The highest bidder turned out to be my stepbrother

Indigo

“Come on, baby. Wake up.”

I shook Lila’s shoulder gently. She whined, pushed my hand away, and rolled deeper into the mattress. I glanced at the time again. A little after four in the morning. If we did not leave now, we would miss the bus. And missing the bus meant staying longer than we could afford.

“Lila. Come on,” I whispered urgently, shaking her again, softer this time.

She finally pried her eyes open, her face scrunched with sleep and confusion.

“Mama?” she murmured, rubbing at her eyes as she slowly sat up.

I turned back to packing, shoving whatever I thought we might need into boxes and bags, discarding the rest without looking back. There was no time for second thoughts.

“Come,” I said. “Get your box from the shelf in the hallway. Quickly.”

She moved too slowly for my liking.

“Where are we going?” she asked, dragging her feet as she climbed down from the bed.

“To your father,” I answered, struggling to close one of the boxes. It refused to cooperate. I groaned, kicked it aside, and moved on to the next.

“My father?” Her voice sharpened with shock. “But you said he was dead.”

I shot her a look, irritation bubbling in my chest, not at her question but at the ticking clock.

“I say a lot of things, baby. You know that.”

I rushed to the drawer, scooping up jewelry and shoving it into a small pouch. Things I could sell. Things I never thought I would need to trade for survival. It was not much, but it was something.

“Mama,” Lila pleaded softly.

I stopped. Turned. The sight of her trembling lip and glassy eyes cut straight through me. I sighed and crouched in front of her, taking her small hands into mine.

“You trust me, don’t you?” I asked quietly.

She hesitated, then nodded, sniffing.

“You know I would never let anything happen to you, right?”

Another nod.

“Then trust me when I say we have to leave, Lila. If we do not, dangerous people are going to find us. I do not want you in danger. Please, baby.”

She pressed her lips together. Even at eight years old, her emotions were written clearly on her face. She did not take after me in that way. Where I learned to hide everything, Lila felt everything. I could see the questions forming, the fear, the resistance. But she also knew when I was serious.

Reluctantly, she nodded and went to retrieve her box.

I kept packing, forcing my hands to move while my heart screamed at me to stop and think. We were not taking much, but nearly everything in this house held a memory. I shoved those thoughts away and focused only on speed.

Lila worked quietly beside me. Dresses in one box. Toys in another. Books neatly placed in her school bag. Before I could even complain, she was done, standing there with effort written all over her small body.

“You did so good, Lila,” I said, pulling her into a tight hug. My hands trembled as I kissed her forehead.

“Do you need my help, mummy?” she asked.

I smiled tightly. “No, baby—”

The sound cut through the air like a gunshot.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

I froze. Lila jumped in my hands.

My eyes widened. My pulse roared in my ears. I stood quickly and rushed to the window, grateful I had turned the lights off the night before. From the darkness, I pushed the curtain aside just enough to see.

A car sat outside. Two men stood beside it, dressed in dark suits.

My heart dropped straight into my stomach.

The banging came again, harder this time, rattling the door in its frame.

“I know you are in there, Indie,” a man called out, his voice almost playful. “Open the door or I will break it down.”

The truth of his words settled heavily in my chest.

I collapsed to my knees, breath leaving me in shaky bursts. Lila rushed to me immediately, her small hands warm as they grabbed onto mine. I forced a trembling smile, even as tears burned behind my eyes.

Looking at her face—so much like someone I had loved and lost—I knew there was no room for fear now. I had to be strong. For her.

“Listen to me, baby,” I said softly, keeping my voice steady even as another bang shook the door.

“We need to be very quiet, okay? We are going to go into your toy house. Your favorite place. We will stay down there and stay calm and quiet.”

“Mama,” she whispered. “What is happening? Are we in trouble?”

My heart broke cleanly in two, but I shook my head and smiled.

“No, sweetheart. We are not in trouble. We just need to hide for a little while until the bad men go away. That is all.”

She nodded, squeezing my hand tightly.

Together, we tiptoed toward the toy house. It was not really a toy house, just a small basement space my best friend had built for Lila’s fifth birthday. It held her toys and had enough room for two people if they stayed close.

We hid our bags quickly and climbed inside, careful and silent.

Down there, we heard everything.

Men moving through the house. Furniture being shoved. Glass breaking. Angry voices muttering curses.

Then the man spoke again, louder this time.

“Search the whole place,” he ordered. “Leave no corner untouched. They could not have gone far.”

I wrapped my arms tightly around Lila, holding her close as her small body trembled against mine.

And all I could think was—

Please. Please do not find us.

The footsteps grew louder, heavier, scraping against the floor above us, and with every sound my fear deepened. Lila was strong. My poor baby did not even tremble once. She stayed pressed against me, breathing softly, trusting me in a way that almost broke me.

But I was terrified.

I stopped caring about myself eight years ago, the moment I held her in my arms for the first time. My life had ended then, reshaped itself around hers. All that mattered was her safety. Because once they took me, she would suffer. And I could not let her suffer. I would not.

If they searched properly, they would find our packed bags. They would know immediately that we were trying to run. That we had planned to disappear. There would be no mercy after that.

“Mama?” Lila whispered, her small voice barely cutting through the noise.

“Yes, pumpkin,” I answered, tightening my hold on her.

“What will the bad guys do when they find us?”

My throat closed. I pulled her closer, pressing my cheek to her hair, breathing her in like she was the only air I had left. I needed her calm. I needed her to believe we would survive this. All we had to do was get through today.

“You remember that story about the tortoise and his best friend,” I said softly, choosing the easiest path, the one she understood best.

She nodded against me. Stories were her safe place.

“When they took food that wasn’t theirs and got caught,” I continued. “Do you remember what happened to them?”

She lifted her head, eyes bright despite everything. “They were taken to prison,” she said slowly, “and they were starved for many nights and days.”

“Yes, pumpkin,” I said, my voice steady even as my heart shattered. “That might be us when they take us. We might not see food for many nights and days.”

Her eyes dimmed instantly, and guilt clawed through me. She was only eight. She should be worrying about school and toys, not men who broke doors down.

“But listen to me,” I added quickly. “Mummy would rather starve than let anything happen to you. I promise.”

She nodded and rested her head back on my chest, trusting me again. I listened for voices, for movement, for anything that told me whether we were still hidden or already lost.

Time stretched. Hope flickered, thin and fragile.

Then a sound cut through the silence.

Whistling.

Slow. Careless. Close.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs as the whistling grew louder, nearer, until suddenly the basement door burst open with a violent crash. I shot to my feet instantly, shoving Lila behind me, my body shielding hers without thought.

A man descended the steps, his movements unhurried, a proud smirk fixed on his face like he had won something.

“You foolish little thief,” he drawled, strolling closer.

“I didn’t steal anything,” I said, forcing strength into my voice even as my hands shook.

He laughed. “You are a liar too, I see.”

He turned his head slightly. “Boys,” he called over his shoulder, calm and satisfied. “We caught our little thief.”

Two large men rushed in, their presence filling the room, crushing what little air was left. I turned and wrapped Lila tightly in my arms as she began to cry. I was crying too, silent tears sliding down my face as I rocked her gently, whispering nonsense words meant to soothe her even as my world fell apart.

I turned back to the man. “Please,” I begged, my voice breaking. “Let me drop my daughter with a friend. You can do anything you want to me, but she doesn’t deserve this.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think, then shook it once. “No.”

I collapsed to my knees.

“Please!” I screamed. “Your boss doesn’t hurt children. Let me just drop her with—”

“I don’t trust a word that comes out of your mouth, Indigo,” he snapped. “You are a thief, a liar, and a fucking betrayal. Why should I grant you anything?”

I crawled toward him on my knees, all pride gone, all sense gone. Nothing mattered anymore except her.

“Because you understand me, Steve,” I pleaded, saying his name. He blinked, clearly surprised. “You know I did what I did to survive. You can’t fault me for that.”

He stayed silent.

“Let me take her somewhere safe,” I begged again, sobbing openly now. “Please.”

Lila’s cries filled the room, sharp and painful. Steve watched us for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, finally, he sighed and nodded once.

“Whoever you’re calling,” he said. “They come here.”

Relief crashed into me so hard it made me dizzy. I rushed back to Lila, lifting her into my arms, holding her like I might never let go.

“Bring them upstairs,” Steve ordered his men.

And just like that, the last fragile hope I had shattered.

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