Chapter 2: Price of Loyalty

I almost got down on my knees in front of the auctioneer, pride already left behind at the city bus stop. I called in every favor—friends, classmates, even my third-grade teacher. My phone buzzed—"Sorry, Rach, wish I could help. Times are tough." I scraped together every dollar, borrowed from everyone, and still came up fifty bucks short.

The auctioneer rolled his eyes, sneering in his Southern drawl, "You got empty pockets, sweetheart, but you’re putting on airs like you own the place."

Marcus used to drop more than this on a steakhouse tip. The irony burned. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered saving face.

What’s so bad about being called broke? It’s better than actually being broke. My pride was as useless as a coupon for a store that closed last year.

"Sir, can’t you just wait a little longer? Maybe some city councilman or big shot will come buy him?" My voice was small, my hands shaking as I counted the last of my crumpled bills.

This was my whole life’s savings—double shifts, skipped vacations, clearance-rack dinners, all for this moment.

The auctioneer snorted, shaking his head. "The Carter family’s got nothing left—embezzlement scandal, estate seized, authorities tossed the heir onto the auction block to break him. Pfft. City councilmen? Even the homeless won’t touch him."

I looked over. Marcus sat on the cold pavement, arms wrapped tight, but he didn’t shiver. The gossip washed over him. Even with the dirt and bruises, he looked like he belonged on a movie poster.

The ladies pressed forward, eyeing him like a rare painting. Mrs. Pearson, the high school art teacher, murmured about wasted potential. Someone reached out to touch his cheek. A sharp whisper: "He’s still beautiful, even like this."

"You buying or not?" the auctioneer barked.

I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and handed over the last of my cash and a stack of IOUs. My heart thudded as he snatched the money away.

After the sale, I handed Marcus the bill of sale. That slip of paper felt heavier than my future.

"Go on, get out of here. Don’t let me see you again." I waved him off, trying to act cool. I could feel every eye on me, the sting of their judgment burning my cheeks. For a second, I wanted to shrink away—but then a flash of defiance rose up. I stood a little taller, even as my hands shook so bad I almost dropped the paper.

My heart hurt. The ache was sharp, like a cold wind slicing through a broken window. I’d broken off the engagement at the Carter mansion, hoping to salvage something. Who knew I’d end up with nothing—and out a pile of money? I tried to laugh, but it came out a sob.

Spent my savings, broke off the engagement—should’ve been the end. I kicked at a pebble, wishing it would take my regrets with it.

But Marcus didn’t leave. He stuck to me like glue, his shadow trailing mine as I tried to slip away in the crowd. He glanced at me, jaw clenched, pride and humiliation warring in his eyes.

He said quietly, "You gotta have my back now."

I snapped, "Why should I?" My voice bounced off the brick walls, drawing a few stares.

Marcus stayed calm, "I’ve still got some cash stashed."

I paused, then forced a friendly smile. "Sorry, I get loud sometimes. Didn’t mean to scare you. That’s just how I talk." My hands disappeared into my jacket pockets, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and cold.