They sold you

Sherry hoped that her father was still alive and safe. A number of possibilities could be pulled up on what might have happened that the man had to leave his wife and daughter alone. One of them, the worst that her mother had to hear the most, was that her father had run away with another woman.

Sherry didn’t believe it, though. Not with the stories she had heard from her mother about how they had spent their few years together. Another possibility that had come up was that he had been taken away by a rival mafia group. Because her father was a manager at one of the largest technological companies in the city and thinking about it now, she realized it was the Cross technology company.

Though not many outsiders dared to mess with the Cross empire’s territory, it didn’t stop the lesser gangs residing in the shadows from taking people for their own personal use, even killing them.

"You’re still waiting for his return," Dallion stated. Sherry didn’t answer him and instead stayed quiet.

She didn’t know if she was waiting for her father, but she had never declared him dead. With so many possibilities, she had kept her options open.

"What happened to your mother? I read that you lived with your foster uncle and aunt. What happened?" he asked her further questions.

"She passed away seven years ago. Since I have no other family, my nanny and butler that worked for us decided to take me in."

"Doesn't seem like it turned out great," Dallion leaned back in his seat, observing her keenly.

"You say that because I ended up being sold?" Sherry asked.

"Hmm," he hummed in agreement. "What kind of people who took charge of your inheritance even though the bank claimed most of your family assets you still had enough under your name sell their own for some measly cash? Utterly disgusting creatures." Sherry’s eyebrows furrowed, and she looked at him curiously.

"Did you go check with them?" she leaned forward, waiting for him to reply. It was something that had been lingering in her mind since she was sold off and had been wanting to know if it was truly them who had put her in this current situation.

"What will you do knowing the answer, Sherryl? Haven’t you heard? Ignorance is bliss. That’s why most people are idiots yet happy," Dallion’s words were hard to decipher. Was he insulting them or somewhat envious of their simple lives? Not that Dallion was ever jealous of such trivial matters. The man considered himself above all others, and in many ways, he was.

"Were they the ones who sold me?" she pressed.

Seconds seemed to pass as Dallion took his sweet time to answer her. "What do you think?" he asked her instead of giving the answer she was waiting for.

"They did..."

"They did," he confirmed, watching her expression as her brows knitted tighter, "I should say though, they sold you for cheap. I’m not sure if they were swindled by the broker or if they were just that desperate. I mean, seven thousand dollars? And here I am, paying five hundred thousand dollars."

"Three hundred thousand, Dallion," Sherry corrected, earning a smirk from him. Who knew this man could haggle over millions like it was pocket change? He certainly knew how to save well, Sherry thought, while holding an intense stare with the mafia boss.

Breaking the eye contact, she turned to look outside the window, watching the cityscape rush by, the dim streetlights casting shadows that mirrored the state of her heart. After what Dallion said, she felt her chest tighten. To think about her own foster relatives had sold her for money. For Dallion, the amount was mere pennies, but to someone from the lower society like her foster family, it was enough to survive.

But how could they do it? The people she was supposed to rely on had betrayed her. Who was she supposed to trust now? If her own trusted people couldn’t protect her, how could she ever believe in a stranger? Was her worth really only that much? Her eyes moistened, but she blinked rapidly to stop the tears from falling. She wouldn’t give Dallion the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

At the same time, she noticed Dallion raising his hand towards her. Glancing over, she saw him holding out a handkerchief. "You can cry if you want. I wouldn’t mind," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. This cruel man was clearly enjoying her misfortune. Her lips pressed into a thin line. He was getting a kick out of it.

"I’m fine, Dallion."

"If you say so. We need to find you a pair of shoes," he said, glancing at her bare feet, which she quickly tried to hide from his sight. "I don’t want to have to take you to the doctor if you step on something."

Thinking about it, Sherry glanced down at her feet. How many times had she stepped on sharp debris in the past few days?

"Give me your leg."

"Huh?"

"Are you deaf, little mouse? Raise your leg. I want to take a look," he said, his voice sharp with impatience. Dallion wasn’t used to being questioned, especially not by her. When he reached for her foot, she awkwardly placed it on his lap. Rolling his eyes, he lifted it to examine the sole. Sherry flushed with embarrassment, adjusting her dress to make sure it covered her legs properly.

She flinched, pulling her foot back when his thumb brushed the back of her heel. But Dallion’s grip on her ankle tightened, preventing her from moving. He pressed down on a small wound that had nearly healed.

Sherry’s face heated as she looked away, trying to focus on the city lights outside the car window, hoping it would distract her from the awkward sensation of his touch.

"Stepped on something again, little mouse?" he asked, his tone teasing as he ran his fingers over the old scars. "It doesn’t look like this is your first time getting hurt in the past few weeks."

Sherry looked at him, momentarily stunned by how quickly he’d pieced it together. The man was far too observant, his brash words never filtered. She was stuck with an infuriating, outrageous mafia kingpin.