The Auction Floor

The gavel cracked against its block. Five million dollars. Whispers ran through the ballroom. Onstage, Julian Sterling smiled straight at me. The auctioneer might as well have been invisible. The room was packed with people who knew our history. Julian had paid five million dollars for their attention as much as he had paid for the necklace. He wanted a scene. I used to give him one. Seraphina Croft hung on his arm and made sure I saw her smile. Julian had brought us both here for this moment. Julian collected the diamond necklace, returned to Seraphina, and fastened it around her neck in front of a hundred guests. The stones threw white sparks under the chandeliers. I recognized *First Snow*. One winter night, Julian had sketched the starburst design on a napkin, then traced it across my wrist. “For the day you become Mrs. Sterling,” he had said. The starburst had once been his promise. Tonight he had turned the same design into bait. Now it sat on Seraphina's throat, and Julian kept watching me. Seraphina came to my table. She pitched her voice low enough to sound private and loud enough for the next table to hear. “It’s exquisite, isn’t it?” She touched the centerpiece, her red nails a stark contrast against the brilliant white. “Julian said this piece was always meant for the right woman.” She gave me a pitying smile. “Try to hold it together, Chloe. Hysterics won’t win him back this time.” Three years ago, I might have thrown a glass. Julian had counted on that version of me showing up. That woman had begged him through a locked door and believed he would come. He had left her on a cold linoleum floor with our dead child. I drank my sparkling water and brushed two fingers over the small curve beneath my gown. My pregnancy was still mine to keep quiet. I met Seraphina's gaze and smiled. “It suits you,” I said, my voice even and clear. I raised my glass. “In fact, a heartfelt congratulations to you both. May you be locked together, forever. You truly deserve each other.” Seraphina's smile slipped. Across the room, Julian stopped with his glass halfway to his mouth. He came over at once. “What game are you playing now, Chloe?” “Game?” I feigned innocence, placing my glass down. “No games, Julian. I’m just happy for you.” I stood up, smoothing the silk of my gown. “If you’ll excuse me, my husband is waiting.” His face changed at “husband.” He reached for my wrist with the same grip that used to leave bruises. I stepped aside before he could touch me. Then I took a silk handkerchief from my clutch and wiped the spot his fingers had nearly reached. “We’re over, Julian. You don't get to touch me. Ever again.” His stare took me back to the night the orderlies dragged me away. “Husband?” he finally spat out, his voice shaking with a rage that silenced the tables around us. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who in their right mind would marry a broken, unstable psycho like you?” The tables around us went quiet. I let his insult sit there. A black Maybach stopped outside the ballroom's glass doors. The chauffeur opened the rear door, and a man stepped out. Alexander Thorne. Alexander was taller and broader than Julian. More important, he was the business rival Julian feared enough to track in every financial paper. Alexander saw me through the glass and smiled. He gave Julian no more attention than he gave the coat stand beside the door. I crossed the marble floor without looking back. Julian's stare followed me all the way to the door. Alexander met me at the entrance and put his coat over my shoulders. He adjusted the collar away from my throat before his hand settled at my waist. He waited for me to lean into him before guiding me outside. “Everything alright, my love?” His eyes moved over my face, checking. “Perfectly,” I replied, leaning into his warmth. “Just tying up a loose end.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me to the car. Once we were inside, I looked back through the tinted window. Julian stood in the doorway. Behind him, the five-million-dollar necklace still flashed at Seraphina's throat, but no one was looking at it now. He would call this another ploy. That explanation had always been easier for him than listening to me. He could keep it. Alexander took my hand as the car pulled away. “Home?” he asked. “Home.”