Sold Me Like Goods—Now He's Paying the Price

The door swung open, and several men in black suits walked in. The one in the lead looked to be in his early 30s. He had a scar running across his face and a cold, sinister gaze.

"Mr. Olson will be here soon." The scarred man glanced at me. "She's been taken care of?"

"Yes, of course." Peter smiled sycophantically. "Take a look at her. She looks just like that person, doesn't she?"

The scarred man came closer, crouched down, and studied my face carefully.

My heart plummeted. It was Donald Dimm. My uncle, Wesley Olson, had mentioned him before. He said he was ruthless but not yet a core member of the clan.

Unfortunately, that meant… he didn't know who I was.

Donald stared at me for a long time. His gaze shifted from appraising to strange. "She does. She's almost identical, damn it."

He reached out, brushing the rough pad of his thumb across my cheek. "She's exactly like in the photos."

I went rigid, but I forced myself to speak. "You're Donald Dimm, right? I'm—"

Donald slapped me harder than Finn had done earlier, making my head snap to the side. Blood instantly welled at the corner of my mouth.

"Who said you could call me by my name?" He grabbed a fistful of my hair. "You're just someone handed over to pay a debt. You think you're worthy of acting all chummy with me?"

"No, I—"

"Shut up!" His hand clamped around my throat. "Say one more word, and I'll make sure you never speak again."

My oxygen was cut off. I clawed at his hand, but it was useless. Finn and his family stood off to the side, frightened into silence.

"So, about this…" Peter finally spoke, testing the waters. "Over on Mr. Olson's side…"

"Mr. Olson is upstairs." Donald released me and stood. "I came down first to check the goods."

He lit a cigarette, crouched again, and flicked ash onto my face. "Looking like her is where your value lies. It's not something you get to be proud of."

He gripped my jaw. "Don't think you can use that face to climb your way out."

I coughed violently, tears streaming down my face. "I'm… I'm Mr. Olson's niece…"

"Stop this bullshit!" Donald exploded, kicking me hard in the stomach.

Agony shot through me as I folded in on myself.

"As if I wouldn't know whether Mr. Olson has siblings." He sneered. "You really will say anything when your life's on the line."

He waved a hand. "Vodka."

One of his men immediately handed over a bottle of strong vodka. Donald twisted the cap off, grabbed my chin again, and forced the bottle to my mouth.

The alcohol scorched as it made its way down my throat. I choked and gagged, my face burning red as the vodka spilled down my chin and soaked into my clothes.

"Drink every single drop." Donald's voice was ice-cold. "If you dare throw up when Mr. Olson gets here, I'll send you straight to hell."

He didn't stop until more than half the bottle was gone. I collapsed forward and dry-heaved, feeling like my throat had been seared raw. I could barely make a sound.

Finn shifted uneasily. "If she can't talk later…"

"That's even better." Donald shot him a chilly look. "Saves us the trouble of her trying to cling to anyone."

He crouched again and grabbed my right hand. "Nice fingers."

I stared at him in terror.

"What a shame." He tightened his grip without warning.

There was a crack, and then my scream echoed through the sitting room. My index finger bent at a grotesque angle. The pain was so intense that my vision went dark at the edges.

"That's just one." Donald sounded almost casual. "If you don't behave, I'll ruin all ten."

I trembled all over, cold sweat pouring down my back as I seized up and twitched on the floor.

"Mr. Olson is here!" Someone announced from the doorway.

Donald immediately stood, straightened his suit jacket, and schooled his features into respectful deference. Finn and his parents rushed to stand properly as well, lowering their heads, not daring to look up.

The door swung open. A tall figure in a black overcoat stepped in. He had sharp features and a chillingly dominant presence. It was my Uncle Wesley.

He took in the wrecked sitting room at a glance, his brows knitting sharply. "What the hell happened here?"

Donald stepped forward. "Mr. Olson, these people wanted to use a woman to pay off their debt—"

"I've said this before." Uncle Wesley's voice was cold and unyielding. "Don't bring just about anyone here. "Get rid of them."

He turned to leave as soon as he finished.

No!

I summoned everything I had left to push myself up, but my body gave out, and I crashed back to the floor. My throat refused to make a sound.

Uncle Wesley's footsteps didn't slow.

In utter desperation, I tore off the necklace Mom had left me. With my still-functioning left hand, I hurled it toward Uncle Wesley's feet as hard as I could.

Metal hit marble with a sharp, ringing clang. His steps halted. He lowered his head to the necklace on the floor, then lifted his eyes to my blood-streaked, tear-stained face.

His expression changed completely.