Not Prey

My name is Veronica, the only daughter left behind by the former madam of the Scott Mansion. Ever since my mother passed away, my father has focused all his attention on his favored concubine, Lilith. Lilith is sharp-tongued and cruel; she can't bear to see me have even the slightest happiness. Inside the household, I live worse than a servant. Each day, I endure bland meals and am forced to do all kinds of hard, exhausting chores. If I slip up even slightly, I immediately suffer Lilith's beatings and scoldings. My father turns a blind eye as if I aren't his own daughter. I thought life couldn't be any harsher, but I never imagined Lilith harbored even more wicked schemes. That night, as usual, I finished my work and was about to return to my shabby little wooden hut to rest. Just as I stepped into the yard, two unfamiliar burly men covered my mouth and nose. I struggled desperately, but they were too strong; I couldn't break free. Before long, I lost consciousness. When I woke again, I found myself lying on a soft bed. The room was luxuriously furnished, and a pungent scent of perfume filled the air. A chill ran through me—I had a foreboding feeling. At that moment, a provocatively dressed woman walked in. She looked me up and down, a trace of contempt curling at the corners of her mouth. "You're quite pretty. Tonight's top star will be you." I realized immediately—I had been sold into the brothel by Lilith. Despair surged over me like a tide, and I couldn't hold back my tears. I wanted to escape, but the door was locked tight, and the windows were nailed shut. I was like a bird trapped in a cage, helpless and at the mercy of others. As night fell, the brothel grew lively. The brothel madam dressed me up flamboyantly and forcefully led me into a large hall. The hall was crowded with men of all kinds; their eyes, like hungry wolves, fixed on me, making me feel deeply uneasy. The brothel madam stepped onto the stage and shouted loudly, "Dear guests, tonight's main event begins. This young lady is our newcomer, and the auction for her virginity starts now, with a starting bid of one hundred taels!" The men in the audience began to fervently raise their bids. "One hundred fifty taels!" "Two hundred taels!" "Three hundred taels!" I stood on the stage, feeling like a piece of merchandise, bought and sold at their whim. I closed my eyes, tears welling up in my eyes. Just as I thought I was about to fall into the tiger's jaws, the hall's door was suddenly kicked open. A man dressed in a black brocade robe stepped inside. He was tall, with a stern face, and a gaze that carried a chilling, intimidating coldness. His arrival instantly fell the entire hall silent. The Brothel Madam hurried forward, wearing a flattering smile: "Sir, you're late." The man ignored the Brothel Madam and fixed his gaze on me. He frowned and asked coldly, "Who is the buyer?" A corpulent, ruddy-faced merchant stood up proudly and said, "It's me. I paid five hundred taels for her." The man didn't even glance at the merchant; he ordered his followers behind him, "Drag him out, skin him, and hang him on the city wall." The followers immediately stepped forward and dragged the merchant out. The merchant was terrified out of his mind, begging desperately, but the man remained unmoved. Soon, agonized screams came from outside, sending a chill through me. The man came up to me, took off his coat, and draped it over my shoulders. "Come with me." His voice remained cold, yet I sensed a trace of security within it. I nodded and followed him out of the brothel. Seated in the carriage, I couldn't help but ask, "Thank you, sir, for rescuing me. May I know your full name?" "Mark Hawthorn." He replied simply. "Mr. Hawthorn, why did you save me?" I asked once more. Mark Hawthorn glanced at me and said, "I don't like to see good women traded like property before my eyes."