Seeing Tyler laugh out loud, Roger finally relaxed as he pulled the ID back.

That was when I remembered something that crushed what little hope I had left.

After I came back home, Roger had cut off my waist-length hair while I was asleep.

My parents had also changed my name to Bambi.

Back then, Ollie never allowed me to cut my hair. He said long hair made me look like a little princess.

My foster parents had named me Mia, saying I was their precious girl.

But to someone like Tyler, a low-level enforcer, the only thing he really knew was that his boss's foster sister was called Mia. He had only seen me from a distance a few times.

And men like him were never allowed to look at me too closely.

Once, a small-time boss stared at me for a few seconds too long, and Ollie gouged out both his eyes.

After that, no other men in the compound dared to look me straight in the eye again.

So Tyler only remembered my name and my signature long hair. There was no way he could recognize me now.

When I realized this, despair sank deep into my chest.

Roger flattered Tyler a little more, then hung up the call.

Right away, my parents asked, "They're good for the 40 thousand, right?"

Roger grunted, then turned his cold eyes on me. "You never should've been born 18 years ago. You were nothing but a leech stealing my nutrients in the womb, and you almost killed Mom in childbirth. You owe us, and now, it's time to pay it back."

Bitterness filled me.

It was only recently that I realized my parents had always hated me, just because my mother nearly died giving birth to me, and Roger had been weak and sickly after sharing the womb with me.

To them, I was nothing but an unlucky burden.

So when I was born, my mother let the traffickers take me without lifting a finger to stop them.

And yet, all these years, I kept clinging to the hope that my real family had never given up searching for me.

I thought they would love me the way normal families on TV loved their kids.

So when I finally escaped the compound, the first thing I did was go to the media and the police, begging them to help me find my parents.

I never realized that when they welcomed me back with smiles, it wasn't because they wanted me.

It was only because of public pressure.

They were the ones who had abandoned me in the first place.

Lying on the ground with tears streaming down my face, I saw my mother frown.

"Right. If it weren't for this useless girl, Roger wouldn't have been born weak. And if it weren't for her, I wouldn't have nearly bled to death in childbirth. She's nothing but a curse!"

My father joined in, shouting insults at me.

I forced myself to speak through the tears, "I don't want anyone to get hurt. That's why I'm telling you to let me go. If you take me there, someone's gonna die!"

They froze, then glanced at each other before breaking into laughter.

"Way to jinx yourself. But it's not certain whether you die or not. So, I suggest that you be smart, and maybe you'll keep your life."

My father cursed under his breath and yanked a black hood down over my head.

I wanted to tell them they had it all wrong.

When I said someone was going to die, I wasn't talking about myself.

I meant them.

But staring at this cruel and heartless family, I decided I wouldn't try to save them anymore.

This time, they could experience for themselves what it felt like to live a fate worse than death.

Two days later, the car finally stopped. My family dragged me out, and the second they yanked the hood off, a wave of sadness hit me.

I had guessed correctly. It was the house I'd lived in for 18 years.

The statues at the front gate still had the dark circles I'd drawn on them as a kid, back when I thought it was hilarious.

I glanced around, caught up in my thoughts, when my father suddenly slapped me so hard that my ears rang.

"Keep your damn eyes down. Don't look at things you're not supposed to."

It was a while before the gates creaked open. Then out stepped a tall, broad-shouldered man.

It was Tyler.

Roger hurried forward, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Hello, Mr. Ty. We brought the girl, just like you asked. So, uh…"

Tyler's gaze swept over me, and he frowned.

"You didn't have to rough her up this badly."

Over the past two days, my family had beaten me more times than I could count. To keep me quiet, they'd even taped my mouth shut so I wouldn't blurt anything like last time.

"No choice," my father said quickly, putting on a fake smile. "She's stubborn. It's hard to keep her in line."

Tyler gave a short nod. "Doesn't matter. Even the toughest girls break once they're here.

"Anyway, lucky timing. Mrs. Fuller is picking a few strong ones today for the procedure. If she's chosen, and she actually delivers a baby later, you'll get a bonus—maybe an extra few grand."

My stomach dropped.

Mrs. Fuller. He was talking about Margaret Fuller, my foster mother.

Before I could even process, they shoved black hoods back over all our heads.

"No outsiders are allowed to see the grounds," Tyler said. "You'll get them off once we're there."

My parents and Roger stiffened, but Tyler said a few more things to calm them down a little.

We were marched through what felt like endless tunnels and factories.

Finally, Tyler's voice came again. "Alright, take them off."

The hoods were pulled away, and I blinked against the dim light.

Around me stood a dozen girls my age. Their bodies were bruised, their faces streaked with tears and fear.

Tyler pulled out his phone and dialed. "Mrs. Fuller, the girls are ready. You can come make your pick."

"Good. I'll be right there," came Margaret's voice on the other end.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

The sharp click of high heels echoed closer and closer.

Then the door swung open. Margaret's eyes met mine.

I wanted to cry out and ask her to save me, but with the gag over my mouth, all I managed was a muffled whimper.

Margaret hesitated, her brow furrowing. She pointed at me. "Who's this?"

"Oh, she just came in," Tyler said quickly. "Her family's right here. Once you sign, they'll get their money and be on their way."

My family bent their backs, nodding and greeting her with fake respect.

Margaret gave a curt nod, her eyes flicking over me. Then she shook her head.

"Send her to the winery. She's too skinny. I can't use her."

My chest tightened in terror.

The man running the winery hated me. If I ended up there, he would kill me even if he found out my real identity.

I collapsed in front of Margaret, looking up at her with a desperate, pleading gaze.

For the briefest second, something flickered in her eyes. She turned back to Tyler.

"Did you check her identity?"

Tyler nodded, signaling to Roger, who dug into his pocket and pulled out my ID.

"She looks fine enough. Sure, she's been beaten a little, but she'll do for the winery."

He handed the ID to Margaret.

The moment she held it, I saw her fingers tremble, her knuckles turning white.