Chapter 75 Even the Broken Are Sold
The only light came from the chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling. The air was thick with a sickly-sweet perfume that mingled with the pink, lace-trimmed bedding, creating an atmosphere that made Caroline's skin crawl beneath the dim glow.
Her gaze drifted slowly over every corner of the room until it caught something lurking in the shadows far from the bed.
A chair. But not like any chair she had seen before.
It stood taller than normal, with a rigid straight back and a narrow seat. Curved armrests jutted from either side, each fitted with adjustable leather restraints. The legs were solid metal, bolted directly into the floor.
This was not furniture meant for comfort.
Caroline's pupils contracted. Fragments of overheard conversations—things she had once dismissed as idle gossip—suddenly crystallized in her mind with horrifying clarity.
This chair was built for restraint. For display. For...
No.
She understood now. This was not a sanctuary. It was a cage dressed in silk and paint, which somehow made it worse.
Caroline staggered to her feet and stumbled toward the door. She threw her full weight against the heavy wood, but the reinforced lock did not budge.
The hallway beyond remained silent. She felt discarded, left to rot in this room. But she knew better. The quiet would not last. What came next would be worse.
Time crawled forward in the suffocating stillness.
Caroline huddled by the door, losing track of how long she had been waiting—or what she was even waiting for.
Just when her body had gone numb against the floor, the lock clicked.
She flinched violently, scrambling backward until she hit the opposite wall.
The door swung open.
Three broad-shouldered men filled the doorway, blocking out the light from the hall.
"Awake already? Good. Saves us the trouble of waking you." The leader grinned, revealing yellowed teeth.
Caroline tried to retreat further, but the wall pressed against her spine. There was nowhere left to go. She could only watch as they closed in.
"Bring her over."
The leader jerked his chin. The other two stepped forward, grabbing her as if she weighed nothing and hauling her off the floor.
Her struggles meant nothing in their grip. They dragged her toward that awful chair.
'No! Please!' Caroline screamed inside, shaking her head violently.
"Hold still." One of them shoved her shoulder down, forcing her into the seat.
The cold leather made her shudder. In the next moment, the other man grabbed the restraints and locked them around her ankles and wrists with practiced efficiency.
Finally, the widest strap came across her chest, pinning her against the rigid backrest.
She could not move at all.
The position forced her spine straight, leaving every vulnerable part of her exposed to their eyes.
"Damn, she actually looks the part." One man stroked his chin with a lewd grin, reaching for her already torn clothing.
"Let's see if she's worth what the boss paid."
Rough hands reeking of cigarettes and sweat moved across her chest, tearing open what remained of her shirt without hesitation.
Cold air bit into her skin. Caroline squeezed her eyes shut.
She did not know if anyone would come for her this time. But she knew the worst was about to begin.
Just as she braced for deeper violation, the man pawing at her clothes suddenly froze.
"Wait! Look at this!"
The other two leaned in. All three sucked in sharp breaths at once.
Caroline trembled as she opened her eyes through a blur of tears. The three men were staring at her body—not with lust, but with shock.
What they saw was not a flawless young body, but pale skin mapped with old and fresh injuries—whip marks, bruises, finger-shaped contusions, shallow burn scars, and a deep purple ligature mark still visible around her throat.
"Jesus Christ..."
Another man cursed under his breath, his brow furrowing. "What the hell is this? She's covered in scars, looks like a damn punching bag! How are we supposed to sell this? What client's gonna pay for damaged goods?"
"Yeah, it's disgusting to look at."
The man who had been holding her shoulder let go, wiping his hands on his pants as if he had touched something foul.
"Boss, we got screwed on this one. All that effort to grab her, and she's already been used up and thrown away."
The words cut into Caroline like blades, each one an insult that made her want to vanish.
She bit down hard on her lower lip, refusing to let the tears fall.
She had never hated her scarred body more than in this moment.
Yet beneath the crushing shame, a pathetic flicker of relief sparked to life.
Because of these marks, they found her repulsive.
Did that mean she was safe? At least for now?
The leader did not respond right away. He frowned and stepped closer.
He reached out, pressing a rough fingertip against a darker whip scar across her chest.
Caroline jerked violently, a humiliated whimper escaping her throat.
"Just kill her." One of the men spoke impatiently. "Can't sell her for anything decent. I heard organs go for good money on the black market. Maybe we can at least break even."
Caroline's vision went dark. She nearly passed out.
She wasn't even worth keeping alive?
"Shut up." The leader finally spoke.
He straightened, his gaze traveling over her scarred body.
"You idiots don't get it." A slow smile spread across his face.
"Normal merchandise sells one way. But this..."
He gestured toward her with his chin.
"Damaged goods with a story? That's a specialty item. Appeals to a very particular type of client."
The other two stared blankly for a moment, then understanding dawned. Their grins returned.
"Boss, you mean... the ones with the sick tastes?"
"Exactly." The leader's smile turned vicious.
"Rich bastards who've gotten bored with the clean ones. They want something broken. The worse the damage, the more it gets them off. These scars? They're not defects. They're selling points. We might even get double what we paid."
Caroline listened in horror, shaking her head desperately.