going back now.