Chapter 2
Painful memories kept replaying sharply inside my head.
Outside the pawnshop, Beckett had stood beside me and watched me hand over the jewellery box.
“Chloe, this was your grandmother’s keepsake. Maybe we should keep it.”
Hot tears streamed down my cheeks.
Debtcollection agencies had been blowing up our phones day and night.
Back then he had told me the collapse of his business plus worsening anxiety attacks had broken him.
And I had believed every word.
At that time, it truly had felt as if we had no other choice.
He pulled me closer and swore a solemn vow with his arms around my shoulders.
“When I get back on my feet, I will buy this exact jewellery set back for you. I swear it.”
A whole year slipped by.
I was twentynine years old now, working multiple lowwage parttime jobs, straining every nerve to earn money and keep us going.
That sacred promise had never been fulfilled.
The auctioneer’s voice jolted me harshly back to reality inside the auction hall.
“Starting bid for this gemset jewellery: five million US dollars..”
Bidding paddles shot up one after another across the room, and the bidding quickly turned fierce.
In less than two minutes, the price rocketed to nine point two million dollars.
Most bidders lowered their paddles, shaking their heads to concede the lot. The whole hall fell quiet.
“Nine point two million, going once.”
Heavy silence hung over the auction house.
“Nine point two million, going twice.”
Right before the auctioneer could call for the third and final time, a bidding paddle was raised high in the VIP section.
A familiar male voice carried clearly through the venue speakers to every corner of the room:
“Ten million US dollars.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Then a clear, deep voice boomed down from the topfloor private VIP box, cutting through the surrounding noise:
“Auctioneer, I place an unlimited bid on this lot. Whatever counteroffer is made, my bid will automatically exceed it.”
Gasps swept across the entire hall. Every head turned upward toward the luxurious private box.
It was Kael Rainer.
Beckett’s whole body went rigid.
He glared furiously up toward the box, yet he knew there was no point competing against an unlimited bid.
He set down his paddle; there was no way for him to keep fighting for the item.
Slight awe made the auctioneer’s voice tremble:
“The unlimited bid is confirmed. This lot goes to Mr. Kael Rainer!”
The gavel crashed down, and thunderous applause echoed through every corner of the venue.
Beckett stood up. A woman immediately slipped her arm firmly through his.
It was Jessa, the exgirlfriend I had seen on his socialmedia posts before.
Livefeed cameras locked onto the pair, and their images were projected onto every giant overhead screen.
I could no longer fool myself that it was merely someone who looked similar.
That was my husband. He was supposed to be sitting in his therapist’s office tonight.
Reporters swarmed forward, shoving microphones toward him.
“Mr. Voss, you have narrowly lost this lot. Did you intend to buy this jewellery for someone special?”
Beckett looked tenderly down at Jessa beside him. “I meant it for the woman I love most.”
Jessa smiled brightly and coyly for the cameras, pink flushing across her cheeks.
“He was bidding because I fell in love with this jewellery the moment I saw it. Beckett and I were each other’s first love.”
Whispers spread through the audience.
Anyone who followed highsociety news knew that Beckett and I had once had a sensational, headlinemaking wedding.
Yet as I listened, many wealthy onlookers in attendance showed no genuine surprise at what they were witnessing.
They had known all along about his affair. I alone had been kept completely in the dark.
Brutal truth crashed over me in wave after wave.
The corporate collapse, recurring anxiety and depressive episodes, the mountain of unpaid debts — it had all been a carefully constructed lie.