Chapter 3

The auctioneer and the crowd stared at my mother as if she had lost her mind. Matthew Scott let out a loud, barking laugh.

"A bid? With what? The lint in your pockets?"

My mother ignored him. She walked toward the stage, her steps determined.

I watched her, my own hands clenched so tight my knuckles were white.

She looked so poor, so helpless. Her decision to bid seemed like a final, desperate act of a woman with nothing left to lose.

But I knew my mother. Underneath the years of hardship was the steel of a Cullen.

The auctioneer began the countdown for the "private weekend."

"One hundred thousand going once! One hundred thousand going twice!"

Crude comments flew from the bidders.

"I'll give her a weekend she'll never forget!"

"The auctioneer's even got photos, boys! Look at this one, by the pool!" He held up a large photo, a private family picture stolen from our home.

The humiliation was overwhelming. The bidding was a frenzy.

"One hundred fifty thousand!" Matthew' s father shouted from the crowd, a sickening grin on his face.

"Winner-take-all," my mother' s voice cut through the noise. It was a term used in high-stakes Cullen auctions, a bid that ends all other bidding.

Matthew scoffed. "You don't have the money, Maria. If you can't pay, you'll take your daughter's place. Is that what you want?"

My mother didn't flinch. "Verify my credit."

She reached into her worn purse and pulled out a single, tarnished silver dollar. She placed it on the authenticator's table.

Wendy Fuller shrieked with laughter. "A dollar? Is that a joke? She' s bidding with a filthy old coin!"

The on-site appraiser, a man employed by the venue-my venue-picked up the coin. His eyes widened. He ran it under a scanner. A green light flashed on his screen.

He turned to the auctioneer, his voice shaking. "It's... it's a Cullen Saddle-Maker's Coin. It's authentic."

A hush fell over the crowd. Only a handful of people in that room knew what it meant. The coin was a legendary marker, given only to direct Cullen heirs. It granted the holder limitless credit against the family's assets.

I recognized it immediately. It was my grandmother's. My mother was using a piece of her own history, a treasure she had kept hidden for decades, to save her child. The sacrifice was immense.

The auctioneer' s jaw dropped. "The bid... the bid is accepted. The first lot is sold to Maria Johns."

Matthew and the Fullers stared, their faces a mask of disbelief.