THE WIDOW HE CLAIMED

CHAPTER ONE: ACTIONED FOR HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS

SAMANTHA'S POV

The room smelled of smoke, sweat and fear. Girls stood in a trembling line, naked and shaking under the yellow lamps above. Some cried silently. Some stared at the floor like their souls had already left their bodies. I stood among them with my hands over my breasts, my whole body trembling as two women walked down the line holding a long iron rod glowing red at the tip.

The Mutate mark.

I had heard stories about it all my life, whispered by mothers to scare children into obedience. A burning brand pressed into your skin with a special ink that made the mark glow faintly under certain lights. A mark that meant your life no longer belonged to you.

It meant you were owned.

I never thought I would ever see the Mutate iron in real life. Definitely not this soon. Definitely not today.

Just a few hours ago, I had been dancing in the palace court, spinning in my wedding gown, laughing with the single joy of becoming a new bride. I had been married to the kindest man I had ever known. I had been happy. Truly happy. My biggest fear that morning had been whether my veil was sitting straight.

Now I was naked in the dreaded Sanctuary.

And my husband was dead.

I still could not understand how my life had shattered in one single night. One moment I was in his arms, blushing at the way he said my nam3, the next i was here in the dreaded Sanctuary. I could still see the blood at the corner of his mouth. I could still hear myself screaming for him to wake up.

But widows did not cry for too long in Nocturne Haven. Widows were taken. Marked. Sold.

That was the law.

And today it had become my reality.

The two women reached me. They grabbed my arms and turned me around before I could think. My knees buckled. I could not even fight them. Exhaustion weighed down every part of me. My tears tasted like salt on my lips.

One of the women touched me between my legs, checking with a roughness that made me gasp.

She clicked her tongue.

“She is still a virgin.”

The other woman’s eyes lit up with greed.

“Yes she is.”

“Good. Very good. More money.”

They pushed me forward again. My heart hammered so loudly I could barely hear anything else. I felt like a lamb being dragged to a slaughterhouse. All my thoughts were tangled together, all fighting to be heard. What did they mean by more money? Who were they selling me to? Why was this happening to me?

Soon they shoved me into a massive hall filled with smoke, wine and laughter. Rich men sat around long tables draped in black cloth. They were dressed in dark robes, their gold rings gleaming as they held chalices and whispered among themselves. The music stopped the moment the girls were led in.

All eyes turned toward us.

Toward our naked bodies.

Toward our shame.

I wrapped my arms tightly around myself and bowed my head, but it only made me feel smaller, weaker, more exposed.

The Widow Collector appeared at the center of the stage. Everyone feared him. Everyone whispered his name with disgust, yet no one ever dared to confront him. He controlled the auctions. He controlled us.

He smiled as if we were goods and not women.

“Tonight we begin with Ruby. Her husband died today. Four years and nine months of marriage. She almost escaped the penalty.”

A wave of laughter filled the room.

Ruby stepped forward, crying silently. She looked older than me. More broken. When the men began bidding for her, her shoulders shook harder, but she did not fight. She simply accepted her fate like a woman who had already died inside.

“One thousand dollars.”

No one competed.

She was led away like a doll someone picked off a dusty shelf.

My stomach twisted.

If they could sell Ruby so easily, what would they do to me?

Then the hall went quiet. The Widow Collector raised his hand.

“For Samantha Vail. Her husband died on her wedding night.”

A sharp gasp cut through the crowd. Men whispered to one another. Several leaned forward in excitement.

The Collector continued.

“She is still a virgin.”

The murmurs turned into buzzing. A sickening thrill filled the air as if they enjoyed knowing that I had barely tasted love before being thrown here.

A guard shoved me forward. I stumbled out into the full light.

Naked. Shaking.

Humiliation wrapped around me like a second skin.

I could feel their eyes studying every part of me.

Judging the curve of my waist.

Calculating the price of my innocence.

“Going for ten thousand dollars.”

My heart dropped.

Ten thousand? For me?

“Hundred thousand dollars,” a voice growled.

I looked up. A man with a scar running down his cheek sat at the far end. He stared at me with hunger so raw it made bile rise to my throat.

The Collector’s eyes brightened.

“One hundred thousand dollars. Do we have more?”

Silence.

Then a calm, low voice drifted from the shadows.

“One hundred million.”

The entire hall froze.

My breath caught in my lungs. One hundred million? For me? No one had ever paid that much for anyone. Ever.

The scarred man glared toward the source of the voice. His jaw tightened.

“Three hundred million.”

My body shook.

Three hundred million.

The calm voice answered again.

“Four hundred million.”

Someone choked on his wine.

“Five hundred million,” the scarred man snapped.

The Collector clapped his hands like a child at a festival.

Then the calm voice rose one final time, steady and bored.

“Seven hundred million.”

The hall fell into complete silence.

The scarred man looked defeated.

The Widow Collector’s grin spread ear to ear.

The voice owner did not bother to stand or show himself fully. He simply sat in the shadows like the king of darkness he clearly was.

“Seven hundred million going once,” the Collector called.

My heart thudded painfully.

God please. Not him. Not whoever this man is.

Please do not let this happen to me.

“Going twice.”

My vision blurred with tears.

“Sold. For seven hundred million dollars.”

A pause.

“To Kane Draven.”

The name punched the air out of my lungs.

Kane Draven.

The man mothers warned daughters about.

The ghost king of Nocturne Haven.

A man who killed without blinking.

A man whose face no one looked at for too long.

A man whispered to be cursed.

And he had bought me.

For seven hundred million dollars.

My legs gave out but strong hands grabbed me and dragged me away. My tears fell fast and hot down my cheeks.

“Congratulations,” the older woman hissed in my ear.

“You have been bought.”

I shook my head, choking on sobs.

“No. No please. I am begging you. Let me go. I cannot go with him.”

She only laughed.

“Knew you would fetch a heavy price. Virgin bride. Young. Beautiful. Easy job for him.”

Another woman helped shove a dress over my body. It was thin and white like a sacrificial cloth.

The first woman leaned closer.

“Worst is you were bought by Kane Draven himself.”

I froze as she whispered the next words.

“The most brutal man in Nocturne Haven. I pity you.”

Grief, fear and confusion crashed over me all at once.

I could feel my heart breaking, piece by piece.

I could feel my future disappearing into darkness.

They pushed me toward a side door and locked me in a waiting chamber lit by one lonely candle.

I sat on the cold stone floor, hugging my knees to my chest.

My body hurt everywhere.

My soul hurt even more.

The door would open soon.

My master was coming.

Kane Draven.

The man who owned me now.

The man who had paid seven hundred million dollars for my life.

And there was no one left alive to save me.

Not even God.