Chapter 131: He Was Watching

Lafu turned her head to the side to say something quietly to Leitana, but the words died at the back of her throat. She watched in confusion as tears streamed silently down Leitana’s cheeks, glistening under the low lighting.

She leaned in closely, her voice soft.

“Hey honey… anything the matter?”

Leitana said nothing. She just stared at the raised platform, eyes wide, unblinking as another model stepped forward under the spotlight. A man this time, tall, sculpted, wearing only low-slung silk trousers and a silver collar around his neck. The raven-masked auctioneer lifted his gavel.

“Lot Seven. Twenty-six years old. Eclipse Models. Starting bid: one hundred fifty thousand.”

Paddles rose, Numbers climbed. Voices murmured approval.

“Leitana,” Lafu whispered again, sharper this time.

Leitana didn’t turn.

The frown on Lafu’s face deepened. She looked down at Leitana’s hand, clenched so tightly on her thigh that the emerald dress was wrinkled and bunched around her fist. Lafu lifted her own hand and wrapped it gently around Leitana’s left one.

At the touch, Leitana jerked, startled then finally turned. Her hazel eyes were glassy, filled with sadness so raw it made Lafu’s chest ache.

“What’s wrong?” Lafu asked softly.

Marco lifted his paddle just then, calling a price for the male model on stage. The hammer hadn’t fallen yet, but the room was alive with quiet hunger.

Leitana looked at Lafu. Then at Marco. Then back at the platform where the young man stood motionless, chin high, eyes unreadable from where they sat. Then back at Lafu.

“Dis is bad,” she whispered, voice horrified.

Lafu nodded slowly.

“I know. That’s why we’re here, aren’t we? So clean up your tears or we risk getting exposed.”

Leitana stared at her for a few long moments, tears still slipping then wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. Thankfully the room was dim, the spotlight focused only on the platform. No one noticed.

Stacy leaned in from Lafu’s other side, voice low enough for the group to hear but no one else.

“Um, guys… I have a question.”

Lafu turned slightly. “What’s that?”

Stacy kept her eyes on the stage, paddle in her lap but her whisper was urgent.

“I know this whole thing is disgusting, but… to be honest, I don’t think it’s illegal. I mean, these models probably sign NDAs, consent forms, contracts, whatever. They know they’re being ‘auctioned’ for companionship, right? Private dates, trips, nights, whatever. It’s all wrapped in paperwork. It’s like… high-end escorting with extra steps. If everyone signs, if it’s all consensual on paper… how is this a crime?”

Marco nodded grimly, paddle still raised half-heartedly.

“Yeah. That’s what I’ve been thinking too. The auction itself? Shady as hell, but probably not prosecutable. Rich people buy ‘experiences.’ Models sell them. NDAs keep it quiet. Everyone walks away paid and quiet.”

Lafu’s jaw tightened.

Stacy kept going, voice dropping even lower.

“So if our wires are catching what's going on here… we can’t just take this to the police. They’ll say it’s all voluntary. Consenting adults. Private transactions. No victim. No crime.”

Leitana’s breath hitched, fresh tears threatening again.

Lafu exhaled slowly.

“That’s exactly why we’re here,” she whispered. “Not to prove the auction exists. We already know it does. We’re here to prove what happens after the gavel falls.”

She glanced at the stage where the male model had just been sold for four hundred eighty thousand.

Lafu continued.

“Celeste didn’t just ‘consent’ forever. She started because she was vulnerable, heartbroken, she thought her career would be on the line after confessing to Ravial, Jim whispering that Ravial would drop her if she said no. At first, maybe she agreed. Maybe she signed something. But when she tried to stop? When she wanted out after a week, a month, a year? They wouldn’t let her. Blackmail. Threats. Contracts with buried clauses. Power. That’s the crime. Coercion. Trafficking under the guise of ‘sponsorship.’ Forced continuation. There is no real exit.”

Marco’s face hardened.

“So we need proof of the trap,” he said quietly. “Not just the auction. Proof that once they’re in… they can’t get out.”

Lafu nodded.

“But we already got proof,” Stacy added quickly, leaning in so her whisper reached only the group. “We have the voicemails Celeste left—her literally saying she was being forced to keep pleasing these pigs, that she wanted out but couldn’t. We have the emails from the box, the retreat dates, the buried riders, Diego’s sponsor names and these same sponsors right here too. All we really need now is her apartment CCTV. If we can get footage of what really happened that night… that ties it all together. That makes it undeniable.”

Lafu exhaled slowly.

“Yes but coming to this auction helps because now we also have proof of how it starts,” she whispered. “The public face. The ‘voluntary’ part. We show the auction, we show the contracts, then we show what happens when they try to leave. Celeste tried. And someone made sure she never could.”

Marco nodded grimly.

“Okay, okay but is it just me or we haven’t seen Jim or Willow anywhere…?”

He was still speaking when Leitana felt it.

Eyes on her.

Crawling through her skin.

She turned her head to the right.

A few feet away, seated in the second row, a man stared directly at her. Plain black mask. No embellishments. Just darkness. His lips curled into a slow, chilling smile.

A chill raced down her spine.

Goosebumps erupted across her arms.

Something about him felt familiar, too familiar but she couldn’t place it.

She quickly looked away, her heart thudding hard in her chest.

“But isn’t those two guys to Leitana’s right part of the people who sponsored Celeste?” Stacy whispered, subtly gesturing with her eyes toward Victor Langston and Greg Harlan seated right beside them.

Lafu glanced over, jaw tightening.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “They are.”

“So how do we access Celeste’s apartment?” Marco asked.

“I have the keys,” Lafu said, and their eyes went wide.

“Why did you not tell us that?” Stacy asked suspiciously.

“I don’t know. I just have the spare key she gave to me. We can go there tomorrow,” Lafu said, but she did not reply to Stacy’s question of why she hadn’t told them she had the keys to the apartment.

Leitana looked at Lafu. She also didn’t like the fact that Lafu hadn’t told them this, but she said nothing and just sat there watching the auction. Occasionally she looked around, but there was no sight of Ravial.

And that guy who had been looking at her strangely was no longer where he was seated.

“Finally it's over, I hated every minute of it,” Stacy muttered as they slipped through the red door with the handful of other guests who were also leaving early.

The majority of the room had already dispersed, slipping away in pairs or small groups toward private suites, back rooms, or discreet exits to complete their purchases. The auction hall felt emptier now, the air heavier with the scent of champagne and expensive cologne.

The four of them were grateful for the crowd thinning out. If only they had left while everyone else stayed behind, it would have looked suspicious, four people walking out alone when so many others were cashing in on their “lots.” This way, they blended into the slow trickle of departing guests.

Marco exhaled as they reached the top of the grand staircase.

“Thank God not everyone got someone,” he whispered. “Would’ve been weird as hell if it was just us four leaving empty-handed.”

Stacy nodded.

“Yeah. At least we don’t look like the only weirdos who didn’t buy a human being tonight.”

Lafu kept her voice low.

“Let’s just get downstairs and get out. The van is waiting. We’ll debrief there.”

They descended together, steps careful on the plush red runner, masks still in place until they reached the main floor. The ballroom below was quieter now, most guests having migrated upstairs or vanished into private corners of the estate. A few stragglers lingered near the bar, laughing softly over final drinks.

Leitana walked between Lafu and Marco, heart still pounding from everything she had witnessed. She kept glancing around, half hoping, half dreading—to spot Ravial’s tall frame or white mask in the crowd. She hadn’t seen him since he walked away earlier, and the absence made her anxious. Had he left? Was he watching from somewhere?

She was so lost in thought she almost missed the pressure building in her bladder.

“Mi need de toilet,” she whispered suddenly.

Lafu turned. “I’ll come with…”

“No,” Leitana said quickly. “Mi be back quick. Yu wait here.”

Lafu hesitated, eyes scanning the ballroom then nodded.

“Okay. Straight down the hall, take a left at the big mirror. You’ll see the sign. Don’t wander. We leave in ten.”

Leitana nodded and hurried off, heels clicking softly on the tiles..

The hallway stretched long and dim, lined with gilded mirrors and low sconces. She followed Lafu’s directions, straight, left at the ornate mirror and found it: a discreet gold plaque on dark wood: Powder Room.

She pushed the door open.

It closed behind her with a soft, final click.

Before she could take another step, a hand clamped over her mouth.

Another wrapped around her throat.

A voice snarled harshly against her ear.

“If you scream or bite, I’ll snap your dainty little neck.”

Dread flooded her, cold, and paralyzing.

She knew that voice.