Sold by My Family, Married to a Billionaire

Mia Hayes looked down at herself. She was wearing a man's silk shirt, the cuffs dangling past her fingertips.

It smelled faintly of a cologne she didn't recognize—something clean and sharp, like sandalwood and citrus.

Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She threw back the duvet and scrambled out of the king-sized bed. Her body ached in unfamiliar ways. The room was empty. Silent, except for the hum of the city far below.

She forced herself to take a slow breath. Her eyes swept over her arms, her exposed skin. No bruises. Nothing that signaled violence.

She searched her memory desperately—but there was only confusion, fear, and the terrifying emptiness of not knowing.

On the nightstand, a single business card lay next to a glass of water.

The card was heavy, black, with a matte finish. In elegant silver script, it read just one name and a number.

Julian Carlisle.

No title. No company. Nothing else.

Mia snatched the card, her fingers trembling. Fragments of last night flashed through her mind.

The thumping bass of the music, the glittering lights of the party, and her best friend, Audrey, pressing another drink into her hand.

"You have to meet this guy, Mia," Audrey had slurred, her eyes overly bright. "He's young, successful... perfect for you."

Mia couldn't remember his face. She only remembered the sharp burn of tequila, again and again.

A sick feeling coiled in her stomach. A suspicion, cold and ugly, that this was no accident. But she pushed it down. Audrey wouldn't do that to her. They were best friends.

Still, something about the name on the card made her uneasy. She couldn't explain why, but the feeling refused to disappear.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for her own clothes. She found her cheap cocktail dress crumpled on a leather armchair, a stark, pathetic contrast to the room's luxury.

She felt like a stray dog in a palace.

Quickly, she peeled off the silk shirt and pulled on her own dress, the familiar fabric doing little to comfort her.

Just as she was about to flee, her phone buzzed violently on the nightstand. The screen lit up with a single word: "Mom."

Mia took a deep, shaky breath, trying to compose herself. She swiped to answer.

"Hi, Mom."

"Mia! Where the hell are you?" Her mother Deneen's voice was a shrill, panicked shriek. There was no concern, only accusation. "You need to get home! Now!"

Mia's heart sank. That tone meant trouble. The kind of trouble that always seemed to find her family.

"Mom, I was at a party last night, I—"

"I don't care what you did last night!" Deneen cut her off, her voice cracking with hysteria.

"It's your brother! If you don't want to see him with broken legs, you'll get your ass back here immediately!"

The line went dead.

The empty tone echoed in Mia's ear. She stood frozen, the phone clutched in her hand.

The chaos of the morning, the suspected betrayal, and now this—tightening around her like a vise.

She glanced at the window, at the sprawling city below. It felt like a giant, indifferent beast, ready to swallow her whole.

Her fingers closed around the hard edges of the business card in her pocket. A clue to a night she couldn't remember, or maybe, just maybe, something else entirely.

Her pulse still hammered at her temples, but panic wouldn't fix anything. Her family needed her.

She didn't hesitate any longer.

She walked out of the room, her steps quick and determined. She had to get home.

The hotel lobby was a universe of marble and gold. Bellhops in crisp uniforms eyed her cheap dress and disheveled hair with thinly veiled disdain.

She felt their judgment like a physical touch, urging her to move faster.

She practically ran through the revolving doors, the cold morning air hitting her like a slap. It cleared a fraction of the fog in her head.

She hailed the first taxi she saw, giving the driver an address in a neighborhood that was a world away from the gleaming towers of downtown.

As the taxi pulled away, she watched the grand hotel shrink in the rearview mirror. A chilling certainty settled in her gut.

Somehow, whatever had happened last night was connected to what was happening at home.

She pulled out her phone to text Audrey, to demand an explanation. Her thumbs hovered over the screen, typing out angry words before deleting them all.

Not yet. Not until she knew for sure.

She didn't know whether Audrey was involved or if this was just a horrible coincidence.

The taxi rolled from the pristine business district into older, grittier residential streets.

The familiar sight of her rundown apartment building loomed ahead.

Mia paid the driver and got out, her gaze fixed on the window of her family's apartment.

Trouble was waiting for her behind that door.