Prescription: love

The chandeliers sparkled above, casting golden light on polished tables, expensive suits, and jeweled fingers wrapped around glasses of wine. The air was thick with perfume, smoke, and laughter that sounded too loud, too cruel.

Nora Daniels stood behind a red velvet curtain, her body trembling no matter how tightly she held her hands together. The black dress she wore was borrowed, too tight across her chest, and the cheap heels bit into her toes. She could hear the men out there. Their voices rose and fell, deep and sharp, like a pack of wolves ready to pounce.

Her stomach turned.

She didn’t belong here.

This wasn’t who she was.

But she had no choice.

Nora closed her eyes for a second, the bright noise of the crowd fading into the memory of her father lying on a hospital bed. His face was pale, his eyes tired but still warm whenever he looked at her. Machines beeped beside him, reminding her with every sound that time was running out.

Her father had always been her strength. He was the one who encouraged her to chase her dreams of becoming a nurse, the one who held her hand after her mother died of cancer and promised that, somehow, they would survive. But promises didn’t pay hospital bills. Dreams didn’t buy medicine.

And when the last bill came, higher than anything she had ever seen, reality crushed her.

That was why she was here. At an underground auction.

Her friend had whispered about it weeks ago, about how desperate women earned fast money by selling themselves to men who could afford them. Nora had laughed it off then. She was a student, not a prostitute. But when she saw her father coughing blood into his sheets, when she realized she had nothing left to sell except herself, laughter was no longer an option.

“Lot Twenty-One,” the auctioneer’s voice thundered.

Nora’s eyes flew open.

The curtain jerked open.

The spotlight hit her.

“Gentlemen,” the auctioneer boomed, “a new face. Fresh. Pure. Beautiful. Feast your eyes!”

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Someone nudged her from behind, forcing her forward. Her legs shook as she stepped into the blinding light.

The room erupted.

Whistles. Cheers. Murmurs. Hungry eyes crawled over her, stripping her bare without touching her. She kept her chin high, though her insides screamed for her to run.

“She’s perfect.”

“Too young. Even better.”

“I’ll take her for the night.”

Their words stabbed her ears, but she didn’t flinch. If she showed weakness, they would devour her.

Nora forced herself to walk to the center of the stage, though each step felt like walking deeper into hell.

“Shall we begin the bidding?” the auctioneer grinned, lifting his hammer.

But before he could call the first number, a deep, calm voice cut through the noise.

“What a waste.”

The room fell silent.

Every head turned.

Nora froze, her breath catching in her throat.

At the back of the room, half in shadow, a