Taming My Sugar Mommy

Liam's pulse remained steady, but his body was coiled tight. The once-glamorous auction hall, with its polished marble floors and crystal chandeliers, now felt suffocating. The wealth and power that had seemed so alluring moments ago now exposed the darkness beneath. He'd suspected Isabella's world was filled with shadows, but he hadn't imagined this.

The auctioneer, standing at the front of the room, didn't flinch. His voice rang out with smooth detachment as if he were selling fine jewelry, not human lives. Around him, the crowd of wealthy men and women whispered eagerly, their eyes hungry but masked by forced smiles.

"Lot 21," the auctioneer called, motioning toward a young man with dark, sharp features. His body was rigid, posture straight, but his hands clenched at his sides. Defiance, or fear? It didn't matter. The bidding would proceed regardless.

"£800,000," a woman in a pearl-white gown said, her tone calm, detached. Her voice barely carried any emotion, but Liam could feel the underlying cruelty of her words. He stared at the young man, wondering how he felt—how long he had before his fate was sealed.

"£810,000." Another woman raised her paddle, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"£980,000," a man called out, his voice low but filled with authority.

The bidding escalated. The young man's fate was determined in under two minutes. When the gavel finally dropped, the room fell silent for a heartbeat, and the young man was led off stage with quiet obedience, disappearing behind the velvet curtains.

Liam's jaw tightened. He couldn't shake the image of the man's defeated expression.

Then came a woman—a blonde, willowy thing, her vacant expression adding to the chilling atmosphere. Her eyes were glassy, and she moved like a puppet on invisible strings. The men in the room, all too eager, straightened in their seats.

"£1 million," a man called out. "£1.5 million," another bid.

Liam's stomach churned. He couldn't watch anymore. It wasn't just the money. It was the fact that this was normal to them—the buying, the selling, the ownership of human lives.

The auction continued in cold, calculated efficiency. Women bought men. Men bought women. Each person treated like property, their lives determined by the highest bidder. It was nothing more than an exchange of goods.

But then, the auctioneer's voice cut through the din, laced with an unsettling calm.

"Lot 42," he said. "A young girl. 15 years old. Healthy, obedient. A fine investment for those seeking youth and vitality. We begin the bidding at £3 million."

Liam's chest tightened as the words echoed in his mind. A child? The girl who stepped onto the stage looked no older than twelve. Her wide eyes were filled with fear, her body trembling slightly as she stood before them.

She was too young. Too fragile. Liam's gaze locked onto her, heart hammering in his chest. How could they do this?

Isabella stood beside him, her presence calm and controlled, though something had shifted. She was no longer the poised, untouchable figure she had been. The moment she saw the girl, a subtle tension rippled through her.

"£4 million," someone called from the crowd, snapping Liam from his thoughts.

The bidding was escalating, climbing faster than he could process. He didn't want to look, didn't want to watch as another life was reduced to a price tag.

But Isabella remained silent, her eyes never leaving the girl on stage. Liam could feel her evaluating, calculating, her gaze sharp, as though weighing a decision. She had been so composed, so unshaken by everything that had happened before, but now…

"What do you think, Liam?" Isabella's voice was quiet, but the weight of her words pressed down on him.

Liam didn't respond immediately. His mind raced, but the answer was clear. "She doesn't belong here," he said, his voice low, tinged with anger. "If someone doesn't step in, she'll just be another thing for them to use, another piece in their sick game. She won't survive."

Isabella studied him for a long moment. Her face remained unreadable, but Liam could feel her gaze, assessing him as much as the situation.

The bidding continued. "£5 million."

Isabella didn't hesitate. Her eyes locked with his again, and the question was there, plain as day. "And what should I do?"

Liam's voice was tight with urgency. "You should buy her." His hands clenched at his sides as he forced himself to meet Isabella's gaze. "Add it to my debt—I don't care. Just don't let her end up with them."

A flicker of something crossed Isabella's face. Amusement? Calculation? He couldn't tell. For a moment, she simply watched him, her expression unreadable. Then, with deliberate ease, she raised her paddle.

"£9 million," she called, her voice carrying through the room.

The auctioneer blinked, caught off guard by the sudden surge in price. The room fell silent for a beat, and all eyes turned toward Isabella, the shock palpable. No one had expected her to bid on a child—not like this.

The auctioneer hesitated, clearly weighing whether anyone would challenge the bid. But the seconds stretched, and no one spoke.

"Sold!" the auctioneer declared, his voice almost too eager to end the transaction.

The room exhaled collectively, but the weight of Isabella's bid hung in the air. Liam's eyes followed the girl as she was led down from the stage. Her wide eyes were still filled with confusion, but now there was fear—fear of the unknown, of what her future held.

Isabella didn't speak for a long moment. She just watched the girl, her gaze unreadable. Then, when the girl was brought to them, she finally spoke.

"Where will she go?" Isabella asked, her voice soft, though there was no warmth in it.

Liam nodded, understanding. "There's an orphanage in the East End. A good one. I'll make sure she's taken care of there. She'll be safe."

Isabella's lips curved slightly, though there was no warmth in her expression. She met Liam's gaze before turning back to the girl. "We'll make sure she's safe. No one from that place will ever find her again."

Her words were quiet but absolute, carrying a finality that left no room for argument. Liam nodded, understanding the weight of what she had just promised.

The drive to the orphanage felt endless. The girl sat silently between them, still in shock, her eyes distant. She hadn't said a word since the auction ended, as if her mind had shut down in the face of everything that had happened.

When they reached the orphanage, a modest building tucked away in the East End, the weight of the day settled on Liam's shoulders. Isabella led the way, and Liam followed, his eyes on the girl, unsure of what to say, how to help her.

The orphanage master—a thin man with greying hair and weary eyes—greeted them with a nervous nod. He wasn't used to guests like Isabella.

"You're here for the girl?" he asked, his voice cautious.

"Yes," Isabella said, her voice crisp. She handed him an envelope thick with cash. "Make sure she's safe. She's to have a future. Make sure she's taken care of."

The master blinked, staring at the contents of the envelope in disbelief. The sum was staggering. It was more than the orphanage would see in years.

"This… My Lady, this is far too much," he stammered.

Isabella's gaze didn't falter. "It's what she deserves. Don't waste it. Keep her safe, and when the time comes, she'll be able to use it. Until then, you will protect her."

The man nodded quickly, his face pale. "Of course, My Lady . You have my word."

Liam turned his attention back to the girl. She was standing quietly, still processing everything. He couldn't imagine what she was thinking, but he knew one thing: she had a chance now. A real chance.

As they left the orphanage, Liam glanced at Isabella. "Do you think she'll be alright?"

Isabella glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "She'll have a chance. That's all anyone can ask for."

With that, they left the orphanage behind, the weight of the day still heavy. The world was still the same, but for the girl, at least, there was hope.