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I was adopted by the Kowalski family at five, but after their biological daughter was born, I became their unpaid maid.
To fund their luxurious lifestyle, my adoptive parents forced me to sign a marriage contract with Blake Carlisle, a billionaire hockey star currently in a vegetative state.
When his aristocratic parents came over, I desperately suggested my sister marry him instead.
Freya, my adoptive mother, immediately threatened to expose a mysterious "truth" about my past, forcing me to submit.
But the meeting ended in disaster when my sister insulted Blake, and Freya accidentally mocked his coma to his mother's face.
The furious Carlisles voided the contract, but left a chilling message: they were now launching a full investigation into our family to uncover the "truth" Freya had mentioned.
I didn't understand what this hidden secret was, or why my adoptive father had reacted with such extreme terror to stop Freya from saying it out loud.
"I will get you to that wedding tomorrow, even if I have to tie you up and drag you there."
Freya cornered me with a deranged smile, vowing to sell me to another rich man. But this time, I wasn't going to wait to be sold; I was going to find out what they were hiding.
Sold To The Billionaire In A Coma Chapter 1
Chloe POV:
"God, Emma, you are so much better than Chloe. That bitch is as boring as a dead log," Lucas groaned, his voice thick with lust as the bedframe creaked rhythmically.
"Then show me how much you love me, Lucas! Since she's marrying that vegetative cripple anyway, you're all mine now!" Emma giggled, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
This was the vile, grotesque scene that greeted me as I pushed open the door to my small attic bedroom, exhausted after a long day of cleaning.
On my own bed, my fiancé, Lucas Hayes, was desperately entangled with my younger stepsister, Emma. The sheets were a mess, and the room was heavy with the undeniable scent of their betrayal.
"Lucas..." I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of shock and disgust.
They finally stopped. But there was no panic, no scrambling for covers. Lucas, the man who had promised to marry me just a month ago, casually turned his head. His chest heaved as he looked at me with a smirk, barely bothering to pull the blanket over his waist.
"Oh, Chloe. You're home early," Lucas drawled, his tone laced with cruel amusement. "Don't just stand there. You can watch if you want to learn something. But honestly, I don't think even watching can fix how boring you are in bed."
Emma leaned back against Lucas's chest, pulling the sheet up just enough to cover herself, though she made no effort to hide her smirk. She looked at me with pure, unadulterated disdain.
"Exactly," Emma chimed in, her voice dripping with arrogance. "Since you are going to marry someone else anyway, I might as well take Lucas off your hands. We wouldn't want your engagement to go to waste, would we?"
My mind went blank. "Marry someone else? What are you talking about?"
Emma feigned a dramatic gasp, her eyes wide with fake surprise. "Oh, you don't know? Mom and Dad didn't tell you? You are going to marry a vegetable!"
"A vegetable?" I repeated, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.
"Blake Carlisle," Lucas supplied, his eyes trailing over Emma's body. "The captain of the Chicago Blackhawks. The great hockey superstar who got his skull crushed on the ice last month. He is in a coma, Chloe. You are going to be a nursemaid for a brain-dead hockey player."
Anger, hot and blinding, finally shattered my paralysis. "Get out!" I screamed, lunging forward to grab the bedsheets. "Get out of my room, you disgusting pigs!"
Before I could reach them, a harsh grip clamped down on my arm, yanking me backward with such force I stumbled and fell to the floor.
"Chloe, stop your screaming this instant!"
The voice, sharp and imperious, belonged to my adoptive mother, Freya. She stood over me, her face twisted in a vicious scowl. Her hand, nails painted a blood-red, pointed accusingly at my face, interrupting my confrontation.
"Mom, she's ruining our mood," Emma whined from the bed, wrapping her arms around Lucas's neck.
Freya's gaze snapped to me, filled with venom. "You ungrateful little slut. How dare you interrupt them? You can't even keep a man satisfied, and now you are throwing a tantrum? You are a worthless orphan. You should be down on your knees thanking us that a vegetative cripple is even willing to take you!"
She grabbed my arm, dragging me out of the room. I obediently rose, forced to follow her to the living room. A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. Freya was smiling, a wide, predatory grin I'd never seen before. It was a terrifying mix of greed and ecstasy.
My adoptive father, Fred, shifted beside her on the sofa. His eyes, which usually held a permanent apology, refused to meet mine today. My heart sank.
Freya pulled a glossy, bound folder from her Hermès bag. She slapped it onto the glass coffee table. The sharp crack echoed in the silent room.
"The most wonderful news," she announced. "You are getting married."
I already knew the answer, but my breath caught.
As if reading my mind, Freya leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Carlisle family. The hockey dynasty from Chicago. Their son, the great Blake Carlisle!"
Blake Carlisle.
The name hit me like a physical blow. The captain of the Chicago Blackhawks. The league's superstar. The man who looked like a god on television.
But another memory surfaced, a news headline that had shaken the sports world a month ago. A brutal collision on the ice. A severe head injury. He was still in a coma.
My voice trembled as I looked at Freya. "He's... he's in the hospital. He's in a vegetative state!"
Freya's smile tightened for a fraction of a second before morphing into a cruel sneer. "So what if he is? His family has money. They need a wedding to bring good luck, and to improve his public image after all those scandals."
She pointed a red-tipped finger at the folder. "And you, Chloe, are the lucky girl they've chosen. This isn't a request. It's a notification."
"No," I shook my head, taking a step back. "I can't marry someone who isn't even conscious. That's insane."
Freya's face turned to ice. She stood, towering over me. "Insane? You eat our food, you live under our roof. It's time you paid us back."
I cast a desperate glance at Fred, pleading with my eyes for him to say something, anything.
He opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing, but all that came out was a soft, defeated sigh before he looked away again.
Freya stepped closer, poking my shoulder with a sharp nail. "The Carlisles are paying us a fortune. Enough for Emma to get that Maserati she wants, and for us to finally move into that house in Lincoln Park."
Of course. For Emma. My sacrifices always ended up benefiting my spoiled younger sister.
I bit down on my lip, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. It was a subconscious habit, a response to helplessness and rage I'd had since childhood.
"Why me?" I finally managed to ask. "Emma is prettier, more social. She's the one who's always dreamed of marrying rich."
Freya let out a short, ugly laugh. "Emma? Why would I let my precious daughter be a widow-in-waiting? This kind of opportunity, of course, is reserved for you, the adopted daughter."
Her words were a knife, slicing me open and exposing my status as the outsider, the tool.
A wave of dizziness washed over me. I grabbed the back of the sofa to keep from falling.
"I won't do it," I said, my voice barely a whisper, but it was the last bit of defiance I had.
Freya's patience snapped. She grabbed the contract and shoved it in my face. "You have no choice. The Carlisles are coming tomorrow to discuss the wedding details."
Tomorrow? So soon? My mind was a buzzing hive of panic.
She savored the sight of my pale, horrified face and smiled. "You'd better be on your best behavior. Or you know the consequences."
She turned and sat back down on the sofa, as if she hadn't just threatened me.
I wiped the blood from my lip, a dangerous thought taking root in my mind. The Carlisles were coming tomorrow. If Freya and Emma wanted to play dirty, maybe it was time I learned their game. I just needed one perfect opportunity to tear their greedy masks off.
Sold To The Billionaire In A Coma Chapter 2
Chloe POV:
I didn't listen to another word. I turned and walked numbly up the stairs, each step feeling like I was wading through thick mud.
"Don't forget to take down those cheap posters in your room!" Freya's voice called after me. "Don't give the Carlisles a bad impression tomorrow!"
I didn't look back. I just hurried my steps, escaping back to my small room in the attic.
Lucas and Emma were gone, but the sickly sweet smell of her perfume and the stench of their sex still hung heavy in the air. The crumpled, stained bedsheets mocked me.
A wave of nausea hit me. I rushed to the bed, ripped the dirty sheets off the mattress, and shoved them into a trash bag. I wouldn't let their filth contaminate my space for another second.
I shut the door, my back sliding down the wooden panel until I was sitting on the floor. I buried my face in my knees, and the sobs I had been holding back finally broke free.
My room was tiny, with a single skylight and cluttered with things this family no longer wanted. It was a world away from my sister Emma's room, which was decorated like a princess's castle.
A few band posters from college were taped to the wall. They were one of the few splashes of color in my life, and now Freya had deemed them "cheap."
I looked around the space I had occupied for more than a decade. It felt more like a storage closet than a bedroom.
My mind drifted back. I was five when the Kowalskis adopted me from the orphanage.
Freya had been kind, at first. Until a year later, when she miraculously gave birth to Emma.
Everything changed after that. Emma became the center of their universe. I became her shadow, a built-in babysitter and maid.
All the pretty dresses, the expensive toys, the hugs and praise, they were all for Emma.
I got her hand-me-downs and a never-ending list of chores.
I remembered one time I had a high fever and couldn't make Emma's breakfast on time. Freya had pointed a finger in my face and called me a "useless freeloader."
Fred had just stood there. He handed me a fever reducer and walked away in silence. His cowardice was as sharp a blade as Freya's cruelty.
I used to think if I worked hard enough, if I was obedient enough, I could earn a sliver of their affection.
I got a scholarship to college so I wouldn't cost them a dime. I did all the housework, keeping the house spotless.
They took it all for granted. They even demanded I give them the money I earned from my part-time job for the "family fund."
That money turned into the newest iPhone in Emma's hand.
They even destroyed my love life. Lucas was my college classmate. We were in love, engaged. It was the happiest time of my life.
But after he visited my home a few times, things changed. Emma would flirt with him openly. Freya would constantly hint at how "plain" and "boring" I was in front of him.
And now, I had witnessed firsthand how completely they had ruined me. They had stolen my fiancé and were now trying to sell my freedom, my very life, to a stranger in a coma, just so they could live a more luxurious life.
I wanted to scream, to break things, to completely sever ties with these monsters. But the crushing reality of my powerlessness choked me. I had no money, no degree yet, and absolutely no one to rely on. The suffocating feeling of wanting to escape but being trapped in this cage was a physical ache in my chest.
I wiped my tears. A chill settled deep in my bones. I had no more illusions about this family, about this thing they called love. This would be the absolute last time I shed a tear for them.
I stood up and walked to my desk, opening my old laptop.
The screen's glow illuminated my pale, determined face. I started searching for "how to legally sever adoption ties" and "Blake Carlisle hockey accident hidden details."
The results brought a fresh wave of despair. As an adult, I couldn't legally break the tie, and I might still have a legal obligation to support them in the future. As for Blake, his medical records and the true nature of his brutal on-ice collision were sealed tight by his billionaire family's PR team.
More importantly, I was broke. Freya had siphoned away all my savings.
Without money, without support, I couldn't even afford to rent the cheapest basement apartment in this city.
The idea of running away seemed pathetic in the face of reality.
The sky outside the window darkened, the clouds heavy and oppressive, just like my future.
I remembered my days at the orphanage. Life was hard, but at least no one looked at me like I was a piece of property for sale.
My phone vibrated. It was a message from Emma. A picture of her and Lucas lying naked in my bed, his hand resting intimately on her bare thigh. The caption read: "Some people just don't know how to enjoy life. Have fun wiping your vegetable husband's ass tomorrow!"
That picture was the final straw. It shattered every last bit of my weakness. I slammed the phone shut, my eyes blazing with a new, hateful resolve.
I wouldn't let them sell me like livestock. Tomorrow, when the Carlisles arrived, I would seize the narrative. Freya thought she had me cornered, but she had no idea what a girl with nothing left to lose was capable of.
Sold To The Billionaire In A Coma Chapter 3
Chloe POV:
I didn't sleep at all. The sky outside my small window shifted from inky black to a dull, bruised gray. My heart felt just as cold and numb.
In the morning, Freya didn't even bother to knock. She pushed the door open and frowned when she saw me still in my pajamas.
She threw an expensive-looking white dress onto my bed. "Get changed. The Carlisles will be here in an hour."
I stared at the dress. It was beautiful, but to me, it looked like a sacrificial robe.
"I'll say it again. I'm not getting married," I said, my voice hoarse from lack of sleep.
Freya crossed her arms, a cold smile on her lips. "It's not up to you. The contract is signed. Your father and I signed it for you."
Blood rushed to my head. "You had no right!"
"We are your legal guardians. We have every right," Freya said, her voice dripping with self-righteousness. "We raised you. Now it's time for you to repay our kindness."
Her words were a dull knife, twisting in a wound that was already festering.
I stopped arguing. I knew it was pointless. I silently picked up the dress.
My compliance seemed to please her. Her tone softened slightly. "That's a good girl. Remember, smile, don't talk much, and act like you're excited about this marriage."
I changed into the dress and stood before the mirror. The girl staring back at me had a pale face and empty eyes. The beautiful dress looked like a cruel joke on her.
When I went downstairs, Fred was pacing anxiously in the living room. He saw me, his lips moved as if to say something, but he remained silent.
Freya was directing a cleaning crew, making sure every last speck of dust was gone. The room was immaculate, a perfect picture of fake sophistication.
The doorbell rang, sharp and punctual, like a death knell.
Freya's face immediately transformed. Her back hunched slightly, and a sickeningly sweet, overly eager smile plastered itself on her face as she practically sprinted to open the door. "Oh, Mrs. Carlisle, Mr. Carlisle, welcome, welcome! Please, come in! It is such an absolute honor to have you in our humble home!"
I stood nervously at the bottom of the stairs, my palms slick with cold sweat. I couldn't bring myself to look up.
I heard an elegant, slightly detached female voice. "Mrs. Kowalski, good morning." That must be Eleanor Carlisle, the formidable matriarch of the Carlisle empire, born into old money and known for her ruthless perfectionism.
Then a calm, steady male voice. "Thank you for having us." Montgomery Carlisle, the iron-fisted CEO of the Carlisle Group, a man who built his fortune crushing his competitors.
Freya ushered them into the living room, bowing so low she almost scraped the floor, while Fred hurriedly pulled out chairs for them like an obedient servant. I was forced to look up.
Eleanor Carlisle was exactly as I'd imagined. She wore a perfectly tailored Chanel suit and a sapphire necklace, her icy blue eyes sharp and assessing.
Montgomery Carlisle was more understated in a custom suit, but he carried an air of authority that was impossible to ignore.
Their eyes swept over me. Eleanor's gaze lingered, and I felt like a piece of livestock being appraised at auction. None of them acknowledged me as a human being, I was simply a necessary prop for their transaction.
Freya pulled me forward. "This is my daughter, Chloe. She's been so looking forward to this marriage."
I managed a stiff twitch of my lips, but no sound came out.
Eleanor ignored Freya's fawning. She got straight to the point. "Mrs. Kowalski, we are here to finalize some details and inform you of our decision."
Her directness cooled Freya's enthusiasm a few degrees.
Montgomery spoke, his tone gentle, but his words hit me like a lightning bolt. "Given Blake's condition, we want the wedding to happen as soon as possible. Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" The word escaped my lips before I could stop it. Freya pinched me hard from behind.
Eleanor's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. She was clearly displeased with my outburst.
Freya quickly tried to smooth things over. "Of course, of course, we completely agree. Chloe is just so excited, aren't you, darling?"
The room started to spin. Tomorrow? I was going to be married to a man in a hospital bed? A married widow?
I couldn't breathe. The world was blurring at the edges.
I could only hear Eleanor's cool voice continuing on, discussing the wedding ceremony, the timing of the press release, and the "contractual obligations" I would have to fulfill, completely ignoring my obvious distress.
They were treating my life like a corporate merger. As I watched Freya and Fred nodding vigorously like lapdogs, the panic in my chest began to harden into a cold, sharp anger. If they treated me like a silent prop, I would show them exactly how loud I could be.