It's the only way

It's not like you really have a choice. This is your best chance if you want to make any headway whatsoever. You might be able to sneak out with some plausible deniability, but then what? You're not gonna drop this - You are better than this!

You sit still, sticking with your smug facade for as long as you can. Anyone that might notice you're nervous and a bit out of place has their eyes fixed to the merchandise. A lot of unfamiliar faces surrounding you, so no risk of former clients bumping into you. This place is for the rich, not the usual kind of people that walk into your office every week.
Time passes at a snail's pace. Only when a tall dark-skinned woman walks up to the podium, do you finally perk up. She introduces herself simply as the host for the night, explaining there's much to look forward to, yadda yadda - These types always play through the same routine. She presents the various items on display, gasses everyone up to drop some money, some shitty expensive chair gets sold and they move on.

People are starting to get antsy once most of the furniture and accessories are worked through. Only the people remain on stage. You try to pay attention to their names and descriptors. It's morbid, really. They are treated like dolls, playthings; Their trauma, their lifestory? It's all just spice to make them exotic, unique and attractive to prospective customers. The presenter emphasises their natural purity - None of them have been treated with any serums yet, so none of them have the benefit of being out of their mind yet - They are lucid and have to live through every second of it.

Mindy's name or tale does not come up once. A dead end on that front. But you do pick up on a couple of names. Previous clients in some cases, but also former spouses of clients. In this line of work you cannot afford to dig into a case beyond your pay and work discipline. Well, here you have no chance but to confront yourself with the fact that this was no doubt **** in many cases, on exposed spouses that just weren't faithful enough for their partners, no matter the reason, no matter if right or wrong. You're a part of this. In a way you were before you came here, even if you had not realised it.

Eventually a man sits down next to you. You have no idea why he'd switch seats, but he seems insistent on approaching you, once the bidding starts and the hall gets noisy again. He's roughly your age, chiseled features, wealthy no doubt. Pale guy, but not looking too bad. Short black hair, pinstripe suit, a bit of stubble for sexy factor. He places his hand on your thigh, but clearly not as a gesture of immediate lust. He smiles with a familiarity you do not possess, leans in and whispers to you: "Just play along. They got their eyes on you. Make a scene and I cannot protect you from what might happen. I'm not your enemy here, you will have to trust me."