Chapter 71 Marketable
Veronica bent down, bringing her face close to Genesis’s, wearing a fake look of sympathy.
“You shouldn’t have done that, honey. Now you’ve pissed him off—so you need to apologize.”
Tears glistened in Genesis’s eyes, and Veronica savored it. Genesis glanced at the man still gripping her hair tightly, as if he might pull it out. His nostrils flared with anger, but she didn’t flinch. She just stared back at him.
Veronica bit her lip and turned toward him. “She’s new to all this. She’ll get used to it by the time we’re done.”
The man studied her for a moment, then nodded. He tapped Genesis’s cheek sharply.
“You better cooperate. And if you ever do that again, this pretty face won’t be so pretty anymore.”
His slap was harder this time. He let go of her hair, straightened up, and Veronica glanced at Genesis, who stared at the floor. Then she moved closer to the man, whispering something in his ear.
Two women—assistants, or maybe just accomplices—emerged from behind a divider. Without a word, they helped Genesis to her feet. One dabbed at her lip with a tissue; the other whispered, “Just do what they say. It’ll be over faster.”
Genesis didn’t respond. Her heart thundered in her chest, limbs frozen between fight and surrender. Her coat was gone. The thin gown clung to her frame—no armor, no protection. When she looked toward Mika standing beside her, She
turned her face away.
“Take her to Set B,” the man ordered.
They led her across the room to a smaller, curtained-off area. Inside, the lighting was dim but sharp, camera lenses pointed like rifles. A platform sat under a spotlight, with a chair and a fainting couch draped in velvet. It was staged—intimate, false, dangerous.
“Stand there,” someone said, snapping a picture as she stood frozen. “Let’s get a few candid ones.”
Flash. Another. Click.
Genesis raised her hands to shield her face, but they yanked them down.
“Don’t act shy now,” Veronica cooed from the side. “This is how stars are made. Kieran’s counting on you, remember?”
Her knees buckled at the name. She couldn’t believe he’d asked for this—that he forced her body to obey when her mind screamed no.
“Undo the back of her dress,” Veronica instructed one of the women.
Genesis flinched, but the woman was merciless. A cold hand tugged the zipper. The gown slipped from her shoulders, exposing her back. She wrapped her arms around herself, breath shallow and trembling.
“What the fuck is all that?” The man’s voice rose in disgust as he pointed to the scars covering her skin.
Eyes went wide—even Veronica’s. She hadn’t expected that. She took a cautious step forward.
Genesis stood frozen. She didn’t want this. Her skin crawled beneath their stares—not just from being exposed, but because those eyes didn’t see her as a person. Not a girl. Just skin. A product. Her arms tightened around her chest, though it barely helped. The memories surged back—being trapped, touched, judged. She wanted to scream, but no sound came. Not in years.
Veronica was the first to recover, smoothing her expression into something sly.
“Scars are easy to cover. Makeup, lighting—we can work around it.”
But the man still stared, face twisted between amusement and irritation.
“She’s been through shit,” he said, clicking his tongue. “We’ll need to rough her up a little more to make her marketable.”
Genesis’s breath caught.
Rough her up?
He turned away as casually as if discussing furniture rearrangement.
“Put her in the chair. I want that shot before lunch.”
The women moved again. Genesis stumbled back, shaking her head wildly.
The man behind the camera leaned forward, frustration darkening his features.
“Get her to pose, or we’re done here.”
Veronica stepped forward.
“You’ll do this, Genesis,” she said sweetly, eyes sharp as knives. “Or I’ll tell Kieran you embarrassed him. That you couldn’t even help one little friend.”
No. No
Genesis shook her head again.
Veronica’s face twisted with rage. She snapped her fingers, and two men stepped forward. Genesis stumbled back, but they grabbed her. She thrashed wildly as they tore at her clothes—until nothing was left but her bralette and panties.
“Now put her in the chair.”
Genesis struggled harder, tears streaming down her cheeks, mouth open in silent screams. They slammed her down and tied her hands and legs to the arms of the chair.
When they finished, they stepped back. Veronica and the man smiled, raising their cameras again.
“Damn, she’s so pretty—even with tears, hair all over the place,” the man said, licking his lips. Veronica glanced at him, irritated.
The camera clicked and flashed nonstop.
The man straightened and said, “Spread her legs.”
One of the men rose and shoved her tied leg wider.
“That’s great. Beautiful.”
More pictures.
Then the man stopped. Veronica moved toward him.
“Show me.”
She took the camera and peered at the screen. The images flickered: Genesis in the chair, hair wild, tears streaking her face, lips parted in fear and pain. The harsh light captured every detail—the delicate curve of her collarbone, the wet glint in her eyes, the trembling hands tied tight.
Raw and stunning—the tangled mix of pain and beauty. There was something hypnotic about how exposed she was, yet so real. The fragile girl caught in a cruel game.
Veronica’s lips curled into a tight smile, a flicker of irritation beneath. She scrolled through the photos—each one more intimate, more revealing—her annoyance not because the images were bad, but because Genesis’s natural beauty, even in torment, was undeniable and threatening.
With a cold smirk, Veronica leaned in.
“Take down the bralette. Let’s see how much more ‘marketable’ she can get.”
The men nodded and moved forward. In seconds, the bralette was gone, exposing her bare chest. Genesis’s eyes shut tight. Mika looked away, biting her lip hard.
Veronica didn’t look happy. She murmured something low and venomous to one of her lackeys, who nodded silently and slipped away without a word.
The cameraman kept snapping pictures. Then, without warning, ice-cold water began pouring from above, drenching Genesis where she sat. She startled, her eyes snapping open, the freezing water soaking her through. The relentless stream intensified, and still the camera clicked.
The water overwhelmed her, pressing down like it would suffocate her. Veronica smiled—a slow, cruel curve of her lips—as she watched Genesis struggle to breathe.
Mika stepped forward, voice sharp. “Is this not enough?”
All eyes snapped to her. Veronica’s cold warning sliced through the air: “You’ll be next if you don’t shut up.”
Mika immediately turned away, shrinking back. Veronica’s gaze snapped back to Genesis. Just as Genesis parted her lips in a gasp, a shadow moved swiftly toward Veronica. Someone murmured urgently into her ear. Veronica’s eyes widened for the first time—surprise and fear flickering beneath her usual cold mask.
“Untie her. Now.” She roared.
The water abruptly stopped pouring. Hands tugged fiercely at the knots binding Genesis. As she began to slump, a man caught her effortlessly and adjusted her bralette over her trembling frame.
Veronica stumbled forward, dropping to her knees and gathering Genesis into her arms just as the double doors slammed open with authority. Her head snapped toward the entrance.
Kieran and his men strode in.
Veronica’s voice cracked with desperation, “Kieran, please… help.”