The Gilded Trap

Sophie awoke to the soft rustling of fabric and the faint murmur of voices. The damp, cold room she had first been thrown into was gone, replaced by a lavishly furnished bedroom. The walls were draped in heavy silk curtains, the floor covered with plush rugs, and the air scented with roses. It was almost enough to make her believe she'd dreamed the horrors of the night before.

But as she sat up, reality struck. Her wrists were no longer bound, but a faint red mark on her skin reminded her of the ropes that had held her. A heavy knock on the door startled her, and before she could respond, it swung open.

A woman entered, dressed in a sleek black gown, her heels clicking on the polished floor. Her face was sharp, her eyes cold and calculating. Sophie instinctively shrank back, sensing the authority she exuded.

"Good evening, ladies," the woman said, her voice smooth but devoid of warmth. Sophie realized there were others in the room, young women like her, all dressed in elegant gowns that didn't quite fit.

"What's going on?" Sophie demanded, her voice trembling.

The woman smirked, her red lips curling upward. "You've been chosen for a very special event. Consider yourselves… valuable assets."

"Chosen for what?" another woman in the room asked, her voice shaking with fear.

The woman ignored the question, instead motioning for them to follow. Guards flanked the doorway, their presence a silent warning against disobedience. Sophie hesitated but knew she had no choice.

They were led through a sprawling mansion, its opulence overwhelming. Chandeliers sparkled above, their golden light casting a glow over the marble floors. As they walked, Sophie's stomach churned. This wasn't a rescue. It was something far darker.

They were brought to a grand dining hall where a feast awaited—silver platters of food, crystal goblets of wine. It looked like a dream, but the atmosphere was suffocating. The women sat quietly, glancing at each other with wary eyes as they ate, the guards never straying far from their sides.

Once the meal ended, they were escorted into a ballroom that rivaled the grandeur of a royal palace. Wealthy men and women mingled, their laughter and chatter filling the space. Sophie felt like a lamb among wolves, their gazes lingering on her and the other women.

The woman in black took the stage at the far end of the room, her commanding presence silencing the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, her voice carrying effortlessly through the room. "Tonight, we present to you the finest selection. Each of these women is unique, a rare treasure. Your bids will secure not only beauty but exclusivity."

Sophie's blood ran cold as the realization hit her. This was an auction. They were being sold.

As the crowd erupted into applause, Sophie clenched her fists, her heart pounding with fear and rage. She scanned the room, her mind racing. How could she escape? Could she rally the other women?

The woman in black smirked, her eyes scanning the terrified faces of her "merchandise." "Let the bidding begin."

Sophie's nightmare had only just begun, and the gilded trap they had crafted was about to close around her.

The Call

In a sleek, modern office overlooking the city, Lucien Marchand sat behind a massive oak desk, his sharp features illuminated by the glow of his computer screen. Known simply as "The Boss" in his circles, Lucien was a man of power and precision, his presence commanding respect wherever he went.

The phone on his desk buzzed, interrupting his train of thought. He answered without looking, his tone clipped. "Speak."

A familiar voice came through the line, smooth but cautious. "Mr. Marchand, there's an event tonight at the Châtelet Mansion. Exclusive gathering. I thought it might interest you."

Lucien leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Why would it?"

The caller hesitated for a moment, then spoke carefully. "Let's just say... the selections tonight are unparalleled. You might find something—or someone—that suits your tastes."

Lucien's brow arched, his curiosity piqued. He rarely attended such events, finding them tiresome, but the implication in the caller's tone was clear. This wasn't just any gathering; it was something extraordinary.

"Send the details," Lucien said after a pause, his voice low. "I'll consider it."

"Yes, sir," the voice replied quickly. "I'll have a car ready for you at eight."

The call ended, and Lucien set the phone down, his fingers drumming lightly on the desk. Whatever this party was, it had better be worth his time.

The Auction Begins

The grand ballroom buzzed with anticipation as the crowd gathered near the stage, their murmurs a blend of excitement and greed. The lights dimmed slightly, and the woman in black, now the evening's host, took center stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began with a poised smile, her voice dripping with authority, "thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight. Behind these curtains, you will find the finest selection of elegance and beauty. Each woman is unique—a true gem waiting to be claimed."

The room erupted into applause, and the heavy curtains parted to reveal a line of young women, dressed in extravagant gowns. Their faces were pale, their eyes darting nervously across the sea of wealthy spectators.

"Shall we begin?" the host continued, stepping aside. "Lot one—Camille. Twenty-three. Fluent in four languages and poised like a queen."

Camille stepped forward hesitantly, her head held high despite the tremble in her hands. Whispers spread through the crowd as paddles shot up.

"Five million!" a voice called from the left.

"Six!" shouted another.

The bidding war escalated, and Camille was quickly ushered offstage, replaced by another woman, then another. Each introduction brought a wave of eager offers, the audience clamoring to outdo one another.

Sophie stood at the end of the line, her heart pounding as she watched the frenzy unfold. She felt the weight of dozens of eyes assessing her, their hunger palpable. She clenched her fists, her mind racing.

And then the host's voice rang out again. "And now, our most exquisite offering of the evening…"

The Highest Bid

Lucien Marchand entered the ballroom with an air of quiet dominance, his presence drawing immediate attention. Clad in a tailored black suit, he scanned the opulent room with disinterest—until his gaze landed on the stage.

There she was.

Sophie stood at the far end of the lineup, her delicate frame illuminated by the chandeliers above. Her wide, fearful eyes and trembling hands struck something deep within Lucien. It wasn't just her beauty; it was her uncanny resemblance to Amélie, the woman he had loved and lost years ago.

His chest tightened as memories of Amélie flooded back. He hadn't planned on buying anyone tonight, but this was different. Sophie was different.

The host's voice rang out, commanding the room. "Our final and most enchanting treasure of the evening—Sophie. Twenty-four. A vision of grace and beauty."

The room erupted in murmurs as Sophie stepped forward, her shimmering gown clinging to her like a second skin. Men leaned forward, their eyes gleaming with greed and desire.

"Ten million!" one man shouted.

"Twelve!" another countered almost immediately.

Sophie's heart pounded as the numbers rose. She closed her eyes, silently praying. Please… don't let anyone buy me. Please.

The bidding war intensified, voices overlapping in a cacophony of wealth and entitlement. Lucien remained silent, his dark eyes never leaving Sophie. When the bidding hit twenty million, the room fell quiet, waiting for the next move.

Lucien rose to his feet, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Fifty million."

Gasps rippled through the room. The host's composure faltered for a moment before she regained her polished smile. "Fifty million from Mr. Marchand. Do I hear more?"

Silence. No one dared challenge him. Lucien's reputation preceded him—not just his wealth, but his power.

"Sold!" the host declared, her voice ringing with finality. "To Mr. Lucien Marchand."

Sophie's knees nearly buckled as the reality sank in. She had been sold. Lucien stepped forward, his gaze locking with hers. For a moment, she thought she saw something other than cold indifference in his eyes—something softer, almost protective.

But all Sophie felt was despair.