Chapter 10 - The Auction of a New Life
Ten years have passed since that night in Miami.
The Anastasia Sterling Foundation is now one of the most influential in the world.
We have helped thousands of women reclaim their lives.
I was invited back to Miami for a gala last month.
It wasn't the Prescott Foundation—that’s long gone.
It was an event for the city’s heritage.
I walked into the same ballroom where I had been auctioned.
It looked smaller than I remembered.
The lights weren't as bright.
The people weren't as intimidating.
I stood at the bar and ordered a glass of wine.
A man approached me,
his hair white,
his face familiar.
It was one of Harold's old partners.
The one who had bid five hundred dollars as a joke.
"Ms. Sterling,"
he said,
his voice tentative.
"It’s good to see you."
I smiled at him,
the kind of smile that doesn't reach the eyes.
"Is it?"
He looked down at his shoes.
"We...
we didn't know."
"We thought it was just a bit of fun."
"Fun for whom?"
I asked calmly.
He didn't have an answer.
I walked away,
leaving him in his regret.
I realized then that the ballroom was full of ghosts.
The ghost of the woman who stayed silent.
The ghost of the man who thought he was king.
And the ghost of the laughter that meant nothing.
I walked out onto the balcony and looked at the ocean.
The air was warm and salt-scented.
Owen was waiting for me at the car.
I looked back at the hotel one last time.
"Ready?"
he asked.
"Ready,"
I said.
As we drove away,
I thought about the girl who lived in a trailer in Georgia.
I thought about the woman who organizer Harold's wine cellar.
And I thought about the billionaire who was currently building a hospital.
Life is an auction,
in a way.
We are constantly bidding on who we want to be.
But the only bid that matters is the one we make on ourselves.
Harold bid twenty dollars.
Owen bid two million.
But I?
I bid everything.
May you like
And I won.
The end.
