If You're Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me - Chapter 14

Caught off guard, the slightly parted lips were pressed against the teeth and ended up tearing slightly. The swelling on her face, which had subsided slightly during the day, puffed up again.

Reeling from the shock, she couldn’t keep her balance and was thrown to the floor along with the blanket.

Willow, who had somehow retrieved a pair of scissors, began to cut her clothes down the middle. The blades came dangerously close to causing serious injury.

“Willow! What are you doing?”

Even Marianne, who had rushed in belatedly, seemed startled as she grabbed Willow’s arm.

“Let go! If you knew what she was planning behind our backs, you’d do worse than me.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Marianne’s question prompted Willow to search Georgiana’s limp body until he found the hidden papers she had carefully tucked away.

His hands, rough and merciless, unfolded the precious document, and his eyes gleamed like those of a demon as he read the words on the white paper.

“Ha, I thought it was just a rumor, but it turns out it’s true.”

“P-please, give it back.”

Georgiana reached desperately for what she believed to be her last hope, but Willow, holding the paper high above his head, shook it out of her reach. The thin sheet of paper fluttered precariously between his thick fingers.

Marianne, now realizing something was wrong, pressed Willow for an explanation. “What is that?”

“Well, those guys at the gambling den said they saw her coming out of the Mayfield office. You know, the ship that sells women to the New World? She was planning to leave on that.”

“What? So you’re saying she was planning to run away without telling us?”

“Exactly. Otherwise, why would she have this contract?”

Willow’s affirmation made Marianne glare at Georgiana with venom in her eyes. Startled, Georgiana instinctively denied it.

“N-no, Mother, that’s not true.”

“Not true? After everything we’ve done to feed and raise you, this is how you repay us?”

Marianne approached and grabbed a fistful of Georgiana’s short hair, yanking it violently.

Through her blurry vision, Georgiana saw Willow tear the contract to pieces.

“No!”

“Not happening,” Willow sneered as he shredded the document. He then tossed the pieces over her prostrate form, the fragments of paper fluttering down like white butterflies before her wide, terrified eyes.

“We can sell this.”

Willow pocketed the boarding pass, likely intending to use it as gambling money. As dawn slowly broke outside, her world turned entirely to darkness. Hope had vanished.

What had she done to deserve such cruelty from the heavens?

With her soul reduced to ashes, Georgiana could do nothing but endure the violence inflicted upon her.

“If it weren’t for that ballet contract, I’d make sure you paid for this,” Willow muttered as he kicked her several times in the stomach before leaving the room.

He turned to Marianne as he went. “Mom, keep a close eye on her so she can’t escape.”

“Of course. Are you heading out again?”

“The ship leaves today, so if we want to sell her, it has to be today. That girl can never stay put, can she? That’s why she keeps getting fired from every governess job.”

Clicking his tongue in disgust, Willow left the room.

Marianne dragged a chair in front of the door, blocking it as she sat down with her arms crossed. “Ungrateful wretch! As soon as the ballet contract is over, I’m selling you off.”

After seething for a while, Marianne began to nod off, unable to fight the drowsiness that came with the early morning hours. There were still a couple of hours left before sunrise.

As Marianne’s body swayed, the chair creaked, eventually tipping over and crashing to the floor.

“This is all your fault!” Marianne blamed Georgiana, rubbing the spot where her head had hit the floor.

When there was no response from Georgiana, who lay curled up on the floor like a lifeless insect, Marianne checked to see if she was still breathing by holding a hand to her nose. After a brief moment of consideration, she locked the door and left.

“Without the contract and the ticket, there’s nothing she can do now. But just in case…”

With a low mutter, the sound of metal clinking echoed through the thin walls as Marianne wrapped the door handle in chains, securing it tightly.

But it didn’t matter—Georgiana had lost all hope. She thought it might be better to starve to death right there.

Her mind, pushed to its limits, began to entertain thoughts of a more drastic choice.

With great difficulty, she lifted her swollen eyelids and stared blankly at the pale light filtering through the window.

Yes. Rather than being sold into prostitution, it might be better to die.

Georgiana, struggling to lift her bruised and weak body, slowly crawled towards the window with trembling arms and legs. The dull pain spread throughout her body, and cold sweat covered her despite the short distance.

Her vision alternated between blackness and clarity, as if she were teetering on the edge of an abyss. If she let go for even a moment, she feared she would collapse and never get up again.

Grinding her teeth, she clawed her way forward and finally reached her destination.

The window, with its twisted frame, was difficult to open, making it impossible for her to jump out. Even if she could open it, falling from the second floor would likely only break her bones.

But it wasn’t the window she had her sights set on.

Just below the window, where the draft from outside seeped in, stood a cheap wooden nightstand, rough and unfinished.

Normally, she was careful to avoid the sharp corners, but now it was exactly what she needed.

She was sure that a single blow to her head from the sharp edge would bring about the desired outcome.

Barely able to hold herself upright, Georgiana let out a deep sigh, grabbed the edge of the nightstand, and lowered her head towards it. But at that moment…

Tap, tap.

The sound of small raindrops hitting the window reached her ears. Just before her head connected with the corner, she paused.

The sky outside, moments before dawn, had been clear, not a cloud in sight. There was no reason for the sound of rain.

In her confusion, she turned her head and saw a man wearing a hat tilted at an angle. Leaning casually against the window frame, his expression remained as calm and aloof as ever.

His dark hair and blue eyes seemed to blend perfectly with the early morning light, and if not for the sound, she might never have noticed him.

How long had he been standing there? And how had he even reached the second floor?

Questions swirled chaotically in her mind.

Lockwood, who had effortlessly opened the broken window she had struggled with, stepped inside as if it were his own home. Though his frame was as large as a predator’s, he moved with the grace and lightness of a cat.

The old floorboards, which usually creaked under even the slightest weight, remained eerily silent beneath his feet.

Before she could even ask why he was there, his arm reached out towards her.

But Georgiana turned away from his hand, which seemed intended to help her up. Far from being grateful for his timely arrival, she found his presence infuriating.

It would have been better not to see him at all.

Lowering her head to avoid his gaze, she saw the reflection of a woman in his polished shoes—someone who looked even more wretched than when they first met.

At least she had been calm then. Now, her hair was a tangled mess, thanks to Marianne’s rough handling. Anyone who saw her would think she looked like a beggar or a madwoman.

If only he had arrived a few seconds later, she wouldn’t have to face him like this.

Georgiana let out a deep sigh, lamenting how even dying alone was not an easy task.

“Are you going to stay like that? They might come back.”

He gestured towards the door with a jerk of his chin, as if urging her to hurry. His arm shook slightly, as if to emphasize his point.

“I don’t know how you got here, but Mr. Limberton, I never asked you to save me. Please leave,” Georgiana responded in a low, steady voice.

She may have shown him her most pitiful side, but she had no intention of following him or carrying out any of the plans he had proposed.

Her lips, tightly pressed together, and the way she averted her eyes spoke volumes. For a moment, Lockwood’s gaze lingered on her stubborn posture. Then, with a small sigh, he removed the black fedora from his head and bent low.

“I apologize for what happened earlier today.”

His head, usually held high even in front of the emperor, was now bowed deeply in front of her.