The screen door slammed. Brandi's footsteps followed instantly—no hesitation.
Melinda hit the grass barefoot, sprinting for the trees, but Brandi was faster.
So much faster.
"Melinda—wait—!"
"No!" Melinda screamed, twisting. She landed a kick. A slap. Nails raked across Brandi's cheek.
Brandi winced, but didn't stop.
She tackled her arms around Melinda's waist, dragging her back as she kicked and thrashed and bit. Her phone dropped, purse flying from her shoulder as they crashed through the open door.
On the other end of the call, Susie could only listen.
"Let go of me!" Melinda shrieked, but Brandi shoved the door shut, locking it with shaking fingers before Melinda could get free.
Melinda scrambled up, bolted back upstairs. Her feet pounded against hardwood. Brandi didn't follow.
She heard the lock click.
The bedroom door slammed shut behind her.
And Melinda collapsed against it, sobbing.
Phone gone.
Purse gone.
Hope is gone.
—
Susie sat at her desk, a pen clutched so tightly between her fingers it cracked. The receiver lay on the desk beside her, on speaker. Melinda's cries echoed through the line, broken and frantic.
Scuffling. A scream. A thud.
Brandi's voice.
Susie's breath caught.
"Let go of me!" Melinda shouted. Her sobs blurred with the distant sound of running feet and a door slamming shut.
Then—nothing.
Silence.
A soft rustle, then—
"... Hello, Susie." Brandi's voice, calm but tired, bled through the line.
Susie's eyes narrowed, voice sharp. "You—"
"It's not as bad as it sounded," Brandi said, cutting her off with a sigh. "She just panicked. I can't let her run out into the woods like that—not after what happened last night. I'm not going to hurt her. I'm not going to sell her. I just want a date. One chance. That's all."
Susie stood, knocking the chair backward as she yelled, "You're fucking going to jail, you psychotic—!"
But the line was cut off.
Susie stared at the phone. Rage simmered hot under her skin. Melinda had been telling the truth. Every word of it. Brandi had her—still had her.
And Susie was nowhere close.
—
Battery dead.
Brandi exhaled through her nose, slipping Melinda's phone back into her purse. She set it carefully on the kitchen table, running a hand through her hair.
God, she was making a mess of this.
She climbed the stairs slowly. Each step felt heavier than the last.
She reached the door.
Pressed her palm to it. "Melinda?"
Silence.
She tried again, softer. "Mel, can you open the door?"
Still nothing.
"I just... I want to take you to brunch. No tricks. No pressure. You can wear what you want, pick the place if you want. We can shop. Walk. Talk. Anything. I know you don't want to be here. I know you want to go home—and you will."
She paused, lowering her voice to a near whisper.
"But I owe you a date. The one you signed up for. Not that auction nightmare. A real one. You deserve that. You deserve to talk about Susie. About this. About everything. Because... she's not who you think she is."
Still no sound from the other side.
"I don't know what she's doing to you, or why you're tied to her like that. But I can tell you she's hiding something. She's using you, Melinda. I don't know how yet, but I'm going to find out."
A soft click echoed as the lock turned.
The door creaked open.
Melinda stood there, puffy-eyed and pale. She didn't look at Brandi—just stared down at the floor.
"... The windows don't open," she murmured. "I checked. I can't jump."
Brandi's throat tightened. "I know."
"I don't have any other option."
Brandi nodded. "That's okay."
She didn't reach for her. She didn't smile. She simply stepped back and said quietly, "Let's find you something to wear."
And Melinda followed.
Wordless.
Tired.
But not fighting.
Melinda followed Brandi in silence down a long, softly lit hall until they reached a walk-in closet. It was sleek and masculine, lined mostly with tailored suits, crisp button-downs, and polished shoes. But on one small rack, barely a quarter of the space, hung a few dresses. Dusty pinks, muted blues, one deep emerald. None of them Brandi's size. None of them her style.
Brandi gave them a glance, then turned to a more casual gray suit set. She held it up, nodding to herself, before glancing at Melinda.
"You'll find some slacks in the drawer below," she said gently. "Or... something from there might work."
Melinda ran a finger along the hem of a navy sheath dress. "I lost one of my shoes," she murmured. "I don't think I'll look decent enough to go out with you."
Brandi huffed a dry laugh. "Have you looked in the mirror? I have some flats in the drawer below too, you won't have to wear them long, I promise."
Melinda looked away, face warming.
"I got those dresses a long time ago," Brandi added, tone softening. "For someone else. Someone who didn't stay."
There was nothing bitter in her voice. Just the echo of something old.
"I'll go change. Take your time." She gave Melinda a small nod before stepping out.
—
An hour later, they were driving. Melinda sat in the passenger seat of Brandi's Maserati, the window cracked just enough to let the wind touch her skin. She held her hands clasped tight in her lap, staring out, trying to memorize every tree, every curve of the road, every turn. But it was pointless.
Even if she ran... she wouldn't know where to go.
"Why do you need to buy women?" she asked suddenly. "You don't seem like someone who has to."
Brandi glanced over, then sighed. "I don't. I don't go to the auctions—not really. Just once before. And... yesterday."
"Why?"
Brandi's fingers tightened around the wheel. "Before it was because I wanted love, wanted to make someone love me, so I brought them. But this time... a friend told me someone would be there. First up offer. Someone that matched what I wanted. What I... needed. They didn't give me a name. Just said to show up if I was serious."
Melinda didn't look at her.
"And then I saw you," Brandi continued. "Terrified. Stunning. Something in me snapped. I knew if I didn't do something, you'd end up with someone like Susie. But worse, and a man."
At the mention of her name, Melinda's brow twitched. She turned her head just as Brandy made a left—and the city rose before them.
Buildings. Taxis. Street signs. People.
Melinda's breath caught. She didn't realize how much tension she'd been carrying until she saw it all again.
She was close to home.
"What is Susie like?" she asked quietly.
Brandi didn't answer right away. "I've only dealt with her for about a year," she finally said. "She's smart. Strategic. Polished."
"And?"
"And she's interested in you now. Which means something. Either she wants something, or she already has something. Done something she needs leverage for? I just don't know what."
Melinda swallowed hard, her eyes locked on the skyline.
She was starting to understand that maybe... neither woman wanted her for simple reasons.
And that realization terrified her more than either of them.
Brandi's eyes stayed on the road, but her voice dipped lower—almost tender.
"You haven't seen it yet. But you're everything to me, Melinda. I hope today... I can show you that I really mean it. That I can give you the kind of life you deserve."
Melinda scoffed, shaking her head with a dry chuckle. "I've been told that before."
Brandi gave a knowing smile, flicking on her turn signal as they curved through the heart of the city. "Not by a billionaire, you haven't."
Melinda turned to look at her, startled. She blinked slowly, but said nothing as they pulled up outside a sleek, nearly empty luxury restaurant tucked between high-end boutiques. Its windows gleamed like crystals under the sun.
Brandi cut the engine and was already at Melinda's door before she could think to move. She opened it smoothly, holding her hand out. Melinda hesitated, then took it.
Her stomach fluttered.
The hostess greeted Brandi by name and led them without delay to a booth tucked in the back, private, but open. Comfortable. Safe. Brandi murmured, "I like it here. They don't stare. They don't ask questions."
Once they were seated, menus in hand, Melinda didn't look at hers.
Instead, she stared across the table and asked plainly, "If I'm not a prisoner, why did you drag me back into that house just to have this date?"
Brandi didn't flinch. She folded her hands on the table and replied, "Because the last woman who ran into the street didn't make it to the city. My security team shot her. She'd taken my gun, planned to talk..."
Melinda froze mid-sip, the water trembling in her glass. Her hand lowered slowly, her voice quiet and uneven. "... You wouldn't let that happen to me?"
Brandi reached out, fingers brushing lightly over Melinda's. "Never. I'm not who I used to be. I've done things. Let things happen. Bad things. But I'm not that woman anymore."
Melinda studied her.
Brandi's jaw clenched. She pulled her hand back. Inhaled sharply through her nose.
"I hurt myself more than anyone else ever could. My temper, my power, it's all tangled up in the wrong things. I scare people. Made them desperate. That's not what I want for you."
Melinda sat in silence, glancing around the pristine restaurant before returning her gaze to Brandi. "So when do I get my life back? My apartment? My job? My stuff?"
Brandi looked at her for a long time, then leaned back. "I don't know."
Melinda's eyes narrowed.
"This isn't how I wanted any of this to go," Brandi said, voice cracking with frustration. "I never planned to keep you. But if you left... you might run. You might talk."
"I won't," Melinda snapped. "I get it now. You can make things disappear. You can make me disappear."
Brandi's smile was soft but hollow. There was a beat of tense silence. Then Brandi reached across the table again.
"If... if you enjoy yourself today. Even a little. Would you consider coming to live with me?"
Melinda blinked slowly, her expression unreadable.
She didn't answer.
But she didn't say no.
Melinda stumbled, caught between a startled reaction and the weight of Brandi's attention. "N- I mean... maybe," she muttered.
"Maybe?" Brandi's voice tilted upward, amused and intrigued.
Melinda winced. "Yeah. I mean, it's not like I can just move in with someone I don't really know... especially when that someone bought me and practically kidnapped me. Even if you are paying for dinner."
Brandi's smile only widened. "That's good to hear." She repeated it like a mantra. "Maybe... maybe." Her eyes flicked to the menu. "Order whatever you want. Big, small. Expensive. You deserve more than just a fancy dinner anyway. I owe you more than that."
Melinda nodded stiffly and began to scan the menu, though it was hard to focus. She could feel Brandi watching her, head tilted slightly, not even pretending to look at her own options.
Finally, Melinda looked up. "Why are you staring?"
Brandi didn't flinch. "Because I already know what I want. And I wasn't lying, Melinda. When I said I loved you—even though I didn't know you. It's not about what I know yet. It's what I felt. And now that you're here, I want to know you. I want to be with you. Please let me. I swear, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to do anything but love you, and pray... that maybe you'll love me back."
There was a long pause. Then:
"I'll just have water," Melinda said quietly. "And a burger."
Brandi smiled and waved the waitress over, smoothly placing the order for both of them. She didn't ask if Melinda wanted anything else.
After the waitress left, Brandi leaned in again. "We have arrangements later, at a boutique downtown. You can pick out some clothes that actually fit, maybe grab a few things you've always wanted. After that, we'll catch a play. Then dinner somewhere in the city. Somewhere public. Somewhere you might feel... safer."
She faltered, visibly aware she was rambling.
"I know this is strange. I keep saying the same things, I just—"
"I want to go back to my apartment," Melinda cut in, her voice sharp with sudden resolve. "I want my things. My life. Not this... this thing you're dragging me into."
Brandi straightened slowly. "You could still go to work," she said, tone shifting carefully. "Get your car. A few personal items. And stay at one of my houses—"
"No," Melinda snapped. "You never planned to let me go. You bought me. You're keeping me like I'm something you own."
Her voice rose with each word, choking out like sobs. "I want out. I want to go home. And I never want to see you again."
Brandi's face twitched.
And then she slammed her hand down on the table with a crack. Utensils jumped. Water sloshed. A hush rippled through the restaurant.
"You ought to watch yourself," she hissed, voice low and sharp. "I'm being nice now. But that can change. Fast."
Then—she froze. Her breath caught. Slowly, she pulled her hand back. Straightened her blazer. Her chest rose and fell.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, trembling. "I don't let that happen anymore. I'm sorry."
Her voice broke slightly. "I just... I really want to be with you, Melinda. I'm begging you—please, just let today play out. See how you feel by the end of it."
Melinda stared at her, cold and silent.
The waitress approached, cautious, holding a plate in each hand. She placed the burger gently in front of Melinda, her gaze flicking between the two women.
Brandi didn't speak again.
Melinda picked up the burger.
But her hands were shaking.
—
Susie's heels clicked against the polished wood floor of her office as she paced in erratic, anxious circles. She hit redial on her phone for what felt like the hundredth time—but the call ended before it even rang.
Dead. Or blocked. Or off.
She cursed under her breath, rubbing a hand over her face.
Something was wrong. Melinda never ignored calls like this. Not this many. And that call last night—her voice trembling, terrified, whispering about an auction... about Brandi Brentford.
Susie's throat tightened. Was Brandi hurting her?
Or worse?
Her eyes flicked to her desk. The stack of investment reports sat there—taunting her. She'd looked over them obsessively the night before, checking and rechecking the numbers. The transactions. The documents were signed under Melinda's name. Everything seemed airtight.
But now...
Had they taken Melinda because of her? Did someone assume she wouldn't pay? That she was stalling? She knew it had been five years already, but she told them she needed time, she needed to settle into the position, and they gave her all this time.
She didn't think they had forgotten, just... weren't collecting yet.
Desperate, Susie snatched up her phone again and dialed her contact, the one from the other world, the one who never called unless they were warning her
The line clicked.
A younger man answered, his voice slurred and smug. "Yeah? Who's this?"
In the background, Susie could hear the loud shuffle of cash, the creak of chairs, and—something else. The distant murmur of voices. Women? She couldn't tell.
"I need to know if you did something to Melinda Carter," Susie said tightly. "I swear to god, if you—"
"Whoa, whoa. You mean the girl with the nice legs and the little shaky voice? Cute one? Bossy?" He chuckled. "Yeah. She's got a new boss now. Guess you weren't at that auction, you shoulda seen what her new owner shot that man?"
"She's a nice shot"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Susie snapped. "Is she okay?"
"Look up Brandi Brentford," the man said, yawning. "See if you like your employee's new owner. Maybe she posted her or not, give her a call? Ask her what's up with your girl. Ain't this Susie, you got her number..."
The line went dead.
Susie's hand trembled as she hit redial immediately.
This time, the same voice picked up with a groan. "Jesus, again? Hang on. I'll get you to the real boss."
She heard shuffling, something crinkling, heavy. Trash bags? Paper?
Then another voice came on the line. Calm. Older. More measured. It was the one from yesterday.
"You're loud this morning," he said.
"What the fuck is going on?" Susie snapped. "You said I had until the end of the month. And now your little freak is talking about how I should call Melinda's new owner? I told you I'd have your money."
The man chuckled quietly, but it didn't sound amused. "And I told you, I'm a man of my word. Good or bad. I didn't touch your precious, Melinda. Didn't tell anyone either. I've kept my end of the deal."
"Then why - why is your guy saying she has a new owner?! That she was sold? To Brandi Brentford?"
There was a pause.
And then the man spoke slowly. "I don't work for Brentford. But it sounds like she's circling pretty close around your life. That should concern you."
"I know she is," Susie hissed. "She's been trying to invest in Hillsdale. She's interested in Melinda, but I thought—"
"Well," the man cut her off, "maybe you ought to think a little harder about what Brandi Brentford wants. And how close you've let her get. We ain't got the girl, or at least anymore..."
Click.
Silence.
Susie lowered the phone from her ear, jaw clenched, heart pounding.
Melinda was gone.
—
The door slammed open.
"Jonathan!" Martian's voice barked from deep inside the office, low and sharp. "Get your ass in here."
Jonathan winced. He plastered on a crooked smile as he stepped in, closing the door behind him with a gentle click—like he thought it might soften the blow.
It didn't.
Martian didn't even look up at first. Just sat behind his desk, fingers steepled in front of him, quiet.
Then he asked, almost too calmly, "What did you do?"
Jonathan hesitated. "You'll love it, I swear—"
"What. Did. You. Do."
Jonathan let out a weak chuckle. "So, I've been in touch with Brandi again. You know, Brentford. I figured... Why not try to rope her back in? She's loaded, she pays in full, none of that credit bullshit, and she doesn't argue about the price."
Martian's eyes narrowed.
Jonathan went on, rushing now. "And then, jackpot. I saw this girl—Melinda Carter. She signed up for one of the sweepstakes, right? And she fits exactly what Brandi told me she liked. Clean. Sharp. Kind of skittish, but classy. So I brought her in. I made her the opening lot. Sold her to Brandi for eleven point five mill, then she shot that round guy and dropped another couple of stacks for the girls to go free, more than we expected to get for the night. We got paid. Big. But you didn't expect the 'atonement' money-."
He scoffed like it was clever. "It's a win-win. Brandi gets her girl, we get a bag. Right?"
CRACK.