While Pregnant, My Alpha Husband Auctioned Me Off for One Dollar Chapter 01
As the auctioneer at Nightfall, an underground auction house on Manhattan’s West Side, I had sold countless items.
Most of the guests came from powerful Packs across North America. Every one of them wore a mask and used scent suppressants to conceal their identity.
I had worked there for five years behind a mask, a voice changer, and a false identity.
After finding out I was pregnant, I decided to walk away for good.
Tonight was supposed to be my final auction.
The event was almost over when a mysterious buyer suddenly halted the proceedings.
“I want to add one last item to tonight’s auction. My pregnant wife.”
The entire room fell silent for two seconds.
He spoke through a voice changer, his tone chillingly calm.
“My first love was divorced and abandoned after her miscarriage, and she nearly died on the operating table. My current wife knows exactly what happened, yet she keeps flaunting her pregnancy in front of her just to twist the knife.”
“I want to punish her, but I can’t bring myself to do it. So I’m asking everyone here to teach her a lesson for me. Every dollar from the auction will go to my first love. I think that’s fair.”
I was pregnant too, and behind my mask, every muscle in my face locked in place.
He added, “Don’t worry. I’m not asking anyone to kill her. I only want to make sure she never dares to do this again. You’re bidding on one week of her time. If no one bids, she can consider herself lucky. But if someone buys her, then she’ll have gotten exactly what she deserves.”
Whispers spread through the audience. Several buyers even lifted their paddles to test the waters.
I drew a deep breath and prepared to follow procedure by announcing the opening bid.
Then the giant screen lit up.
The instant the photograph appeared, my entire body froze.
I could not move.
The woman on the screen was me.
…
“A woman carrying a pup? Her face may be blurred, but look at that body. Three hundred thousand dollars!”
A heavyset man in the front row, wearing a wild boar mask, was the first to raise his paddle. The sick excitement in his voice made my skin crawl.
I stood motionless onstage. My heart seemed to stop for a beat, and the warmth drained from my hands and feet.
The photograph on the screen had been taken the previous morning in front of the full-length mirror in my apartment.
I had been wearing the maternity dress I had just bought, my head lowered as both hands rested gently over the slight curve of my stomach.
I had sent that photograph to only one person.
My husband, Gavin Cole.
He was Alpha of the Cole Pack and CEO of Cole Group.
Which meant the man in the VIP section below, wearing a silver mask and hiding behind a voice changer and scent suppressant, was Gavin.
The same Gavin who kissed my forehead every morning and promised he would protect me and our child forever.
He was the man trying to sell me.
I clenched my teeth and forced my legs to hold me upright.
Special equipment inside the auction house prevented mates from sensing each other, but the moment I realized he had betrayed me, a crushing pain still seized my chest.
“Three hundred thousand dollars isn’t enough.”
A cold wave of Alpha pressure rolled out from Gavin’s section. The people around him immediately lowered their voices beneath the force of it.
Gavin pressed the microphone in front of him, and his electronically altered voice echoed through the cavernous hall.
“As I said, the winning bidder gets her for an entire week. Three hundred thousand dollars isn’t nearly enough to compensate my first love for the trauma of losing her child.”
More buyers began talking and raising their paddles.
“What a ruthless bastard, auctioning off his own wife. Still, I have to admit, this is exciting. Five hundred thousand dollars!”
Another paddle shot into the air.
My stomach cramped violently, and my wolf grew restless.
Then Gavin took out his phone and connected it directly to the auction house’s sound system.
The line rang twice before someone answered.
A weak, slightly nasal female voice came through the speakers.
“Gavin? Aren’t you done yet? I’m all alone at Mount Sinai Hospital, and I’m scared.”
It was Vera Dawson.
The friend I had trusted more than anyone.
So she was the first love Gavin had never let go of.
“Almost done,” Gavin replied.
His voice was still distorted, but his tone carried the same patience he usually reserved for me.
“Vera, I’m preparing a very special gift for you. Something that will finally make things right.”
The other end of the call went quiet for a second.
“Gavin, don’t do anything reckless. Erin is pregnant, after all. I know she keeps flaunting her belly in front of me, and I know she posts those ultrasound scans just to hurt me. But please don’t harm her because of me.”
Vera’s voice grew softer until she sounded as though she were barely holding back tears.
She had played the innocent victim perfectly.
I stared at the audience below without expression.
Whenever I posted ultrasound images on Instagram, I always hid those posts from Vera.
How could she possibly have seen them?
There was only one explanation.
Gavin had taken the screenshots himself and shown them to her, then held her while she cried in his arms and complained about how cruelly I had treated her.
“She doesn’t deserve your sympathy,” Gavin said, his voice turning cold as though he were delivering a righteous verdict. “She deliberately used the pain of your miscarriage to torment you, so she has to face the consequences. Wait for me, Vera. I’ll transfer every dollar from this auction into your account so you’ll never have to worry about your future again.”
He ended the call.
By then, the atmosphere in the auction house had spiraled completely out of control.
The masked buyers no longer bothered to hide their morbid curiosity, voyeuristic hunger, or appetite for cruelty.
“One million dollars! I want the pregnant woman!”
A tall, thin man rose from his seat, his eyes fixed on my photograph on the giant screen.
Gavin leaned back against the leather sofa, visibly satisfied.
He lifted his head and looked straight at me from behind his mask.
“Ms. Nightingale, someone has offered one million dollars. You’re Nightfall’s top auctioneer. Why have you suddenly gone quiet?”
My fingers tightened around the microphone until my knuckles turned white.
I drew a deep breath.
When I finally spoke, my altered voice came out cold and professionally detached.
“Sir, under Nightfall’s rules, any last-minute listing involving a live werewolf requires the highest level of authorization.”
I was trying to buy time.
“Authorization?” Gavin gave a quiet laugh.
With unhurried movements, he reached into his inner suit pocket and placed a black card on the table.
It was Nightfall’s elite access card, issued only to people whose wealth and status had been recognized by multiple Packs.
No more than three people in New York’s upper circles possessed one.
To sell me, Gavin had invoked the highest level of authorization available to him.
“I already submitted my credentials. The system approved the listing.”
His long fingers tapped lazily against the table. He looked completely relaxed, certain that no one in the room could stop him.
“What’s wrong, Ms. Nightingale? Even you think she’s too filthy to open the bidding on?”