Sold To The Devils Heir

I always believed silence was safety. That if I kept my head down, stayed quiet, and followed the rules, life would leave me alone.

But life doesn't care how quiet you are.

It still finds a way to break you.

--

The last good memory I had was a warm can of soup and a college acceptance letter. That night, I boiled water on the rusted stove while my father stumbled through the door reeking of whiskey and bad bets.

"Amelia," he slurred, voice hoarse, eyes sunken. "You still here?"

I nodded from the corner of our one-room apartment, tucking the letter back under my mattress.

He scratched his beard, stained with cigarette ash. "Thought you would've run off by now. Just like your mother did."

The words stung, but I didn't react. I never did. That was the game with my father-don't give him more to use against you.

He flopped onto the couch and lit another cigarette, his back to me.

I waited until he passed out before pulling the letter back out, holding it like a secret too sacred for the air.

> Congratulations, Amelia Grey. You've been awarded a full scholarship to Westmont University.

Tears slipped down my cheeks silently. I wasn't crying because I was happy-I was crying because I had something to lose.

And I knew life never let me keep good things.

--

It happened the next morning.

The apartment was cold, my father was gone, and there was no note. Not that he ever left one. I assumed he'd gone to place another bet he couldn't pay off.

I didn't expect the knock at the door.

It came sharp and sudden-three loud bangs that made the thin walls tremble. I froze.

We didn't get visitors. Especially not ones in broad daylight wearing all black.

I opened the door an inch.

The man on the other side was massive-broad-chested, tatted hands, black sunglasses.

"Amelia Grey?" he asked in a voice that sounded like a knife scraping metal.

I didn't answer. He didn't wait.

The door slammed open with brute force, throwing me backward. My head hit the floor, vision spinning.

Two other men rushed in, grabbed me by the arms, and dragged me up like a rag doll.

"Wait-what are you doing?!" I screamed, kicking, twisting, fighting-but they didn't care.

"Your father's debts are due," the first man said flatly, pulling something from his coat pocket. A photograph.

Of me.

In front of the community college. Laughing. Smiling.

"You've been sold."

---

The limo was black. Sleek. Sinister.

I was thrown inside like merchandise, the door slamming shut behind me with a finality that tasted like death.

My breath came in short gasps, my heart pounding so loud I thought it might shatter.

"What... what is this?" I whispered to no one.

The divider slid down slowly.

On the other side sat a man in a suit so sharp it looked like it was stitched with cruelty. His tie was black silk. His cufflinks? Real diamonds. But it wasn't the wealth that froze my lungs.

It was his eyes.