“I assure you it’s very real,” Natalia says evenly, “and you didn’t need to agree. Legally, Mr. Romero is authorized to make decisions on your behalf.”
“But– how?” I stammer, my mind refusing to catch up to what I’m hearing.
“Mr. Romero is extremely well-connected,” she states in a clipped tone. “The physician who authored those evaluations is a personal friend, the judge who approved the conservatorship owes him favors that go back decades. The point is, the paperwork is sound, Miss Morrow, whether you agree with what’s in those pages or not.” She folds her hands on the desk.“There’s no getting out of this, so the sooner you accept your circumstances, the easier this transition will be.”
My head swims. It feels like a bad dream stretched too long– one where I keep wanting to wake up and don’t.
“So what,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “You expect me to just… live here now?”
“Temporarily,” she replies, returning the folder to her drawer with maddening composure. “Dollhouse assets have different purposes, depending on the specifics of acquisition. Some enter under contract, assigning their debts to the Dollhouse in exchange for a term of service. Others are here for remediation and repurposing.” She pauses. “Others, like you, are acquired for auction.”
“Auction?” I gasp.
“Yes. Given your age, pleasing appearance, and familial connections, a marriage auction was deemed the most profitable option for return on investment.”
My pulse stutters, breath catching painfully in my throat. “Marriage?”
She nods once. “The bidding has already begun. We anticipated strong interest due to your association with the Romero family, and once it was confirmed that your virginity is intact–”
“Wait,what?!” I squeak.
She folds her hands again, unbothered. “When you arrived, a sedative was administered to ensure a smooth transition. While you were under, you received a full medical workup and comprehensive physical examination. We also initiated laser hair removal, began a nutritional supplement protocol, and discovered your tattoo, which will require several removal sessions.” Her mouth tightens slightly. “That was… unexpected. It will extend your stay beyond our original estimate. Though it does allow us to prolong the bidding window, so it mayultimately work in our favor. Virgin brides are few and far between these days, especially with familial connections to the upper ranks of the Invictus society.”
I stare at her, mouth hanging open, the words barely registering. A sick, hollow feeling opens in my chest as the realization sinks in– hands on my body, assessments made, decisions finalized while I was unconscious.
Violated doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“While you’re here,” she continues smoothly, “you’ll undergo our standard training. Etiquette, social conditioning, instruction on how to sexually satisfy your future husband…”
“No!” I lurch to my feet, the chair scraping loudly as rage and terror collide in my chest. “I won’t do it! I won’t be your perfect little Stepford wife or whatever the hell this is. You can’t do this, it’s... it’s human trafficking!”
She only watches me, tapping her manicured nails against the glass desktop irritably. “As I said, this is all above board. The sooner you accept it–”
“I won’t accept it!” I snap. “I’ll fight you every second.”
“That’s your prerogative,” she replies mildly. “But you’ll only make it worse for yourself.”
I shake my head and spin around, rushing for the door. I slam my palm against the wall panel, searching desperately for a seam, a crack, a weakness. There’s nothing. It’s smooth, solid. Unyielding.
Natalia just watches patiently as I try throwing my body weight against it, panic clawing higher with every failed attempt. When I finally turn back around, breathless and sweating, she taps something on her tablet.
My ankle explodes with fire.
The shock drops me instantly. It’s deep and merciless, ripping through muscle and nerve like my body’s being tornapart from the inside. I hit the floor screaming and thrashing, clawing at my own skin.
When it finally stops, I’m left twitching on the ground, gasping and humiliated, every nerve screaming in the aftermath. My pulse pounds in my teeth, vision blurring at the edges.
Natalia approaches, heels clicking softly as she steps up beside me. “Is it sinking in now?” she asks, cocking her head. “You’re not in control here, Ava.”
I glare up at her, vision swimming, but all I can do is sob, the quiet, broken sounds muffled against my arm.
She crouches, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear with unsettling gentleness. For a fleeting second, I think she might offer mercy.
“Get used to it,” Natalia snaps coldly.
Then she straightens and walks away, leaving me alone on the floor. Broken, bound, and utterly helpless.
CHAPTER 3
