Smile like I belong. Walk like I’ve done this a thousand times before.
No matter what it costs me.
The house—no, the estate—rises out of the darkness like something out of a dream twisted into a nightmare.
It’s massive.
Columns flank the entrance like sentinels, carved marble gleaming under the soft wash of floodlights. The driveway is lined with luxury cars, each one more expensive than the last. Even the air smells like money and power and rot.
I step out of the car and adjust my cufflinks, heart pounding beneath the crisp fabric of my shirt.
A few other men approach the entrance with me—well-dressed, silent, practiced.
Predators in tailored suits.
I recognise two of them from the last auction. One gives me a nod, the kind that says, ‘We’re the same.’ I nod back, because I have to. Because tonight, I’m wearing the mask. But on the inside, I’m burning.
The guards at the door barely glance at my ID before waving me through. Inside, the air is cooler, scented with expensive cologne and polished wood.
A chandelier the size of a car hangs above the grand foyer, casting fractured light across the marble floor.
Laughter echoes from deeper inside—low, indulgent, knowing, which only raises my hackles.
I walk through it all like I belong here.
But every step I take, I’m counting the exits.
Every face I pass, I’m memorising.
And every second that ticks by, I’m thinking of Nell.
The hallway opens into a vast reception room, all velvet drapes and gold trim, like some twisted palace. Waiters in black vests glide between guests with silver trays, offering champagne and canapés like this is just another gala. But beneath the surface—beneath the silk and smiles—there’s something rotten. You can feel it in the air. Like the house itself knows what’s about to happen.
I keep my expression neutral, my posture relaxed. Just another man with money and appetite. Just another buyer.
A man with slicked-back hair and a diamond-studded watch approaches, his grin too wide to be friendly.
“Didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” he says, voice smooth and oily. “Last time, you looked like you’d never been to one of these before.”
I force a chuckle. “You’d be surprised how quickly a man adapts.”
He claps me on the shoulder in a way that’s far too familiar. “That’s the spirit. They’ve got some real gems tonight. One of them’s barely even broken in.”
He winks, and I feel bile rise in my throat. But I nod, because I have to. Because I need to stay invisible.
A woman in a crimson gown catches my eye from across the room. She’s standing near the staircase, watching everything with a predator’s stillness. She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t blink. Just watches.
I don’t know who she is, but I know better than to underestimate her.
A bell chimes once—clear and commanding, and in response the room quiets.
A man in a white tuxedo steps onto the landing above the staircase, arms spread like a conductor.
“Gentlemen,” he says, voice echoing through the chamber. “Welcome. The auction will begin shortly. Please make your way to the viewing hall.”
The crowd begins to move, slow and eager.
I fall in line like the rest, heart pounding, every step taking me closer to the darkness.It’s all for her, I keep reminding myself.
