1. The Auction

Clara

My heart is in my throat as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

My fingers move to the pearls around my neck subconsciously. I rub the pearls with the tips of my fingers, deep in thought. This nervousness of mine doesn’t make sense because I’ve been looking forward to this day for as long as I can remember. Ever since I was a little girl, to be exact.

Father always told me that it was the greatest honor and a privilege to be auctioned into a good family, despite how it sounds. He always said that an auction was different from a sale in a sense that only valuable things are auctioned. I’m the thing of value here and not the other way around. All the families in New York will gather and bid for me. Only the family who wishes to pay the highest amount of money will end up having me.

And it isn’t ‘buying’, not in that sense. I’ll have to be married to someone influential in the family and essentially be a part of them. It’ll also promote associations between my family and theirs, so it’s a win-win situation.

Yet despite all this, I’m still nervous. I mean, this is the day when life as I know it comes to an abrupt end. I won’t be living at home anymore, with my parents and brothers. I’ll have to live with a family I hardly know and then be married to someone I also don’t know well.

That isn’t entirely true. We are well acquainted with all the seven families. I’ve known some of them since I was a child. The issue is that I have no idea who will bid the highest and where I’ll be accepted. It also isn’t easy to predict who in the family I might be married to. There are many relatives in their families that they could marry me off to, both old and young. The decision isn’t mine. It’s theirs.

I guess that’s the part about all of this that bothers me. Not having a choice isn’t a easy pill to swallow. When I was at school, all the girls were allowed to have boyfriends and ultimately, the decision about what to do with their lives was theirs. I couldn’t have a boyfriend because I have to be a virgin. That’s one of the requirements. And I also can’t choose who I marry.

But that’s the life I was born into and there isn’t much that I can do about it. I can only hope that I’ll be married into one of the ‘good’ families, like the Gianecchini family, or even the Marchettis. They’ve always been kind to me and they don’t have that violent history that is present in all our families. They’re the relatively nice ones.

My father enters the small room that’s been reserved just for me. I’m all ready for the event. All I’m waiting for is to be called. The event has already started and since it goes according to last names, I’m last.

“How’s my princess doing?” he asks as he closes the door behind him.

I offer him a smile. “I’m alright.”

“That doesn’t sound encouraging,” he says as he sits beside me.

“I’m a little nervous,” I admit.

“Perfectly normal,” he answers. “The Di Maggio girl fainted before she got on stage. Humiliated her family, of course, but she’s been sold off to the Gianecchinis. An honor indeed.”

My heart sinks a little at that. If they bought one, they won’t buy another. “Do you know if the Marchettis already had their pick?”

“Yes, they took Viola. She looked lovely tonight. I would have taken her for Marco but I was sorely outbid.”

“I see,” I say, my tongue getting heavier in my mouth.

“Don’t worry, Clara, there’ll be a good offer for you. I believe that. I might have heard something about that, actually. There’s a family that wants you. They have a son around your age who’ll need to be married by the end of the year.”

I feel only a little relieved at that. “Who?”

“Can’t ruin the surprise,” he says, pinching my cheek before pushing himself off the table. “Besides, anything could happen out there. There’ll go crazy when they see how beautiful you look.”

I smile after him. He leaves me alone once again and I have to confess that I’m even more nervous about this. Who’s the family? All of them have sons around my age. It’s hard to tell who it could be. I drain the glass of water in front of me and then go back to staring at my own reflection.

I’ve done my hair and makeup alone. It’s never been a problem for me. I was taught this as a young girl. Looking presentable and pretty is essential in our world. Tonight, I’m expected to look better than ever and I’ve done my part. I’m proud of how I look, with my auburn hair in a glamorous updo and the dress that is only a few shades darker than my hair.

My red hair never fails to remind me of all the times I was bullied because of it, simply because I’m the only redhead in my family. Everyone else is dark-haired and blue-eyed whereas I’m different. Even my eyes are hazel and not blue.

I’m just…different from all of them.

My father mentioned that one of his grandparents was a redhead. I can’t remember from which side. This explains my hair. Everyone from my mother’s side of the family is dark-haired, so it definitely didn’t come from her.

Speaking of which, I haven’t seen her yet. I know she’s here because I saw her get ready for the event before I left home. She didn’t wish me luck. She didn’t even look at me as I said goodbye to her. It’s how it’s always been between us. She’s always been cold to me, ever since I was a little girl. She has always preferred my brothers over me. To her, I’ve always been invisible.

I try not to feel sad about this because I don’t want to ruin my makeup by crying. The event is usually an hour long and so I know that my time is near. It’s been forty minutes. I’m the last one. There were only five of us this time around.

I’ll be fetched by one of the event managers when the time comes, so I don’t have to worry about being late. I just have to focus on being pretty.

I hear the door behind me click open once again. I turn around thinking that it’s the manager. My smile falls when I make eye contact with my mother.

She closes the door behind her softly, not taking her eyes off my face. She’s dressed in a light green gown that really brings out the ocean in her eyes. Her hair is as black as a raven’s wings. She moves closer to me with her gloved hands clasped together. I stand instinctively and place two kisses on her cheek.

“Mother,” I begin, “thank you for coming.”

“How couldn’t I come?” she asks softly, tilting her head as she looks at me. I feel the walls I’ve built around my heart begin to crack a little. She’s looking at me with a soft gaze. For the first time ever, I feel like she’s looking at me with love.

She extends her hands and I take them. She squeezes my hands. I feel comforted. She studies my face and says, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I say, meaning it.

“I see you did the best you could,” she states before nodding. “That’s good. I’ve taught you well, at least. That way you won’t embarrass any of us.”

And just like that, the walls build themselves again. I stare at her face and in her eyes, I see my own hatred reflected back at me. I shouldn’t have believed so easily. I should have kept my guard up.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy when today is the day I finally get rid of you?” she asks sweetly. Her expression doesn’t change. “I’ve been waiting for this day for as long as I can remember. You don’t know just how long.”

I shake my head and drop her hands. “How can you say that to me?”

“It’s the truth,” she simply replies.

My eyes fill with tears. I refuse to let them spill. “I never understood this hatred you have toward me. I’m your fucking daughter, not a stranger you picked up from the street. And even so, the way you’ve always treated me is disgusting. I wouldn’t treat a stranger the way you’ve treated me. I don’t think anyone with a heart would.”

“Perhaps some day you’ll understand what it’s like to look at a daughter and see nothing of you in her,” she says venomously. “You are his daughter through and through. We have never had anything in common.”

“Maybe that’s because you pushed me away whereas he pulled me in.”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

I groan and walk past her. I’ll wait for the manager out on the hallway. I need to be the best version of myself today. I can’t look sad.

“This is where your life begins, Clara,” she says. I stop in my tracks and look at her over my shoulder. “Everything will become clearer to you after this. Bear this in mind: there are no secrets that time doesn’t reveal.”

I furrow my brows. “I don’t understand.”

The door behind me opens and the manager walks in. She smiles at us both before saying, “It’s time to go, Miss Morelli.”

I follow her out the door, heart racing. I look back at my mother as the manager closes the door. A small smile covers her lips and it’s the last thing I see before the door closes.

What did she mean by that?

What secrets?