Chapter 6: Starting Bid — One Dollar

Serena's POV

"I told you not to come." His voice was laced with suppressed anger.

I stopped and looked him up and down. "Then what are you doing here?"

Asher turned his face away, avoiding my gaze, and spat out two words through gritted teeth: "Watching dogs."

I took a step forward, closing the distance between us—close enough that I could see every muscle in his body tense up instantly.

I tilted my head slightly upward, meeting his eyes, which had widened with tension.

"Is that so?" My voice was soft, carrying a trace of mockery. "Because right now, you look more like the dog who's afraid someone else is going to steal his owner."

"You fucking—"

Asher instinctively reached for my wrist, but I'd already stepped back gracefully, turning toward the auditorium entrance.

"Be a good boy and wait outside, Captain."

I didn't look back, just raised my hand in a little wave. Behind me came the dull thud of Asher's foot slamming into a tire.

I smiled and pushed open the doors to the charity auction.

Inside, tables were laden with champagne and macarons, and men and women in expensive gowns and suits clustered in small groups.

The so-called "

Charity Night" was supposedly for raising funds for an orphanage, but in reality it was just another social game for the upper class—a chance for these spoiled rich kids to show off their wealth and draw their little circles of power.

I'd barely picked up a glass of sparkling water when a lazy voice drifted over from behind me. "I thought I was seeing things.

Have the Kincaid bills really left you desperate enough to come to something like this?"

I turned around. Tristan Sterling stood there holding a glass of whiskey, looking at me with an amused smirk.

He was the student council president at Blackwood University and the sole heir to the Sterling family fortune.

His family had done business with the Kincaids for years—long enough for him to know exactly how far I'd fallen.

Tonight he wore a white shirt with the tie loosened carelessly, sleeves rolled up to his forearms—the picture of arrogant superiority.

"Mr. Sterling," I said evenly.

His gaze swept brazenly from my collarbone down to the hem of my dress before he gave a light snort.

"Dressed like that, Serena—don't tell me you're here tonight to fish for some sucker willing to pay off your debts?"

"And if I said yes?"

I took a sip of sparkling water and smiled. "Would Mr. Sterling be interested in signing up?"

Tristan paused, apparently not expecting such a direct answer. Then the mockery in his eyes deepened. "I don't waste money on fakes."

I nodded approvingly. "Very sound investment philosophy."

Just then, the microphone on stage crackled to life.

The auction was officially beginning. The first few items were boring—a private dinner with some professor, a dance with some socialite.

Then the host announced the next segment.

"And now, we have our special volunteer section.

The winning bidder will receive one hour of private companionship from our volunteer.

And of course, to thank our volunteers for their contribution, thirty percent of the final bid will go directly to the volunteer as compensation."

A knowing ripple of laughter ran through the crowd.

Everyone knew this was the real main event of the evening—rich kids using money to buy time with pretty girls, all under the respectable veneer of charity.

It was nothing more than a legalized money game.

"Serena!"

Chloe had somehow made her way to the host's side and was holding the microphone, looking at me with bright expectation. "Serena used to be so good at socializing.

If it's her, I'm sure she could raise tons of money for the orphanage, right?" Chloe blinked innocently. "Serena, would you be willing to donate one hour of your time for those poor orphans?"

Every eye in the room turned to me.

What a clever trap.

If I refused, I was cold-hearted and unwilling to help orphans.

If I agreed, I was commodifying myself, putting a price tag on my body and standing on stage to be picked over by anyone with money.

Tristan stood beside me, swirling his whiskey, and lowered his voice.

"Looks like your dear sister really wants to see you get price-tagged. Need me to lend you some money so you can leave with dignity?"

"No need." I set down my water glass and, under Tristan's astonished gaze, lifted my skirt and walked calmly onto the stage. I stepped up beside Chloe and took the microphone from her hand.

"Of course I'm willing,"

I said, smiling at the crowd. "It's my honor to contribute to charity." A flash of triumph crossed Chloe's eyes as she stepped aside.

The host immediately perked up with excitement.

"Wonderful! One hour of private companionship with the former queen of Blackwood University, Miss Serena! Starting bid, one thousand dollars! Do I have any takers?"

The room went quiet for a few seconds.

The boys who used to orbit around me exchanged glances, but none dared to be the first to raise a paddle—after all, I was now the discarded daughter of the Kincaid family.

Then Tristan slowly raised his bidding paddle.

"One dollar."

The host froze mid-gesture, clearly caught off guard.

He opened his mouth as if to correct the bid, but one glance at Tristan's face—and the Sterling name behind it—made him swallow whatever objection he'd been about to voice.

The room fell silent for a heartbeat, then erupted in roaring laughter.

"One dollar? Ha ha ha, Sterling's so savage!"

"One dollar for the former Kincaid princess—now that's a bargain!"

"She's not even worth the starting price anymore."

I stood on stage, smiling sweetly at Tristan.

He leaned back in his chair, raised his glass to me, his eyes full of malicious satisfaction.

He wanted to see me humiliated, wanted to see me cry and run off the stage.

There was a commotion at the entrance—the sound of someone pushing past the door attendant.

From the corner of my eye I saw Asher forcing his way into the room, his face livid, fists clenched, looking ready to charge at Tristan.

I immediately caught his eye and gave a small shake of my head. Asher bit down hard, forcing himself to stop where he stood.

I turned my attention back and lifted the microphone.

The laughter was still echoing through the hall, but I let it wash over me without flinching.

I scanned the crowd slowly, taking in the eager, mocking faces—the same people who used to hang on my every word at Kincaid garden parties.

Eighteen years of training hadn't been for nothing. I knew exactly who was struggling, who was desperate, and who could be turned.

"One dollar."

I said, my voice steady and clear. "Mr. Sterling has bid one dollar."

I looked at Tristan. "For someone who's lost the Kincaid name, that price does seem quite reasonable."

"But."

I continued, my tone shifting as my gaze swept slowly across the room, "what if I'm not selling some boring companionship? What if I'm selling the premium social resources that the Kincaid family spent eighteen years and countless millions of dollars cultivating?"

I looked toward a boy sitting in the second row.

"Jeason. Last month you failed your midterm and your father cut off all your credit cards, didn't he?"

The boy named Jeason shrank back awkwardly in his seat.

I continued. "I know which foundation your father values most, and I know what vintage of cigars the chairman of that foundation prefers. Buy my hour, and I won't just help you write a perfect apology letter—I'll teach you how to casually help your father make that connection at tomorrow night's cocktail party. Want to bet whether your father, once he's pleased, might double your trust fund allowance?"

Jeason's eyes lit up instantly, his breathing quickening.

I shifted my gaze to another direction. "Marcus. You've been dying to get into that top-tier East Coast yacht club, haven't you?" Marcus straightened in his seat.

"Buy my hour."

I said, dangling the bait with a smile, "and I'll tell you which salon the club president's wife has afternoon tea at every Wednesday, and what color clothing she absolutely hates seeing people wear. Win her over, and you'll have your membership invitation by next month."