Owned by the Billionaire's Secret

"I'm sorry but we'd have to put a hold on your father's treatment due to the lack of financial support we're getting from you..."

The voice on the phone became more distant just like how my father was from the brink of life.

"Miss Grey are you still there?" I realized I had still left my phone on call. I rub my forehead.

"Yes, I am. I'm working on it, please. I just need more time."

"I'm just doing my job and being reasonable but your father's illness doesn't negotiate with persons. Time isn't on both sides. Have a goodnight, Miss Grey."

I slept off, rather, after trying to out my troubling thoughts to rest, I slept. Morning came with a beautiful smile of the sun gleaming through my room curtain, spilling its beautiful sunlight. I jerk up and yawn carelessly.

I walk to my room window to find my mailbox slightly open. A frown forms up on my face. I make my way down to my small living room space and grabbed a coffee after which I went to check my mailbox that's been empty since my dad got ill. Yeah, it's been a year now.

It was a white envelope with a fancy purple ribbon. I look around my surroundings before heading inside. My back against my door incase it was something...I don't know. I was curious and so I tore it open and read its content. A fucking invitation!

At first, I thought it was a burial invitation since people always ended up dead around me. I realized it was an invitation to an exclusive auction. I was dumbfounded and puzzled. That mailman must have gotten the wrong address. I looked down to see my name etched on it. Isabella Grey, written with a beautiful ink. I smile.

Oh sweet heavens! Who could be behind this? While I was wrapping my head around it all, a knock on my door brought me back from my thoughts. I walked to it and opened it to see a delivery man, I guess.

"Miss Grey, huh?" He asks with a box on the floor beside him and a notepad and pen in his hand. He wasn't looking at me.

I replied, "yes but I didn't order anything, sir."

"Courtesy of a generous..." he looks up at me now, smiling with his weird mustache which I amusingly found attractive in a way. "Individual." He picks is it and hands it over after I had signed.

"Okay." He had already started walking back the delivery truck when he turned back like he had forgotten something.

"Oh, I forgot, don't be late." He adjusts his cap and closes the distance between him and the delivery truck.

I shake my head and walk back into my dad's house. I pick up the invitation again and the time I had surprisingly missed. I can't be late to an exclusive charity auction.

I run upstairs to my room and raided my wardrobe looking for what to wear to look presentable. In Queens, no matter how much you dress, someone would always make you feel under dressed.

Shit! The package, maybe something that would help would be inside, I thought to myself. I ran down the stairs, again to discover clothing and everything I would need. I sigh feeling relieved.

It's an hour to evening already and the auction has been expensively awestruck. I mean, I'm in the midst of the wealthiest and most prominent people in all of Queens. I still couldn't tell who's behind this all but I remained reserved and hopeful I would get to thank this... individual.

The room we're in is basked in beautiful lights, The ballroom shimmered with golden light, the chandeliers casting elegant reflections across polished marble floors.

Everywhere I turned, there were people-wealthy, poised, effortlessly commanding the room in their designer gowns and tailored suits. Laughter and polite conversation hummed in the background, blending with the soft strains of a violin quartet.

Waiters weaved through the crowd, offering champagne and delicacies that probably cost more than some people's monthly salaries. My fingers tightened around the stem of my glass as I glanced at the stage, where priceless art, rare jewelry, and luxury experiences awaited the highest bidder.

This world, with its whispered deals and carefully measured smiles, was as dazzling as it was suffocating. And tonight, I wasn't just another guest. I was here for a purpose-one that had nothing to do with charity and everything to do with survival-I'm one out of many to be auctioned out to work for one of these wealthy individuals.

The room felt impossibly small, despite the vast expanse of the gilded ballroom. Every eye was on me. Some were appraising, others calculating, and some-too many-were filled with something darker, something possessive. The air was thick with anticipation, the weight of obscene wealth pressing against my skin like a brand.

I lifted my chin, refusing to shrink beneath their scrutiny. I wasn't just a number to be called out like an object on display. But in this moment, that's exactly what I was.

The auctioneer's voice rang out, smooth and assured.

"Our final offering of the evening. Exquisite beauty, striking intelligence, and a presence unlike any other. A rare opportunity, gentlemen."

I gritted my teeth at the words, my fingers curling into my palms.

Then, the bidding began.

"Five hundred thousand."

"Seven-fifty."

"One million."

It shot up like wildfire, numbers I couldn't even fathom being tossed out as casually as one might order a bottle of champagne. The intensity in the room shifted, the competition turning ruthless.

And then I saw him.

Damian Grayson.

I had noticed him before, but now, he was all I could see. He sat with an air of absolute control, as if the chaos around him didn't touch him in the slightest. His dark eyes held mine, unwavering, assessing-claiming, possessively dark.

A shiver ran through me. Not of fear, but something else. Something dangerously close to intrigue.

Then, another name entered the mix.

Ethan Kingston. The auctioneer appeared confused but was approached by another who spoke into his ear and left swiftly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, there's been a slight change but with a solution to that. A certain influential individual who we would all know but decided his name shouldn't be mentioned informed us that he wouldn't be able to he here but has a representative here..."

A man in an expensive suit stood in his place, speaking on his behalf. Whoever he was, he was relentless. Every time Damian raised the bid, this certain representative countered.

Two million.

Three million.

Four.

Seven.

Just as I considered leaving my fate to this man, a voice cuts through the murmurs.

Ten.

I turn around to meet my buyer's eyes, rich and dark. The tension in the room was razor-sharp, a battle being waged in silence. He clearly wasn't bidding because he wanted me. No, this was something else. Personal.

Damian's expression remained unreadable, but something in his posture shifted. Subtle, but there. He wasn't just bidding anymore-he was staking his claim.

The bid was over. The man offers to shake Damian's hand although he was clearly not interested, he remained composed and shakes him as they exchanged words for a minute before he turned to my side and began walking down to me. I could hear my own heartbeat louder than his footsteps. He was clearly not revealing anything which made me even more nervous.

He stands a few inches away from me, hands in his dark pants as he stares into my soft brown eyes.

"You shouldn't have wasted that amount of resources trying to get me. Others were bought significantly less." I started.

He scoffed which got me confused like he was mocking me. "What's your name?"

"Isabelle."

"You should be grateful," he murmurs as I hesitate before signing the contract. "I just saved you from a far worse fate."

The ink dries. The deal is sealed. I am now trapped in a year-long contract I don't fully understand.

And somehow, I knew.

He wouldn't lose. He wanted me to be his and he did.