I intended to buy my husband's favorite Renaissance Venetian glass stallion as an anniversary present.

But halfway through the auction, a mysterious bidder intervened, placing unlimited bidding, and snatched the porcelain steed right from under me.

As I turned to leave, I received an alert indicating that my husband's secondary credit card had been used at the auction house—the purchase was for the very same Renaissance Venetian glass stallion.

Panic set in and I immediately called the bank to freeze the card.

At the collection counter, a breathtakingly beautiful woman with a graceful figure hurried away, red-faced, amid the crowd's derision.

Half a month later, Oliver Galley and I went on vacation abroad. As soon as we got off the plane, I was suddenly knocked out.

When I came to, I found myself trapped in an iron cage.

The host at the event said in broken English, "We're auctioning this woman today—the highest bidder wins her!"

And there was Oliver in the audience, his expression cold and unforgiving.

"Amy Mabre, you enjoy outshining others who placed unlimited bidding, don't you? Well, today you'll get your chance!"

***

I gazed in horror at the thick crowd below, my skin prickling with fear.

Each person held my body scan reports, discussing them loudly.

"Check out this woman—she's in excellent condition. Every part of her is healthy. You can either buy her as a whole to bring home or divide her parts for family patients. She's first-rate."

"Who would have guessed Mr. Galley from America would be so generous? Offering such a remarkable woman for auction—don't miss this unique opportunity."

"Rumor has it that the one on stage is Mr. Galley's wife. Now that he has a new lover, why hold on to the old one?"

Following the direction of their significant glances, I spotted Oliver in the crowd, and a chill ran through me.

My rope-bound body slammed against the iron bars with a loud thud as my nails pierced my skin, causing blood to seep through my fingers.

Just yesterday, we had joyfully planned our trip together.

Now, Jessica Dabel—the casual friend he had said was assisting with the auction for the Renaissance Venetian glass stallion—rested comfortably in his embrace, her face lit with a triumphant grin.

"Oliver, why are you doing this to me?"

My voice wavered with despair, tears choking my words.

Oliver reclined leisurely in his chair, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "My wife is so sophisticated—naturally, I can't keep her all to myself. Sharing is caring, right?"

The room exploded with enthusiastic cheers as the crowd urged the host to begin right away.

Tycoons from various countries had gathered, their black bidding paddles held aloft, frantically debating whether to place bids on my heart or kidney.

Oliver leaned in to kiss Jessica before stepping onto the auction stage. He kicked the iron cage containing me, instantly splitting the corner of my lip. A metallic taste filled my mouth.

"Amy, as the auction's sponsor, I'll grant you a unique privilege—allowing you to bid on yourself. Relish the thrill of being in the spotlight and experience the humiliation Jessica felt at the last auction!"

His polished, clear eyes brimmed with mocking malice, and the underlying murderous intent made it clear—he had no plans of letting me leave the auction hall alive.

"You can always keep bidding on yourself!"

Upon hearing those words, the entire crowd erupted in laughter, turning their attention toward us.

"What unlimited bidding can she possibly place? Didn't Mr. Galley transfer all the money from your joint accounts into his own when he arrived here? Unless Mr. Galley decides to pay, Mrs. Galley doesn't have a single cent left."

Oliver pretended to have a sudden realization.

"Oh no, how could I forget? Only one person can register for the same fund account. What a shame, my dear wife. I still have to buy a necklace for Jessica today—so I can't assist you."

I looked at him in shock, unable to believe these words were coming from the husband I had cherished for eight years.

"You tricked me into traveling abroad, drugged and abducted me, and even set up this black-market auction to sell me off?

"Why, Oliver? Just because I froze the secondary card's payment function when Jessica placed unlimited bidding?"

Oliver gazed at me coldly, relishing my distress.

"Of course. Do you know how helpless Jessica felt that day? She was laughed at by so many people. You can endure it too, can't you?"

Without giving me another opportunity to question him, he turned and walked off the stage.

He icily issued a single command.

"Handcuff and shackle Ms. Mabre, and have her sit among the auction audience. Watching her own descent into the abyss, powerless to stop it—that's the most gratifying form of retribution!"

Standing below the stage, Jessica gave me a sly wink and a wicked grin.

"Ms. Mabre, I won't be competing with you today!"

The auction hall erupted with harsh laughter and jeers.

Someone even whistled and yelled, "Mr. Galley, how can you let your lovely wife be driven to her end? Hahaha..."

Oliver's eyebrows lifted slightly, his face showing no emotion.

"If my wife doesn't want this, she can keep bidding for herself. If she can't, that's her own choice—I'm all for democracy."

The crowd agreed, their tones teasing.

"That's true. I heard that when Jessica tried to bid on that Renaissance Venetian glass stallion last time, she also placed unlimited bidding, but Mrs. Galley stopped her. She clearly has the power—we should see what she's capable of tonight."

Amid the chaos, the auction bell sounded.

I was pulled from the cage like an animal with a chain around my neck, and tied to the front row facing the large screen.

My body reports and photos flashed across it, and a wave of shame washed over me.

My hands shook as I clasped them together, my mind racing.

Oliver had put all our shared assets under his account. The black-market auction house's rules state that one account can't be used by two people at the same time.

Right now, I couldn't even afford to place a single bid—I didn't have a penny to my name.

Oliver had meticulously planned this.

He was well aware of my financial predicament, auctioning off any part of my body would completely ruin me.

I felt like a lamb to the slaughter, trapped with no escape.

We had been married for eight years, and I had stood by him as he rose from obscurity to become the CEO of the Galley Group.

Throughout all the struggles, I never uttered a complaint. When he achieved fame and success, I gladly took a step back to be his supportive wife.

But now, Oliver was bent on dragging me down—all in revenge for his mistress.

The conversations around us were relentless, filled with vulgar comments one after another.

"Mr. Galley really knows how to live it up—bet the women he's trained in bed are something else. I'll bid on Mrs. Galley as a whole and take her home to see for myself."

"No chance. I've been fixated on Mrs. Galley's feet for a long time. I'll have them cut off to make art—just gazing at them will thrill me. You can't have them."

I bit my lower lip hard, channeling all my strength to remain seated.

Eventually, the auctioneer stepped onto the stage, grabbed the microphone from the host, and announced the start of the auction.

I abruptly stood up, the chains clattering loudly.

"Hold on, I need to wash my face!"

Oliver slowly turned to look at me, his eyes filled with a cryptic mockery.

"Amy, don't even think about escaping. The security here is so tight, that not even a fly can leave. Save your energy."

I gritted my teeth against the physical pain and stared directly into his dark eyes.

"If not even a fly can escape, letting me wash my face to calm down isn't asking too much, is it? Or are you too stingy to allow me even that?"

The entire crowd held their breath, watching us intently.

As our eyes locked, an unspoken tension surged between Oliver and me—a silent confrontation.

Several influential figures familiar with him frowned.

"Don't delay Mr. Galley. We're all impatient. Just ignore her and start already."

"Exactly, this is wasting our time. I have a bath drawn at home, just waiting to take Mrs. Galley back."

Finally, under the expectant eyes of everyone, Oliver's expression turned cold and dark, his eyes ominously black.

"Shut up, all of you!"

When the host lost his cool, the room went silent.

The staff cuffed my hands, and I kept my back straight as I stumbled toward the water basin outside the door.

Only when the cold water splashed over my injured hands did my tense muscles briefly relax.

Exhausted, I collapsed onto the ground next to the basin, and the tears I'd been holding back finally flowed freely.

While the phone remained in my pocket, all the money from my account had been drained, leaving a balance of zero.

If I were auctioned off that night, I dreaded to think of the horrors that awaited me.

I might be cruelly dismembered and sold after being tormented, finding no peace even in death.

My mother, in a coma in a hospital back in our home country after a car accident, would lose her medical funds and die in despair following my demise.

With no other options, I made a firm decision.

Clenching my teeth, I opened the long-neglected contact account in my encrypted email.

The sound of rushing water echoed against the basin's stone wall, amplifying the eerie silence around me.

In this dangerous, rundown venue, it felt like a monstrous presence lurked, ready to pounce and tear me apart.

After sending the encrypted message, my hand fell heavily.

Five minutes later, I clinked my way back to the venue, the ankle chains dragging along.

As I pushed the door open, all eyes turned to me. Their gazes were filled with surprise, ridicule, and eager anticipation evident in their gazes.

Oliver, with a cigarette poised between his fingers, let the smoke wreath around his mysterious look like a fleeting veil.

He pulled Jessica into his embrace, shooting me a glare as he clearly pronounced, "Sweetheart, I love you. And anyone who dares to mess with you will pay the price!"

I walked straight to my seat, leaving bright red footprints in my wake.

My voice was raspy, nearly breaking as I said, "Let's begin now."

Chaos erupted in the room.

The auctioneer glanced at Oliver for approval.

He scoffed and nodded.

"Since Amy can't wait any longer, let's officially start."

As soon as he spoke, the lights in the auction hall dimmed.

The first auction item was displayed on the giant screen, my hands.

From wrist to nail, every detail was captured in high-definition, down to the visible pores.

On my right hand, a ludicrous ten-carat wedding ring still adorned my finger—a symbol of my tragic situation for everyone to see.

As I sat there, it felt as if living was more unbearable than dying.

At that moment, Oliver put an arm around Jessica and sat next to me. He leaned in, whispering softly in my ear, "Now that she's my wife, Jessica is generous. If you're willing to apologize to her and agree to leave the marriage without taking anything, I'll help you this once."

A cold smirk played on my lips.

He not only wanted to ruin me but also planned to seize our shared marital assets.

Then, like a wronged husband, he would publicly bring his mistress into our home.

I kept quiet, responding to his taunt with silence.

The auction began.

"Ms. Amy Mabre's items start at 800 thousand dollars, with each bid increasing by 150 thousand dollars."

As soon as the announcement was made, bidders in the room raised their paddles rapidly, pushing the price to three million.

Oliver's voice persisted beside me, "Think it over, sweetheart. Once it's gone, it's gone."

Meanwhile, the wealthy bidders leaned in closer, hungrily eyeing my clenched fists, eagerly awaiting the final bid.

At that moment, breaking my silence, I slowly raised my hand.

My eyes were filled with determination, and I announced with unwavering resolve, "Unlimited, please!"

The entire auction hall fell silent in shock.

"What's happening? How did she come up with the money to keep bidding?"

"Even now, she's pretending—this woman is unbelievable."

I kept my posture rigid and my eyes fixed unwaveringly on the screen.

Oliver gave a dismissive snort, clearly thinking I was merely putting on a show.

Jessica leaned against him flirtatiously, her voice saccharine-sweet, "Mrs. Galley, you're such a riot. Oliver offered to help you, yet you're still being stubborn and petty. Are you really planning on being with other men? How disgraceful."

Oliver sneered, his voice cold and detached as if speaking to a stranger while sliding his hand under the woman's clothes, eliciting a soft, breathy moan from her.

"Let her continue her little performance. She'll only end up losing more miserably," he remarked.

"Remember the rule I set. If someone keeps on bidding but can't pay, they'll have to serve guests for free in the auction house's underground club for a week."

Upon hearing Oliver's words, the auctioneer immediately addressed me with a serious tone, "Ms. Mabre, are you certain you want to place unlimited bidding? Please do not disrupt the proceedings, or there will be consequences."

My fingers shook incessantly, and my jaw was set in a firm line. My eyes were filled with a dense, dry ache, but I forced myself to respond, "Yes, I'm sure. Go ahead with the unlimited bidding."

The entire room burst into laughter, and the crowd demanded immediate fund verification.

"We need to verify your funds right now. With so many of us here, we won't waste time on your charade."

"Mr. Galley just showed us your account balance—you don't have a single cent. How dare you pretend!"

Amidst the laughter, Oliver shrugged nonchalantly.

"Amy, why bother? You've made your decision, and there's no turning back now. I can't help you."

He crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair, and waited mockingly for the auctioneer to arrange the fund verification.

The crowd clapped in rhythm, their chants growing into a deafening roar.

"Verify the funds! Verify! Verify!"

I sighed, took out my phone, entered the passcode, and handed it to the verification officer who approached me.

"Here. Check it, and be sure to return it afterward."

The fund verifier grabbed the phone with irritation, a mocking smirk forming at the edge of his lips as he complained, "This is such a hassle. We've already verified your account—why keep up this act? It's no wonder people don't like you. Mr. Galley is justified in his dislike."

Others joined in, whispering and pointing.

"Exactly, this is too funny. I could go all night with someone like her—fix all her attitude issues."

"Look at how much her legs are shaking; the chains are clinking! If her balance is still zero after this, I hope she doesn't wet herself. I'm just waiting to place a bid on those legs."

Jessica couldn't resist adding to the chaos.

"Come on, everyone, stop teasing her—can't you see Ms. Mabre is about to cry? If she runs out of tears now, what will the lucky tycoon do when he wins the bid? There won't be any tears left."

Her words carried a particularly harsh undertone.

Yet Oliver found it all delightful.

"My Jessica is just too charming. Even after such a setback, she remains optimistic and cheerful. I'll never tire of her."

The crowd joined in with laughter.

"Exactly, Ms. Dabel has more of a 'Mrs. Galley' vibe. As for Ms. Mabre, let us have the pleasure."

"I heard Mr. Galley and Ms. Dabel were college classmates—first loves, even. Mrs. Galley never figured it out all these years—what a fool. I definitely wouldn't bid on her brain."

I felt like thorns were piercing my back. Every hair on my body stood on end.

My heart felt like it was being torn apart, piece by piece as if it had stopped beating.

Finally, overwhelmed by the tears blurring my vision, I turned to Jessica beside me.

"A mistress who lures another woman's husband has no right to judge me. Your confidence today is merely dependent on men. Once they abandon you, your fate will be worse than mine."

Hearing this, Oliver, who had been as calm as a rock, suddenly became enraged.

He seized my arm and twisted it harshly.

"Amy, I'm warning you—stop targeting Jessica, or I won't hesitate to make your situation even worse!"

I let out a bitter laugh, fully aware that his threat was real.

Because I had thwarted Jessica's attempt to keep bidding and humiliated her, he had schemed this vile and ruthless revenge. What else was beyond him?

By now, I no longer cared about what else I might face.

From that moment on, Oliver was completely dead to me.

The clash between past beauty and present betrayal revealed that even the "beauty" had been a lie.

It all merged into the strength I needed to move forward. It couldn't possibly get worse than this.

I forcefully pulled away from Oliver's grasp and turned to the fund verifier.

"Why are you just standing there? Does verifying funds really need to be this complicated?"

The person paused, then frowned, and quickly got to work on the device.

The verification machine's sound was barely audible, yet it seemed especially jarring in the silence.

Despite this, excitement was visible on everyone's faces—they were eager and ready, anticipating what they assumed would be a ridiculous outcome.

But the verifier's expression shifted in the next moment.

Her initially dismissive demeanor slowly turned serious. She stared in disbelief, eyes wide, checking the results multiple times.

Oliver, growing impatient, pressed her, "What's happening? Is there an issue?"

I chuckled quietly, feeling a burning anger in my downcast eyes.

That anger crystallized into a sarcastic reply. "What's the verdict, Miss Fund Verifier?"