Auctioned While Pregnant: 99 Nights Of My Husband’s Betrayal Chapter 04
The auctioneer looked at me, a cruel light in his eyes.
“Bidder 438 is bidding with no ceiling. She matches every offer in this room, no matter how high it goes. “
“Every part of her carries its own price, gentlemen,please check your programs. Every clause has a number. Bid accordingly.”
“Ms. Vance. Last chance. Do you match?”
“Match it,” I said.
In the back row, a paddle rose like a salute.
“Her lips,” the man licked his own lips. “Ten million. Let’s start there. I want to feel her mouth around my dick.”
My nails bit into my palms. Then I said, “Match it.”
“Her breasts. Both. Twenty even. ” A man just tapped two fingers on the table, bored, like he was ordering a drink.
“I’ve had softer and better, honestly. But I’m curious what a broken woman feels like.”
“Match it,” I said, my voice as cold as the grave.
“Her hips. Twenty-five. Wide enough to grab while I’m inside her. I like that.” He inclined his head at me like he was asking for a dance.
“Lady, take it easy, I’ll be a gentleman tonight, at least.”
“Match it.”
“Thighs, Fifty million. I want to feel them shake.”
I didn’t blink. “Match it.”
Somewhere past the fortieth round, the voices stopped belonging to faces.
It blurred. One bid bleeding into the next, voices overlapping like wolves fighting over a carcass.
Laughter. Wet and low and crawling under my skin.
Someone whistled. Someone clapped. Someone leaned over to his neighbor and said something that made them both look at me like I was already cut open on a table.
“Match it.” That was all I had left. Two words.
Every time I said them, something inside me frayed a little more, like thread pulling loose from a hem.
I looked at Julian. He had Claire tucked against him, his fingers tracing lazy circles at the base of her spine, like it was his habit.
When our eyes met, he smiled.
He bent toward Claire’s ear like he was telling her a secret. But there was nothing secret about it. His voice cut through the silence like it was meant for everyone:
“Satisfied, darling? That’s something no wedding gown could ever give you.”
She smiled. Not amused. Hungry.
She wanted to see exactly how much I could take before I broke.
It was the limit.
By the ninety-nine round, I couldn’t tell if I was still a human or just a machine that said “match it” when a paddle went up.
It was time to end this.
“Every line on the policy,” I said. My voice cut through the noise.
“All of it. Every part I have, priced at its ceiling. One hundred and eighty-six million dollars. That’s the whole of me, on the table, right now.”
The silence afterward had weight.
The auctioneer’s gavel froze mid-air. His voice shook. “You’re calling… the full policy?”
I leaned forward, palms flat on the table, staring down the monsters who’d spent a year owning my life.
“Scared?” The word sliced through the silence. “Or are you bastards only brave when the woman is blindfolded?”
Dead silence, still.
For a moment, no one breathed. No one blinked. Then the auctioneer moved.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Vance.” The auctioneer closed the insurance file with a final, heavy thud.
“The bid has exceeded your total coverage. Head to toe, every limb and organ you own only adds up to a hundred and fifty million. You’re short.”
He nodded toward the massive screen.
Ninety-nine rounds. The final bid flashed on the massive screen: $186 million.
He looked at me, a pitiful smirk on his lips. “You’re out of body parts to sell, Lena. You can’t match the price for your own freedom.”
“Pool it!”
A paddle shot up in the back, waving wildly. “Boys, let’s pool the cash! “
“A hundred and eighty-six million split ninety-nine ways. That’s less than two million a head! This is for all of us. The night is for all of us. And she—”
“She’s for all of us. Ninety-nine of us! Who’s in?”