Page 25 of The Vows He Buried
For a split second, the world went silent. The air was sucked from my lungs. I was frozen in the brilliant, invasive beam of light, my face exposed, my privacy stripped bare. A wave of hot, suffocating fury washed over me.
They had turned me into a commodity. A prize to be won.
My eyes darted to Evelyn. She was watching me, a small, triumphant smirk on her face. This was her doing. A petty, vicious power play. Unable to control me directly, she had conspired with the gala organizers to put me on the auction block, to reduce me to an object to be bid upon by powerful men, a public reminder that in her world, everyone and everything had a price.
The crowd erupted in a cacophony of excited whispers and applause. I was trapped, pinned like a butterfly to a board. If I protested, I would look uncharitable, a poor sport. If I went along with it, I would be submitting to their game, allowing myself to be sold to the highest bidder.
“Let’s start the bidding at ten thousand dollars for an unforgettable evening with the incredible Ms. Blake!” the auctioneer shouted. “Do I hear ten thousand?”
Hands shot up around the room. It was a game to them, a chance to be associated with the drama, with my name.
“Twenty thousand!” someone yelled.
“Thirty!”
The numbers climbed with dizzying speed. I stood still, my face a mask of cold, serene neutrality, but inside, a storm was raging.My hands were clenched into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms.
Then, a new voice cut through the noise, calm and authoritative. “One hundred thousand dollars.”
Every head turned. Maddox stood near the back of the room. He hadn't raised a paddle. He had simply spoken the number, his voice a clear, commanding statement. His face was a grim, determined mask. This was not a bid; it was an attempt at a knockout blow, a public declaration meant to end the auction immediately. It was a desperate, possessive act.She is mine. I will buy her back.
The room fell silent, the other bidders immediately retreating. No one would bid against Maddox Vale for his own… wife.
The auctioneer’s smile was ecstatic. “One hundred thousand dollars from Mr. Maddox Vale! A powerful, generous bid! Do I hear one hundred and ten? Going once…”
Another voice, cool and utterly unbothered, sliced through the silence.
“Two hundred thousand.”
The voice came from a table near the front. Lucian Thorne sat there, looking almost bored. He hadn’t raised his hand. He had simply met the auctioneer’s gaze and spoken the words, his voice a low, smooth challenge. He didn't look at Maddox. He didn't look at the stage. He looked directly at me.
A collective gasp went through the ballroom. The air crackled with a tension so thick it was almost visible. This was no longer a charity auction. This was a duel.
Maddox’s face darkened, his jaw tightening. He had been publicly challenged by the one man in the room whose power rivaled, and perhaps surpassed, his own.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand,” Maddox snarled, his voice tight with rage.
Lucian didn’t even wait for the auctioneer. He gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod. “Five hundred thousand.”
The number was obscene. A wave of shock and awe rippled through the crowd. People were standing up, craning their necks to see the two titans at war. Lucian’s bid was not just a number; it was a statement of contempt. It was a dismissal of Maddox’s wealth, an implication that whatever Maddox could bid, Lucian could double without a second thought. He was playing a different game, a game of psychological warfare, and Maddox had walked right into his trap.
Maddox was pale, his knuckles white where he gripped the back of a chair. He was being humiliated, his desperate attempt to reclaim me turned into a public spectacle of his own inadequacy in the face of a greater power.
“One million dollars,” Maddox bit out, the words strained, desperate.
Lucian leaned back in his chair, a faint, predatory smile playing on his lips. He looked at me, a silent question in his storm-gray eyes.Shall we continue?
The auctioneer was practically vibrating with excitement. “One million dollars! We have one million dollars! An incredible, historic bid from Mr. Vale! Going once… going twice…”
He raised his gavel.
“Stop.”
The word was not loud, but it cut through the room with the sharp, clear authority of a breaking glass.
I spoke it.
I stood up from my table, the midnight-blue silk of my gown whispering around me. Every eye in the room, including Maddox’s and Lucian’s, swiveled to me. The spotlight found me again, but this time, I was not its victim. I was its commander.
