Chapter 17
“I’ll sign!” Lucille shouted. Then, she shoved the pen into Andre’s hand. “Dad, hurry up and sign it! Do you want to go to jail?”
Andre’s hand trembled, but in the end, he still signed his name.”
Alexander gave a slight nod, signaling the man behind him to collect the documents. Before leaving, he said, “Someone will pick up Ms. Watson at 7:00 pm later.”
At the doorway, he paused and glanced back. “Oh, and one more thing. You’d better dress up tonight. After all…” His gaze lingered on Lucille’s pale yet still beautiful face. “It’s the last value you have left.”
As night fell, a sleek black Mercedes slowly pulled up at the VIP entrance of Royal Auction House. After that, two female bodyguards helped Lucille out of the car.
She wore a white silk gown, elegant and smooth, and around her neck hung the last valuable possession from the Watson family—a diamond necklace worth over a million dollars.
But now, it felt more like a badge of shame.
“No. Let me go!” Lucille instinctively struggled, but she was forcibly dragged into the elevator.
The auction hall was magnificent, and about 20 masked buyers had already taken their seats. Lucille was escorted backstage, where a stone-faced maid fitted her with silver handcuffs. They were xquisitely crafted and embedded with tiny diamonds that sparkled under the lights.
“These were specially commissioned by Mr. Hawke,” the maid said coldly.
Lucille recognized them immediately, noticing that they were identical to the ones Vanessa
had worn years ago.
The auction began, and the first several items were all from the Watson family’s former collection, including paintings, antiques, and jewelry.
“And now, for the highlight of the evening,” the auctioneer announced, his voice booming through the speakers. “The Watson Group heiress, 25 years old, five feet six inches tall. She’s trained in piano and ballet…”
The doors burst open as two bodyguards grabbed Lucille by her arms. The curtain was pulled back, and blinding spotlights blazed down on her.
Then, she was pushed onto the auction platform while the buyers below murmured excitedly
among themselves.
She saw sleazy iniddle-aged tycoons, thuggish nouveau riche, and even some of the wealthy young men who had once pursued her. Now they all wore masks, looking like a pack of wolves waiting to devour their prey.
The auctioneer declared, “Starting bid is five million dollars, with minimum increments of 500 thousand dollars.”
“Six million!”
“Eight million!”
“12 million!”
The bids came fast and fierce. Lucille stared up at the second-floor private box, where a tall figure stood watching behind the one-way glass.
She knew who it was and screamed with all her might, “Alexander! Please. I know I was wrong.
11
Inside the box, Alexander swirled a glass of red wine, his eyes fixed on a painting hanging on the wall. It was done by Vanessa’s favorite artist.
His mind drifted to that rainy night three years ago. Vanessa had stood on a similar auction stage, looking just as shattered. Back then, he had turned and walked away.
“20 million!” a raspy voice suddenly called from the back.
The auctioneer scanned the room. “20 million, going once… going twice…”
Lucille’s screams were drowned out by the applause from the buyers. As she was dragged off the platform, she cast one final glance at the box on the second floor. The figure behind the glass had already stood up and left without a trace of hesitation.
The auction hammer fell with a resounding bang.
When Alexander walked out of the auction house, the rain had stopped. He pulled out his phone and looked at his wallpaper.
It was a photo of Vanessa in front of Merathea Bookstore. It had been taken by a private investigator last week, showing her teaching a little girl to read a picture book. Her smile was brighter than sunshine.
“Mr. Hawke, back to the office?” the driver asked respectfully as he opened the car door. Alexander shook his head. “No. Take me to the airport.”
Chapter Th
