Beneath The Billionaire's Shadow

"Do you really think this is the only way out?"

The voice of my best friend, Jessica, trembled on the other side of the phone, but it was too late. The words had already left my lips, and there was no turning back now.

"Yes," I whispered, the finality of my decision settling over me like a suffocating fog. "It's the only way."

I paused, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter as my gaze flickered to the stack of bills littering the table. The latest notice from the bank was the last straw-if I didn't come up with something, my family's art gallery would close within a week. All the hard work my parents had poured into that place for decades, gone in the blink of an eye. I couldn't let that happen. Not on my watch.

"But Lola..." Jessica's voice cracked with worry. "You don't have to go through with this. There's gotta be another way."

Her concern was valid, but I'd been searching for weeks, and every option had led to dead ends. A second job wouldn't be enough. A loan wasn't an option. The one thing that stood between me and total devastation was tonight's event-the charity auction where I was willing to do the unthinkable.

"I'm not going to let it all slip away. I'll do whatever it takes," I replied, staring at my reflection in the window. My own eyes seemed foreign to me-brimming with desperation.

The plan was simple. The Kings Corporation was hosting the gala, and they had a charity auction that promised an astronomical sum for 'a night with Lola Anderson.' It wasn't just about the money. It was about saving my family's legacy. It was about keeping the doors open to the one place that felt like home.

"Okay, okay. But I don't like this, Lola. You're better than this. You don't have to sell yourself."

I wasn't selling myself, I reminded her. I was doing this for the gallery, for my family's future. My heart wrenched at the thought of letting them down, but I would go through with it. I had to.

I hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and glanced one last time at the tiny, aging art gallery on the corner of Main Street. It had been my parents' dream, their lifeblood. And now it was mine to protect.

The gala was everything I expected it to be. Rich, glittering, full of the city's elite and the corporate titans whose names graced the headlines. But I felt like a ghost in their world. I was nothing more than a charity piece, a tool they would use for their own entertainment, while I hoped-prayed-that my sacrifice would save what I loved.

The bidding was about to start. I stood backstage, adjusting my dress, feeling the weight of the world settle on my shoulders. I could hear the chatter, the laughter, the clinking of glasses as the wealthy patrons gathered in the hall. My stomach twisted, not with nerves, but with a deep, aching sense of betrayal. Not to anyone else-but to myself.

And then there was him.

Alexander Wolfe.

The man I knew would be there, but not in a million years had I expected him to be at the auction. Alexander was the youngest heir to the Kings Corporation fortune, and if there was anyone I didn't expect to be in that room, it was him. He wasn't the type to attend these charity functions. He wasn't the type to even pretend to care about causes like this.

But here he was.

His piercing blue eyes met mine across the room, his presence unmistakable as he stood near the front, a cold drink in hand. He was dressed in a tailored suit, his jaw clenched in a way that told me he was already calculating something. But what?

I felt a chill run down my spine, but I quickly shook it off. I couldn't afford distractions. This wasn't about him. It was about my family.

I was about to walk out onto the stage when the auctioneer's voice rang out. "Next up, ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special item. A night with none other than Lola Anderson, the owner of the Anderson Gallery."

The spotlight hit me as I stepped onto the stage, and the murmurs of the crowd grew louder. I had no illusions about the nature of tonight. It wasn't about me; it was about what I could offer. My dignity, my pride-they were nothing now. What mattered was the price.

"Starting bid, one hundred thousand dollars," the auctioneer called out, and the room fell into an expectant silence.

I could hear the bidding begin almost immediately. The numbers ticked up, fast, too fast, until I couldn't even register the sum. Two hundred thousand. Three hundred thousand. Four hundred thousand. Each bid a sharp jab in my chest. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't show them how much this was hurting.

"Five hundred thousand," a voice called from the front, cutting through the noise.

I froze. I didn't need to look to know who it was.

Alexander Wolfe.

I could feel his gaze on me, but I didn't dare meet his eyes. I couldn't. Not now. Not like this.

"Do I hear six hundred thousand?" the auctioneer continued, undeterred by the sudden silence.

The tension in the air was thick, and for a moment, I was completely unaware of the growing whispers, the excited chatter. All I could think about was the number-the one that would keep the gallery alive.

"Six hundred thousand," another voice echoed, and then, the bidding war truly began.

But as the price continued to rise, my heart began to race. It wasn't the numbers that were making my palms sweat. It was the realization of what was happening. This wasn't just a transaction anymore. This was my life on display, for all to see. My dignity, my worth-stripped bare.

Just as I was about to lose myself in the chaos, I heard it-the voice that would change everything.

"I'll bid one million dollars," Alexander said, his voice clear and unmistakable.

The room fell into stunned silence.

I turned toward him, my breath catching in my throat. This was no longer about saving my family. This was something else. Something far more complicated.

"Sold to Mr. Alexander Wolfe!" The auctioneer's words rang out, but all I could hear was the deafening pulse of my own heartbeat.

I had been bought.

But by whom? And at what cost?