Husband secretly auctioned off my first night, he went crazy after I ran away

Three years into our marriage, Silas Creed still insisted I take scalding hot showers before he so much as touched me.

Not warm. Not hot. Boiling.

He said it was because of his mysophobia—his obsession with cleanliness. But the truth left physical proof all over my body. Burn scars. Blisters. Red, peeling skin.

It was the only way to make myself “pure” enough to share the same air as him.

Or so I thought.

That night, my fingers brushed his hand by accident. A fleeting touch.

But he didn’t recoil.

He didn’t lash out or scrub himself raw.

For a moment, I stupidly thought something had changed. Maybe he was finally healing. Maybe we could finally share a bed like a real couple.

But the truth?

That night, Silas put my virginity up for sale—on the goddamn dark web.

I found out from the surveillance system I’d secretly installed a week ago. I’d linked it directly to my phone for his safety. At least, that’s what I told myself.

But safety was the last thing I discovered.

On the screen, Silas sat surrounded by his inner circle, his friends, his brother, his shadows. They were laughing, drinking, speaking like I wasn’t a person, like I was nothing more than a bothersome stain on his perfect little life.

“She touched me,” Silas muttered bitterly, spraying alcohol up and down his arm like he was trying to burn away my fingerprints. “Right where Mira used to hold me. Disgusting.”

“That Jovie Ryland’s got some nerve,” his brother chimed in, tone righteous and cold. “Mira worked so hard to come back and win you over again, and that woman just had to ruin it. Doesn’t she know Mira hates her smell?”

Someone else laughed crudely. “Yeah, she said it reeks of poverty and desperation.”

Silas sneered. “I’ve trained her to go vegetarian, just to make her a little cleaner.”

“And don’t forget,” another voice added with a cruel chuckle, “she’s been using her own blood to nourish that mandala flower Mira gave her. That’s dedication.”

My stomach twisted.

The mandala… the very flower that sat on the balcony next to my yoga mat. The one that had been my only companion on the nights wasn’t allowed inside. I used to think it was a kind gesture from Mira Quinn—Silas’s ex. I knew better.

“She’s always so damn needy,” he added darkly. “Clinging to me like some desperate little parasite.”

One of the men grinned. “Then why not give her what she wants, Silas? Maybe you’ll shut her up.”

The table erupted in laughter.

A moment later, the glass shattered.

Silas’s voice sliced through the noise. “Laugh all you want, but if any of this gets back to Mira, you’ll all answer to me.”

They went silent.

Then, almost thoughtfully, he began sanitizing his hands again.

“She wants a man so bad?” he said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Let’s give her one. Hell, let’s give her ten.”

No one spoke.

Then he pulled out his phone and smiled.

"Let’s auction off her first night."

The room exploded in cheers and cruel suggestions.

“Make it public!”

“Old perverts love untouched women.”

“That hag should be honored to have anyone touch her at all!”

Silas’s voice cut through them all like velvet over steel. “Two days from now, at the Seaside Jewelry Auction. Let’s make it a night to remember. Bring your wallets, boys.”

The footage ended.

The screen on my phone went black.

I sat frozen, skin cold as ice, despite the boiling showers I’d endured for years. My fingers trembled. My heart raced in my chest like a cornered animal.

I had spent three years believing it was all about his phobia.

I thought his revulsion came from some broken part of him, something he couldn't control. Every time he touched me, his body tensed, his skin crawled, and he’d hiss through gritted teeth, “You’re filthy. Too much dirt on you.”

I’d believed it.

Because I’d wanted to.

I thought I was beneath him—that the Creed family’s lifestyle was too refined for someone like me. I’d tried to be better. Cleaner. More acceptable.

I’d boiled myself until I could barely breathe from the pain. I’d starved myself to the bone to meet his expectations. I’d slept on a thin yoga mat on the balcony during storms, while his precious flower sat untouched beside me.

And all of it… every last bit… was because of Mira.

The woman who left him when his family was broke, then came crawling back once I rebuilt their empire—with my money.

I gave him everything. My body. My inheritance. My dignity.

In return, he auctioned me off like a piece of meat.

I looked out the window at the mandala flower blooming in the night, lit by the cold glow of the moon.

I dialed a number I never thought I’d use.

“Grandma,” I said softly when the other line picked up. My voice was calm. Too calm. “Do you remember the promise you made me the day I married Silas?”

There was silence on the other end.

“You said if it ever got too much, if he ever crossed the line… you’d give me a way out. A real one. You still have that contract, don’t you?”

Still no answer.

So I gave her a reason to come.

“There’s a jewelry auction in two days,” I added with a brittle smile. “They’ll be showing one of your favorite pieces. You should come, Grandma. I have a feeling it’s going to be… unforgettable.”