Chapter 4
All of Silas’s so-called “brothers” at the auction eyed me like wolves scenting blood.
Their leers made my skin crawl.
Even with layers of expensive makeup on my face, I couldn’t mask the emptiness in my eyes or the pallor in my cheeks. My body was there—but I wasn’t.
Mira strutted up to me in her blood-red dress, lips curled in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Sister, you look stunning tonight. I bet half the room is dying to get their hands on you.”
The room burst into laughter.
Silas snorted and took a slow sip of his whiskey. “Her? Please. She clings to me like a parasite—I can't get her off me.”
Mira laughed right along with him, perfectly in sync. “I even heard she gave up her job for you, Silas. Oh—and didn't she get rid of that mutt she raised since childhood?”
Her words pierced like glass.
I remembered it all—how I’d fired the housekeeper because Silas claimed he had mysophobia, a fear of germs. I cooked, cleaned, scrubbed every surface until my hands bled—because he said that was the only way he could tolerate me.
I rehomed my dog—the one I’d had for ten years—because he said he was allergic to fur. And still, he looked at me like I was dirty. Like I wasn’t enough.
I’d poured scalding water on my own skin. Bled from my hands just to nurture his favorite orchids. All for his approval. All for love.
What a joke.
I set down my wine glass. “I need the restroom.”
Silas grabbed my wrist, hard. “What’s with the attitude? Someone’s talking to you.”
A guy nearby chuckled. “She’s probably pissed you’ve never touched her. How many years has it been now?”
Something in me snapped. “And what the hell does that have to do with you?”
Silas's slap came so fast I didn’t even register it until the sting burned across my cheek and the room spun.
He leaned in, voice low and venomous. “You want the truth? You’re tonight’s auction item.”
The words didn’t register at first.
Then, like a nightmare crashing down, I realized what he meant.
Two men in black suits seized me by the arms. One jabbed something into my waist.
A sharp sting. Colds are spreading fast.
“Don’t do this,” I whispered, grabbing Silas’s sleeve as my vision blurred. “Please… I’ll leave. I won’t cling to you anymore…”
He ripped his arm away like I’d infected him. “What are you crying about? Isn’t this what you wanted? A room full of men finally wanting you?”
Darkness swallowed me whole.
When I came to, I was in a cage. A literal iron cage—perched on a raised platform like an animal on display.
I had nothing on. Not even dignity.
Below, rows of men watched with hungry eyes. The room buzzed with their lust.
I screamed.
No one helped.
They only roared with more excitement.
“That’s Silas’s little wife up there,” one of them said. “Untouched. You all know what that means.”
“Starting bid: ten million.”
I lost it. Slammed my head against the cage floor again and again, blood dripping down my face.
I wanted to die.
I’d rather die.
Below, Silas’s expression turned stormy—but not with guilt. Just annoyance.
Beside him, Mira looked absolutely delighted. “Look at her, such a drama queen. She’s probably thrilled, deep down.”
Then, to everyone’s shock, Silas raised his bidding paddle.
“Twenty million.”
The room fell silent.
Mira blinked, confused. “What are you doing?”
His face didn’t change. “Ten million is too cheap. I want to buy Mira a new estate. She deserves the best.”
Mira relaxed, satisfied with his explanation.
Meanwhile, I was already fading out—blood loss, humiliation, and heartbreak pressing in from every side.
Then, through the haze, I saw her, a familiar figure entering the room.
Silas’s grandmother.
The powerful matriarch of the Creed family.
She lit a ceremonial sky lantern in the middle of the room. The crowd turned toward her, hushed.
Silas’s face turned ghostly pale. “Grandma? What are you doing here?”
Without a word, the elderly woman raised her hand—and slapped him. Hard.
The crack echoed.
“You are a ungrateful bastard,” she hissed. “I’m not dead yet. And you dare sell your wife like some street whore? You’re a disgrace to this family.”
She turned to me—then pulled out a folded paper.
A signed and sealed marriage dissolution agreement.
Signed by Silas.
He staggered backward, stunned. “W-What are you talking about?”
“I’m releasing Jovie,” Grandma Creed said coldly. “She’s free to go. As of now, your marriage is void.”
Panic set in on Silas’s face.
He spun around—eyes scanning the cage, the stage.
But I was gone.
Vanished.
He screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. “No! I’m not divorcing her! I’m not!”
But it was too late.
Because for the first time in years, I wasn’t his possession anymore.
I was finally free.
