I walked back into my house, the house Derek and I had chosen together, and it felt like a stranger's home. The photos on the wall of our smiling faces were a mockery. I moved through the rooms in a daze, my earlier joy replaced by a chilling silence.

That evening, Derek came home. He was a perfect actor. He walked in, smiling, and came straight to me, placing a kiss on my cheek.

"How are my two favorite people?" he asked, his hand resting on my belly.

I flinched at his touch but forced a weak smile. "We're fine. Just tired."

"I brought you something," he said, walking into the kitchen. He returned with a glass of warm milk. "For the baby. You need to keep your strength up."

He held it out to me, his eyes full of fake concern. The same eyes that had looked at his friends with such cruel amusement just hours before. My stomach turned. I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that this milk was not just milk.

"I'm not thirsty, Derek," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"Just a little, for the baby," he coaxed, his smile tightening at the edges. "Don't you want our son to be strong and healthy?"

Our son. The words were poison.

"No, really, I can't," I insisted, pushing the glass away gently.

His face changed in an instant. The mask of the loving husband fell away, replaced by a flicker of irritation. It was so fast I might have missed it if I hadn't been looking for it.

"Aleida, drink the milk," he said, his voice low and firm. It wasn't a request. It was an order.

He pressed the glass to my lips. I had no choice but to drink, the warm, slightly sweet liquid sliding down my throat. I felt a sense of dread with every swallow.

Soon after, a heavy drowsiness washed over me. My limbs felt like lead, my eyelids too heavy to keep open.

"I think I need to lie down," I murmured, my words slurring.

Derek guided me to the couch, his touch now feeling like a spider's caress. "That's right, honey. You just rest."

The world faded into a blurry haze. I was vaguely aware of other figures in the room, shadows moving in the periphery of my vision before I slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I woke up hours later, my body aching and a strange, sticky residue on my skin. I felt violated, a deep, primal wrongness that settled in my bones. The house was quiet. Derek had already left for work.

My mind was surprisingly clear. The rage from yesterday had sharpened into a cold, focused purpose. I stood up and walked to the bookshelf in the living room. Tucked behind a row of classic novels was a small, black box. A hidden camera. Derek had installed it months ago, claiming it was for "security." I now knew what he was securing.

I took out the memory card and inserted it into my laptop. My hands were steady. I had to see. I had to know the full extent of their betrayal.

I fast-forwarded through the empty hours until I saw movement. The recording was from last night, after I had passed out.

The screen showed Derek letting two people into the house. My heart stopped. It was Else Ortega and Edison Hubbard.

I watched, my breath held tight, as they stood over my unconscious body on the couch.

Else looked down at me, her face a mask of pure hatred. "She looks so peaceful. It's disgusting."

"It's just the sedative," Derek said, his voice casual. "It works like a charm. She'll be out for hours."

Edison leaned in close, a lecherous smile on his face. "So, this is what she's like when she's pliable. This makes things much easier."

"We're just testing the new serum tonight," Else said, pulling a small vial from her purse. "The 'submissive serum,' as Edison so elegantly calls it. I want to make sure it's perfect for the party. I want her completely aware but unable to resist. I want her to know what's happening to her."

My stomach lurched. They had been planning this for weeks. Drugging me, testing things on me in my own home.

"Why do you hate her so much, Else?" Edison asked, almost admiringly.

"She tried to take him from me," Else spat, gesturing toward Derek. "She filled his head with ideas of a normal life, a family. She tried to make him forget what was important. Me."

Derek looked at Else with an expression of pure adoration. "No one could ever make me forget you."

Then, a new person entered the frame. A man I didn't recognize. He was tall and brutish, with cold, dead eyes.

"This is the guy I was telling you about," Edison said. "He's willing to pay top dollar for a 'test run' before the party. It'll be a nice little bonus for our pot."

"The party is in two days, when Else officially 'returns'," Derek confirmed. "Everything is set."

I watched in horror as Else took a swab from inside my cheek. "Just need to test the sedative levels. Make sure she's completely under."

She looked at the result on a small device. "Perfect. She's completely helpless."

They talked for a few more minutes, their voices a low murmur of conspiracy, finalizing their plans for my public degradation. Then Derek and Else left, leaving Edison and the strange man alone with me.

I couldn't watch anymore. I slammed the laptop shut, a strangled cry escaping my lips. The depth of their depravity was bottomless. This wasn't just a bet. It was a systematic, long-term plan of abuse and exploitation.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the despair down. I had to be smart. I had to be strong.

Suddenly, I heard the front door open. "Aleida? I'm home early!"

It was Derek.

Panic seized me. I quickly put the laptop away, my hands shaking.

"I'm in here," I called out, trying to keep my voice even.

He walked in, smiling. "I was worried about you. You seemed so out of it last night. Are you feeling better?"

"Much better," I lied, my heart pounding. "I was just resting."

He seemed to believe me. "Good. I need to run upstairs for a minute to grab a file."

As soon as he was out of sight, my survival instincts kicked in. His phone was on the coffee table. This was my chance.

I snatched it. His password was Else’s birthday. Of course.

I quickly swiped through his apps. It looked normal. Too normal. Then I noticed it—a slight shimmer at the bottom of the screen. I pressed my thumb on it, and a second, hidden interface appeared. It was a completely separate system on the same phone.

My fingers flew across the screen, opening a messaging app I didn't recognize. The first person on his priority list was Else. Their chat history was filled with vile, twisted messages about me.

Then I saw a group chat. I clicked on it.

The name of the group made the air leave my lungs.

"Aleida's Auction."

My finger trembled as I tapped on the group chat. "Aleida's Auction."

The contents were worse than anything I could have imagined.

It was a log, a disgusting record of messages from Derek’s friends—men I had hosted in my home, men who had smiled at me and congratulated me on my pregnancy.

My eyes scanned the screen, and my vision blurred. I felt a wave of dizziness, and I had to grip the edge of the table to keep from falling.

The chat was filled with bids. Not just for the paternity bet, but for something else. I scrolled up, my heart pounding a sick, heavy beat.

There it was. A schedule. A "booking schedule." My name was at the top. Underneath were dates, times, and names. Edison. Mark. Steven. A list of Derek's friends. Next to each name was a dollar amount.

They had been selling me.

While I was drugged and unconscious, they had been letting these men into my bed. My home. My body.

A wave of pure, undiluted humiliation washed over me. I wasn't a wife. I wasn't even a person to them. I was a commodity. A thing to be used, abused, and sold to the highest bidder.

A new message popped up in the chat from a man named Frank.

"Is she available tonight? I'm willing to double the last bid."

Derek’s reply appeared almost instantly. "Sorry, Frank. She's off the market until the party. Big finale, you know."

Edison added a laughing emoji. "Yeah, think of her like a high-end escort. You have to book the main event in advance."

An escort. They were comparing me to an escort. The disgust was so intense it felt like a physical poison in my veins.

More messages flooded in, each one a new layer of degradation. They joked about my body, my "performance," my utter lack of awareness.

Just then, a notification appeared at the top of the screen. A new message from Else.

I clicked on it.

"Big news, everyone! My flight is booked! I'll be back in two days. We're having a welcome home party at The Grand Oak Pavilion. You're all invited!"

My blood ran cold. The Grand Oak Pavilion. That was where Derek and I had our wedding reception. Another sacred memory they planned to defile.

"And I have a little surprise to get everyone excited for the big prize," her message continued.

An image loaded.

My stomach dropped. I felt a violent urge to gag.

It was a sonogram picture. My sonogram picture. The one I had framed on my bedside table.

Beneath the image of my unborn child, Else had added a caption in bold, garish letters.

"THE POT OF GOLD."

A tremor started in my hands and spread through my entire body. A dark premonition, a certainty of what they planned for me at that party, began to form in my mind. This wasn't just about humiliation. This was about something far more sinister.

I had to act fast. I couldn't let them win.

With shaking fingers, I quickly forwarded the entire chat history, the photos, the schedule—everything—to a secure email address I had created years ago. I backed it up to a cloud drive. I made copies of copies. Evidence.

Footsteps on the stairs. Derek was coming back down.

I quickly closed the hidden interface and placed the phone back on the table, exactly where it had been. I turned just as he walked into the room.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You look pale."

"I just felt the baby kick," I lied, forcing a shaky smile. "It startled me."

He seemed to buy it, his expression softening into that familiar mask of fake concern. The mask that now made my skin crawl.

"Well, speaking of good news," he said, his smile widening. "I was just talking to Else. She's coming home! We're throwing a party for her at The Grand Oak Pavilion in two days. To celebrate."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "The Pavilion? Derek, I don't know… I'm so tired these days."

"Nonsense," he said, his tone instantly dismissive. "It's for Else. After everything you put her through, it's the least you can do to be there and welcome her home properly."

There it was again. The lie. The foundation of their entire sick fantasy.

"I really don't feel up to it," I said, my voice pleading.

His smile vanished. "Aleida, you are going. This is not a discussion." His voice was low, threatening. "You owe her this. You will be there, you will be smiling, and you will show everyone what a happy, supportive family we are."

He stepped closer, his presence suddenly menacing. He grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong.

"Do you understand me?" he hissed, his face inches from mine.

I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but cold, empty darkness. No love. No remorse. Just a chilling determination.

I had no choice. For my plan to work, I had to go. I had to walk into the lion's den.

"Yes," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I understand."

He let go of my arm and forced me toward the door. "Good. Now go get ready. We need to make a good impression."

He was dragging me to my own execution. But he didn't know that I was the one who had just set the trap.

The moment we arrived at the Grand Oak Pavilion, I felt their eyes on me. Dozens of them. It wasn't the friendly gaze of wedding guests, but the cold, appraising stare of vultures circling their prey. Every man in that room, men I once called friends, looked at me with a mixture of greed and contempt. They were looking at the "Pot of Gold."

Else, standing in the center of the room like a queen holding court, saw us. A triumphant, vicious smile spread across her face.

"Aleida! You made it!" she called out, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. The room fell silent. "Everyone, the guest of honor has arrived!"

A wave of cruel, knowing laughter rippled through the crowd.

Derek pushed me forward, his hand a vise on my back, propelling me toward the center of the room, toward Else.

I stopped in front of her, my body trembling with a mixture of fear and rage. "What is this, Else?" I asked, my voice low and shaking. "What is this sick game?"

She feigned innocence, her eyes widening. "Game? Aleida, I don't know what you're talking about. This is my welcome home party. A celebration."

"Don't lie to me," I hissed. "I know everything."

Her mask of innocence shattered, replaced by a sneer of pure hatred. "You know nothing, you stupid bitch. You think you can just steal my brother and my life and get away with it?"

"I tried to help you!" I cried, my voice cracking.

"You tried to get rid of me!" she shrieked, her face contorting with rage. "But I'm back. And now, you're going to pay."

She raised her hand as if to strike me. I flinched, but before she could, Derek stepped between us.

"That's enough, Else," he said, but he wasn't protecting me. He was protecting his plan. He turned to me, his face a cold, hard mask. "You are embarrassing us."

He grabbed a glass of orange juice from a passing tray and thrust it into my hand. "Now, you are going to apologize to my sister. For everything."

Apologize? For what? For being the victim of their twisted revenge plot?

"No," I said, my voice firm. The one word was a rebellion.

Derek's eyes flashed with fury. "Don't test me, Aleida."

Else stepped forward, a sly, cunning look on her face. "It's okay, Derek. Let's not ruin the party. How about a toast instead? To new beginnings. Aleida, you'll drink to that, won't you?"

She took the glass from my hand and held it up. It was a trap. I knew it. This was the submissive serum. This was the final act of their play.

I wanted to run, to scream, to fight my way out of there. But I was surrounded. Trapped.

I looked at Derek, a last, desperate plea in my eyes. He just stared back at me, his expression unreadable.

I took the glass. My hand was shaking so badly that some of the juice spilled over the side. I brought it to my lips and drank.

The effect was almost instantaneous. A strange, chemical warmth spread through my veins. My muscles went slack, my thoughts became foggy. My body was no longer my own.

I dropped the glass, and it shattered on the floor. My legs gave out, and I collapsed, falling backward.

Edison Hubbard caught me, his arms wrapping around me like a cage. His breath was hot on my neck. "There we go," he whispered. "Much more cooperative."

I was conscious, but I couldn't move. I was a prisoner in my own body. I could hear them talking, their voices distant and distorted.

"The serum works perfectly," Else said, her voice filled with triumph. "She knows everything that's happening, but she can't do a thing to stop it."

"Now, let the real party begin," Edison said, his hands starting to roam over my body.

I tried to scream, to fight, but my body wouldn't obey. I was trapped, helpless, a puppet for their sick amusement.

I looked at Derek, my eyes screaming the words I couldn't say. Help me. Please.

He just glanced at his watch. "The bet closes in ten minutes," he announced to the room, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Then, a sharp, agonizing pain shot through my abdomen. It was a cramp so intense it stole my breath.

"The baby," I managed to gasp, the words a hoarse, desperate whisper. "Something's wrong with the baby."

Else just laughed, a high, cruel sound. "Don't worry. You won't remember a thing in the morning. The serum causes amnesia."

She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper in my ear. "Now be a good girl and entertain our guests."

The pain intensified, a blinding, tearing agony. I felt a warm gush of liquid between my legs.

My last conscious thought before the darkness consumed me was of my son. My poor, innocent son.

And then, nothing.