My mom's bracelet ended up at an auction house.

I showed up at the auction house, only to run into my husband, Jackson Stainbrook, who was supposed to be away on a business trip, bidding alongside his secretary.

"Don't embarrass the girl. I'll make it up to you later, alright?"

Left with no other choice, I raised my hand to offer unlimited bidding.

His secretary, Jessie Krueger, utterly humiliated, fled the room as laughter erupted around her.

Jackson gently pulled me into his arms. He didn't go after her.

Six months later, I attended another auction—only to find a full collection of my mother's nude photos and old pictures of my father's gangster past turned into a photo book called "The Life of a Famous Designer," sold page by page.

There were 582 pages in total.

Jessie curled up in Jackson's arms, her eyes gleaming with smug delight.

"Nicole, didn't you love making a big show of unlimited bidding at auctions? Well, here's your chance—this collection should give you more than enough to indulge yourself."

***

On the big screen overhead were the very images I wished most to erase from memory.

The most powerful figures in Los Angeles had gathered, casually passing judgment as the photos flickered by.

"I heard her mom used to be the top draw at the Pleasure Palace. Her father was the one collecting the money downstairs."

"Who would've thought? The most promising designer in Los Angeles came from a family like that?"

"Looks like the talent runs in the family. Mr. Stainbrook kept this side of him hidden well—no wonder he lives so comfortably."

Business partners cast meaningful glances at Jackson.

I stood there frozen, my body cold, fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. I turned to look at Jackson, my husband, the man who had shared my bed.

And there he was, lounging back in his chair, Jessie nestled against his chest, batting her eyes at me with a triumphant smile.

Jackson smirked lazily.

"Each page is sold individually. The highest bidder gets exclusive access to a private drive—with full videos featuring your mother and the hundreds of clients she entertained over her lifetime."

The room erupted in excited applause and cheers.

Jackson held Jessie close as they left their seats, then strolled over to me, looking down with mocking amusement.

"Baby, isn't this the perfect chance for you to get your fill of raising your paddle? Don't worry—Jessie won't steal the spotlight this time."

The crowd, sensing the drama, closed in to watch.

"Oh come on, Mr. Stainbrook," someone teased. "After the last auction, you told us to suppress your wife's studio. We did exactly that. She can't even afford to raise her hand once, let alone 500 times."

"Ah, my memory's terrible," Jackson replied lightly. "I only said that out of frustration, didn't expect you'd all go along with it. What a shame.

"Oh well, guess my mother-in-law's photos will just have to live on in someone else's art collection."

I stared at him, stunned, then shot to my feet.

"You told people to sabotage my studio behind my back? Do you have any idea—I've burned through all my cash just to keep the lights on! I even re-mortgaged Mom's bracelet to pay my staff!

"Jackson, why? Is it just because I raised my hand that day and outshone Jessie?"

Jackson looked at me with icy detachment, utterly unmoved.

"What are you so upset about, Nicole? Jessie was humiliated, too, but she got through it. Why can't you?"

Then he turned away, still holding Jessie, and walked off without another glance.

As she passed me, Jessie let out a soft, mocking laugh.

"Ms. Sullivan, hope you enjoy the rest of your night."

The entire room burst into laughter.

"Mr. Stainbrook, aren't you going to sponsor Mrs. Stainbrook a little? Hahaha!"

Jackson shrugged and flashed a helpless smile.

"My honey's the picture of independence. She insists on relying on her skills to place 'unlimited bidding.' I mean, she's the daughter of a gangster after all—tough as nails."

"That's true! She made a name for herself back then with that 13-million-dollar bracelet—claimed it outright without even blinking. Can't wait to see what she pulls off tonight!

"I'm itching to go up against her myself."

Just then, the auction bell rang.

Everyone took their seats according to their paddle numbers, shooting me mocking glances as they passed.

Over the past six months, every bit of usable capital I had had been locked up. Every person in that room could outbid me with one casual raise of their paddle. They were all wealthy beyond reach.

And Jackson knew that better than anyone.

He also knew that if even a fraction of those photo books made it out into the world, I'd be utterly ruined. Worse, my already-deceased parents would become the targets of public ridicule and cruelty.

It felt like I was being roasted alive, trapped with no way out.

I grew up attending elite schools, receiving the best education and training. I'd chased my dreams and made them real, becoming someone people admired, envied even.

But the day I finally made it, when I reached the peak of my career, my parents lit the charcoal and ended their lives.

They did it, so they wouldn't stain my future. They gave their lives to lift me to a place that others were born into.

And now, everything they died to protect was being destroyed by Jackson.

"She always acts so proper and composed, doesn't she?"

"No wonder Mr. Stainbrook left her for Ms. Krueger. Who could put up with that? I'd be sick of her too."

I dug my fingers into my thigh, so hard it hurt, forcing back the tears that were threatening to spill.

Just as the auctioneer was about to begin, I raised my paddle to request a delay.

Jackson's eyes locked onto mine. His voice was calm, but the meaning behind it was sharp and cold.

"Nicole, you know what happens if you try to run from this, right?"

That was a threat, plain and simple, laced with disdain.

I hesitated, then slowly turned to face him, locking eyes with the man I once trusted with my life.

"You set this whole trap for me. The least you can do is wait five more minutes. Or are you going to drop dead before then?"

The room fell dead silent. All eyes were suddenly on us.

Tension crackled in the air, and Jackson's smirk faded into a thunderous scowl.

A few of his buddies exchanged uneasy glances.

"Mr. Stainbrook, maybe we should just tell the organizers the delay doesn't count? This auction isn't public anyway—we make the rules here."

"Yeah, who has time to watch her play out this drama? If she's broke, just say so. We came here for the videos."

Jackson's eyes narrowed into slits. He spoke in a low, frigid voice.

"Get the hell out."

The crowd instantly fell silent.

I turned and walked away, keeping my back straight as I forced myself into the restroom.

Pulling out my phone, I contacted the studio's finance team and had every last cent of my available funds transferred out. It wasn't enough to leave me destitute, but compared to the cost of buying up every single one of those albums, it was a drop in the ocean.

My mother had sacrificed her entire life for me. I couldn't just sit by and watch others trample on her name now that she was gone.

Her past might not have been respectable, but she had still raised me to be someone who could hold her head high.

That thought broke the dam. My tears began falling uncontrollably.

In that moment of complete despair, my eyes landed on a number saved in my phone for years—a number I had never once dared to call.

The restroom echoed with the faint sound of dripping water. I stared at the screen, then finally tapped the call button.

The last thing my parents ever taught me was this: Once you make a decision, don't look back.

Ten minutes later, I returned to the auction hall.

Across the crowd, I looked up and met his gaze.

For a brief second, something dark and unreadable flickered in Jackson's eyes—but it vanished almost immediately. His smirk returned as he tilted his head and playfully pinched Jessie's cheek, shooting me a sidelong glance before kissing her hard.

"Baby," he murmured, "tonight I'll make sure you're satisfied. Every bit of injustice you've suffered, I'll make them pay back tenfold. Trust me."

I looked away, expressionless.

Returning to my seat, I spoke in a calm voice, "Thank you all for waiting. We may begin now."

The auctioneer glanced at Jackson. Only after Jackson gave a slight nod did the gavel drop, signaling the start of the auction. The first set of photo albums appeared on the screen.

Ten photos per set.

My mother's humiliation, her suffering, was exposed without restraint for everyone to see.

My phone buzzed quietly. It was a message from Jackson.

"If you kneel right now and apologize to Jessie in front of everyone, I'll buy every single one of those photos and take them home. No one else will ever see them."

I gave a slight tug at the corner of my mouth, then silently turned off my phone.

The auctioneer announced the opening bid: 160,000 dollars per set, with each raise requiring a minimum of 80,000 dollars.

In less than a minute, bidding had already soared past 800,000 dollars.

My phone kept vibrating—Jackson's taunts popped up one after another.

Everyone around me was watching, entertained by my downfall, eager for the moment I finally crashed into hell.

I slowly raised my hand and then made a gesture toward the auctioneer.

Word by word, I said, "Those all, unlimited bidding."

Gasps rippled through the room.

"Damn! She's something. Ms. Sullivan just doesn't know when to quit."

"Last time, she didn't even get a secondary card from Mr. Stainbrook. This time, not only did she lose that, her studio's practically bankrupt—and she's still putting on a show?"

I turned my head and locked eyes on Jackson, refusing to look away.

The cruel mockery in his gaze felt like the final straw that crushed me.

Jessie leaned seductively into his neck, her crimson lips brushing against the corner of his mouth as she purred, "Look, Jackson, she's still trying to fight you. Even now, with her face on the line in front of everyone, she'd rather humiliate herself than just admit she was wrong."

Jackson looked at me calmly. A trace of a smirk tugged at his lips, like a bored spectator watching a clown perform. Then, with deliberate tenderness, he pressed a kiss to Jessie's lips.

"Well then, let's just watch," he said lazily. "Let's see how she plans to end this once she's drained herself dry and still can't pay up.

"If it gets that bad, she could always follow in her mother's footsteps—strip down and sell herself off. Though honestly, I doubt anyone would want a woman I've already worn out."

The auctioneer turned to me with a cold expression. According to protocol, he had to confirm.

"If you intend to offer unlimited bidding, you'll need to register with the house and verify proof of funds. We need to ensure you can cover it."

I clenched my jaw so tightly it hurt. My whole body felt drained as if someone had sucked the life out of me.

My eyes burned red with tears, but I forced myself to stay upright.

"No problem," I said, my voice barely steady.

A snort of laughter broke the tension. One man stood up from his seat, leaning forward to stare at me, voice thick with derision.

"Ms. Sullivan, come on now. Stop pretending. That trashy company of yours? We're the ones who bet on taking it down ourselves. No one knows better than we do just how little you have left. You dragging this out isn't fooling anyone."

Laughter erupted around the room.

My heart felt like it was being sliced open as I looked toward Jackson. He met my gaze without flinching, his face calm, almost smug.

"What? Thinking about begging me now?" he said. "Sorry—you're too late."

Then he turned to the auctioneer, who was still waiting for a final confirmation.

"If Ms. Sullivan wants to put on a show, let's help her out," Jackson said. "You guys all still have time, right?"

That got a round of knowing laughter.

"Of course," someone called. "This is exactly why we came today—good company and good entertainment. If the clown insists on performing, we'd be fools not to enjoy the act."

I tore my eyes away and shut them tightly for a moment, then forced myself to my feet and stepped onto the stage.

From my phone, I pulled up a digital bank card and handed it to the auction house attendant, who had come up with a verification device.

Down below, the crowd buzzed with schadenfreude, pointing and whispering like spectators at a freak show.

"She's such a joke. Honestly, she acts better than half the girls working the nightclubs. Like mother, like daughter—this kind of talent must run in the blood."

"Seriously, look at her hands—they're shaking! I bet she won't even be able to stay standing after the funds check."

Just then, Jessie suddenly spoke up, feigning sympathy as she interrupted everyone, "Oh, come on, gentlemen, that's enough. Can't you see Nicole's about to cry? She's still a woman—she has her pride. You keep pushing her like this, and of course, she's going to force herself on stage. Honestly, I kind of get where she's coming from."

Jackson let out a soft laugh.

"She treats you like this, and you still speak up for her? You are a little fool."

The others jumped in to flatter her as well.

"Oh, look at Ms. Krueger—that's what a true lady from a prestigious family looks like. We've been saying this all along: Mr. Stainbrook never should've married Nicole just because he felt sorry for her. That moment of weakness cost him a perfect match with Ms. Krueger.

"Good thing it's not too late. Kicking that bastard child of a whore to the curb is the best decision he's ever made."

I looked down from the auction stage, scanning every face in the crowd until my gaze settled on Jessie's smug expression.

I let out a sharp, scornful laugh. "A lady? You call her a lady? Since when did a true lady shamelessly seduce someone else's husband with zero regard for decency or morals? As far as I'm concerned, she's filthier than any prostitute."

Jackson's voice turned cold as he threatened, "Nicole, I'm warning you—watch your mouth."

I let out a bitter laugh. I believed him, of course.

All this was just because I'd stolen the spotlight from Jessie by buying back something that had rightfully belonged to my mother. And for that, Jackson had set up this whole elaborate scheme to humiliate and destroy me.

What more would he do in the future? I didn't even want to imagine.

But it didn't matter anymore, because whatever feelings I had left for Jackson had completely died.

The love I once felt has burned into the fuel keeping me standing here today. Whatever else he had planned, he couldn't hurt me more than this.

I turned back to the hostess holding the card reader and gave a faint smile. "Well? What are you waiting for? Go ahead. Run the check."

The beeping of the POS machine echoed in the room. The auction hall, once filled with laughter and sneers, fell completely silent.

Every pair of eyes was fixed on the screen, anticipation gleaming in their expressions, just waiting for a hilariously pathetic number to appear.

But slowly, the hostess's condescending look turned into one of shock.

I bit my lip and clenched my fists to keep my hands from shaking. Fighting back the sting in my eyes, I looked up and asked quietly, "Well? What's the result?"

She didn't say a word for several seconds, then nervously glanced at the auctioneer, silently asking for help.

The auctioneer leaned over to look at the screen. His previously lazy, disinterested eyes widened with disbelief. A beat later, he snapped his head toward Jackson.

"Mr... Mr. Stainbrook..."

Jackson immediately sensed something was off. His brows furrowed instinctively.

"What? Is the number too low to announce?"

He gave a dismissive chuckle. "Come on, don't spare my feelings. Everyone here knows I'm not that petty."

The crowd chimed in gleefully, "Exactly. We've been friends with Mr. Stainbrook for years. Just say it."

They were still brimming with smug excitement, ready to watch me fall flat on my face.