Chapter 36 Kneel Down
The room went black in an instant. Only a single spotlight remained, cutting down from above and pinning Caroline in its glare.
Every pair of eyes locked on her.
She stopped thinking. Her arms lifted stiffly, moving in time with the slow, sultry pulse of the music. The rhythm demanded fluidity, but her body offered none. Her left leg, still weak from an old injury, protested with every shift. Pain stiffened her movements until they were jagged, awkward.
Compared to Lucy's earlier performance, she was a ghost of it—clumsy, graceless, stripped of any allure.
It was as if her soul had floated free, watching from above with cold detachment, looking down at the body that was Caroline… enduring a slow, deliberate humiliation.
"Move! Put some strength into it! Did you skip dinner?"
"Yeah, look at Lucy—she had fire! You're stiff as a damn fence post!"
"Alexander, this toy of yours isn't much. Didn't break her in right?"
"She's shy. Here, let me show you—hips like this…"
Laughter rolled through the room, crude and relentless. Their eyes clung to her exposed skin, slick and invasive, sliding over fresh and faded scars with a feverish hunger.
Caroline kept moving as if she hadn't heard them, repeating the same mechanical motions.
Her mind was slipping, sinking into a place where nothing hurt. Cold. Dark. Empty.
But someone always wanted more than just looking.
Xavier, the bearded man, had been drinking heavily. His courage swelled with the alcohol. He shoved the woman off his lap and staggered to his feet, pointing at Caroline.
"Alex, your toy… she's not much of a dancer, but the way she moves—God, I can't get enough. Name your price. Tonight she's mine. Any number you want."
The room went still. The laughter cut off. Eyes darted to Alexander.
He sat back in the shadows, turning a lighter in his hand. His face was unreadable.
After a long moment, he lifted his gaze to Xavier. A faint curl touched his mouth.
"Oh? You've taken a liking to her?"
Xavier grinned, emboldened. "Hell yes. I like them with a little damage. Makes the game more fun. Two million dollars—how about it? She's mine for the night."
"Two million?" another man said, narrowing his eyes at Caroline. "That's low. Alexander's girl is worth more. I'll give three."
"Three and a half!"
"Four million!"
The private room turned into an auction, numbers tossed like weapons. They weren't thinking of her as a person. To them she was no different from lingerie in a shop window—something to buy, to flaunt, to use.
Alexander's silence only fed them, as if he were weighing which bid pleased him most.
Caroline stood under the light, listening to the numbers climb. Each one hit like hailstones, shattering what was left of her heart. Cold spread through her chest.
High or low, it made no difference. She was already a commodity.
Xavier's temper flared. He yanked a wad of cash from his pocket and strode toward her. In front of everyone, he slammed the bills against her face.
The paper's edge cut her cheek, jerking her head to the side. Blood welled in a thin line.
The bills fell around her, some landing on her body, others on the floor.
"Whore! Stop pretending you're above this! Isn't this the deal? Is this enough? Huh?!"
His breath reeked of liquor as his hand shot for the neckline of her sheer skirt.
"Come with me tonight. I'll make sure you—"
"No!" The moment his greasy hand reached for her, her stomach turned. She screamed, twisting away.
Her resistance only lit Xavier's temper—and the sadistic spark in the others.
"Not happy, huh?"
"Xavier, looks like you'll need to teach her."
"Alexander hasn't said a word. Why's she acting up?"
In the chaos, someone grabbed a chilled champagne bottle and upended it over her.
"Ah—"
The icy liquid hit her head and shoulders, soaking her sheer skirt and lace in seconds. The fabric molded to her skin, outlining every contour.
"Nice! Perfect!"
Xavier laughed, seizing her hair and yanking her down hard.
"Let go! Let me go!" The pain ripped through her scalp as she hit the floor.
She cried out, thrashing, but more men closed in.
Hands pinned her arms and legs. Fingers tore at fabric that was barely there to begin with.
The black skirt ripped. Feathers scattered. Even the lace that offered the barest cover strained under their grip.
Hungry eyes roamed her pale skin, tracing the scars without shame.
"Look at these marks… there's something special about them." A rough hand dragged over an old scar on her arm.
"Say you're nothing but trash."
Xavier's breath was heavy as he forced her face to the cold floor. "Say it, and I'll go easy. Don't, and—"
He raised his hand.
Caroline bit down hard on her lip.
No. She wouldn't. Not even if it killed her.
"Not saying?" His eyes hardened. The slap cracked across her face.
Her thin body jolted, slamming into the wall behind her.
The taste of metal flooded her mouth. She gagged, coughing blood.
"Say it!" His boot drove into her stomach.
"Ugh!" She curled in on herself, nausea twisting inside her.
"Your sister died ugly, didn't she?" The voice was cold—one of the men who'd bid earlier.
He crouched, lifting her chin until she met his eyes.
"She died saving you. You killed her. You're a curse. Breathing is a waste of air. Admit it. Do it sincerely, and maybe she'll hate you less from up there."
The words froze her.
Yes. She had killed Edith. Living was a crime.
What right did she have to cling to dignity? If Edith could see her now… she'd hate her more.
Xavier's patience snapped. He raised his hand again.
"I'm a curse..." The whisper broke from her split lips.
"Louder! Didn't you eat?"
"I'm a curse... I'm trash..." Her eyes shut. Tears burned as she forced the words out.
"You hear that? She admitted it!"
Laughter exploded.
"Not enough. Crawl."
Xavier dropped her hair, stepping back. "On your knees. From here to there. Move."
She lay on the floor, her veins turned to ice.
Her eyes found Alexander on the sofa. His face was still cold. Whatever pride she had left shattered.
Her elbows and knees took her weight. Under the press of a hundred eyes, she dragged herself forward… a broken thing, crawling across the floor, each breath heavy with the weight of their scorn.