Luna's Payback: Claiming My Fate!

50:

Veronica prepared her most captivating smile. This was the beginning of her plans, and she wasn’t going to let tonight pass without getting Angelo’s attention. If she couldn’t grab his attention on her first attempt, how much harder would it be in the coming days? She needed to make sure he became obsessed with her, starting now.

But her smile faded the moment she saw the figure of her devil husband greeting a familiar woman. He hugged the newly arrived guest. Her gut feeling had been right—it was none other than Miss Aura!

Her eyes narrowed with anger and frustration. She knew it. Angelo would never pass up a woman like that. He had a type—tall, beautiful, and obviously wealthy.

She clenched her fist in frustration. "From then until now, you haven’t changed, Angelo. You’re still a leech! You suck up to whoever benefits you. Let’s see how far your social climbing gets you," she muttered in her mind.

Immediately, her eyes searched for her comfort zone: Javier.

And true to his word, he was simply watching from a distance, mingling with different guests, but his eyes remained on her. No women were hovering around him, though she could sense the admiring looks being thrown his way by various women at the party. But he was keeping himself off-limits. She was thankful that even though she wasn’t the real Beatrice, he still respected her.

Unlike her devil husband, who was thirsty for validation and attention from others, especially from women. He reveled in the feeling of being admired, as if he were the most handsome man in the room, a prized catch in everyone’s eyes. It fed his ego.

Javier seemed to understand what was happening and gave her a small gesture, signaling, “You can do it.” Her spirits lifted. Javier trusted her; he had lied to the entire Black Moon Pack just for the sake of their revenge, so she had to step up and play her part well.

She decided to cool her head for a moment. There was a small bar counter for those who wanted to drink wine and champagne. She walked over and requested a glass of champagne. The bartender politely made her a women’s drink and handed it to her.

In the past, she had never touched alcohol. But with Javier’s guidance, she had learned to drink wine and champagne to truly look like a “businesswoman.”

She was about to down the champagne glass in frustration when she remembered what Lucy had taught her. “You’re not going to drink like those men at birthday parties. If you drink, make it elegant. Classy. Drink slowly, thoughtfully. Don’t just gulp it down. Imagine you’re testing the flavor. Move gracefully, like a true woman,” she heard Lucy’s voice in her subconscious.

So, she slowly lifted the champagne flute, her fingers wrapping delicately around the slender stem. Her movements were slow and deliberate. The glass seemed to hover in the air for a moment, catching the soft glow of the chandeliers. Her posture was flawless—shoulders back, chin slightly tilted, giving her an effortless air of control.

Her lips barely brushed the edge of the glass, and she took the smallest sip, just enough to wet her lips. She didn’t gulp or even swallow quickly; instead, she let the bubbles dance lightly on her tongue, savoring the moment as though time had no claim over her. Her gaze remained calm and steady, her eyes not betraying any rush or need. Every gesture, from the subtle tilt of her wrist to the graceful lowering of the glass, spoke of quiet confidence—like someone who knew exactly where she stood in this world of power and luxury.

Without a word, she glanced around the room, her expression neutral yet commanding, as if daring anyone to try and find fault in her perfectly poised exterior. Even her breath was measured, the faintest hint of amusement playing at the corner of her mouth, as if she was always one step ahead. In that moment, she was elegance personified, as untouchable as the finest diamond in the room.

She needed to forget Veronica now; she was Beatrice Romanov. She had to embrace it. Her eyes wandered around the room again, searching for her devil husband, and she was not disappointed as she saw the wide grin on his face while he manipulated the poor Miss Aura.

From the man's mannerisms alone, she could tell he was a narcissist. He showered Miss Aura with flowery words, making her believe there was no other choice but him, as if he were the best option for her.

She knew he didn’t love Miss Aura. The demonic smile on his lips suggested he was only using the poor woman for his personal gain. The same tactics he had used on her before; but back then, what had he hoped to gain from her? She might not have been poor before, but she also didn’t come from an elite family.

“Your days are numbered, Angelo Fuentebella. Remember my presence, because I am the one who will bring you and your worthless family down,” she thought, not realizing she had tightened her grip on the champagne glass.

The lights in the banquet hall changed, and the host began to speak. His black velvet tuxedo caught the light as the crowd gradually quieted. He stood tall, radiating confidence with a polished ease that came only from years of commanding rooms full of wealth and power. His silver hair was neatly combed, every detail of his appearance meticulously arranged—just like the event itself.

With a charming smile, he spread his arms wide, as if welcoming old friends, though most of the faces in the crowd were shrouded behind polite indifference.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice smooth, effortlessly cutting through the quiet murmur of conversation. “Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate success and prosperity but to extend a hand to those who need it most.” His words carried a practiced warmth, the kind that made even the most jaded guest pause. “This evening is more than luxury—it’s a chance to give back, to leave a mark beyond the walls of privilege we’re so fortunate to know.”

With a small nod, he gestured toward the stage, where a sleek display of auction items glimmered under the lights, hinting at the generosity yet to come.

All focus was now on the auction items. Even Angelo and Miss Aura were engrossed. She saw how he flaunted his wealth, seemingly offering on almost every item.

Where had he gotten those hundred thousand dollars? His family had come from nothing.

The auction hall buzzed with excitement, each paddle lift accompanied by a quiet murmur from the audience. High society was in full swing, and the bidding war had been fierce so far, but nothing had prepared them for what was about to happen.

On stage, the auctioneer presented the next item: a lovely ruby bracelet with tiny stones that shimmered like drops of blood under the chandelier. "Our next item is this stunning ruby bracelet, which starts at $5,000. Do I hear five?"

A hand rose almost instantly. A man in the front called out, "Five thousand!" His voice was eager but firm. The auctioneer nodded. "We've got five thousand! Do I hear six?"

Another paddle was raised. "Six thousand," someone in the middle row said.

The auctioneer’s voice quickened. "Six thousand, do I hear seven?"

Bids steadily increased, indicating the bracelet was in high demand. The crowd murmured louder, their eyes flitting between bidders. Angelo Fuentebella held Miss Aura closely, one arm wrapped around her curves, a smirk tugging at his lips. His gaze shifted to Miss Aura, who was regarding the bracelet with quiet interest.

The bidding reached $20,000, and Angelo made his move. He straightened up and lifted his paddle as if it were an afterthought. "Fifty thousand."

Silence.

The auctioneer blinked, caught off guard for a brief moment before recovering. "F-fifty thousand! We have fifty thousand from Mr. Fuentebella!"

The audience gasped audibly. Heads whipped in Angelo's direction. A few women exchanged wide-eyed glances, and the men shifted uncomfortably in their seats. A man in the second row dropped his paddle and mumbled something under his breath, as if he had just been sucker-punched. No one had expected such a high bid for something so small.

Angelo leaned back with a self-satisfied grin, crossing his legs leisurely and taking in the surprised looks. His gaze remained on Miss Aura, who had now completely turned her attention to him. Her lips curved slightly, not quite a grin, but enough to fill Angelo's chest with pride.

Everyone could sense it—the boldness in the air, the arrogance looming over him like a dark cloud. He didn’t bid because he wanted the bracelet. He was making a statement. Proving a point.

Whispers echoed across the room, with envy etched into every word. Some others shook their heads in surprise, while others gave Angelo a thinly veiled sneer. It wasn’t the money that concerned them, but how he tossed it around like confetti at a parade. His entire demeanor suggested this was mere child’s play for him.

The auctioneer, apparently flustered, clapped the gavel down. "Fifty thousand going once... twice... SOLD to Mr. Fuentebella!"

Angelo gave a short, dismissive nod, as if he had just purchased a coffee, not an outrageously expensive piece of jewelry. The spotlight was his, just where he wanted it, and the room was filled with resentment.

When the staff handed him the ruby bracelet, he didn’t even look at it. His gaze remained fixed on Miss Aura, who arched an eyebrow in amusement.

Irritating, pompous, and utterly unpleasant, Angelo Fuentebella had once again reminded everyone of who he was.

And he enjoyed every second of it.

She clenched her fist in intense anger. “That f*****g son-of-a-b***h! He really loves the attention, all of it!”

She glanced in Javier’s direction. Although she couldn’t see his full face, she noticed the corner of his mouth lift slightly. From afar, he signaled to her about the necklace she was wearing.

“Tears of Aphrodite,” she read from his lips.

She frowned. She didn’t understand. What was so special about the necklace she was wearing? Although she knew this is expensive.

Minutes passed, and the lights in the auction hall dimmed as the host, standing on stage, grinned and declared, "Ladies and gentlemen, that ends our auction for the evening."

A gentle murmur rippled through the gathering, their voices filled with happiness or regret, depending on the night’s outcomes. Servers in tuxedos began circulating among the crowd, bringing one final round of champagne. It seemed the evening was coming to a smooth, uneventful end—until a sharp gasp cut through the air.

"Oh my God, is that the Tears of Aphrodite?"

All heads turned toward the sound. A woman in the rear had risen from her seat, her eyes wild and fixed directly on Veronica. Veronica froze, her heart pounding as she noticed the woman staring at her neck.

The crowd shifted, and the murmurs grew louder. Veronica felt the weight of countless eyes on her, each filled with admiration, curiosity, and envy. Her hand instinctively moved to her throat, brushing over the chilly surface of the necklace she had put on without thinking. It had seemed like a simple piece of jewelry, but now the name "Tears of Aphrodite" hung in the air, loaded with significance.

Across the room, near the exit, Javier leaned casually against the wall, his sharp eyes on her. He caught her gaze and lifted his hand with a subtle yet deliberate movement, accompanied by a nod.

Veronica’s heart raced in her chest. What the hell is happening? She had no idea what was going on.

"Miss… Is that truly the Tears of Aphrodite?” The host’s voice burst forth, full of enthusiasm. He took a step closer to her, his eyes shining with fascination. "Would you like to confirm this for us?"

Her throat tightened, and her mind raced. Tears of Aphrodite? She had no idea. Isn’t this just the jewelry Javier gave her?

The host continued before she could react, his voice brimming with excitement. "This is a one-of-a-kind piece—there's only one in the entire world, valued at… $5.4 million!" His announcement shook the audience, causing gasps, whispers, and quick breaths to reverberate across the room like a hurricane.

Veronica nearly choked. $5.4 million? The weight of the necklace felt suffocating, and her fingers reflexively reached for it, as if to keep it from slipping away. The once-luxurious gem felt like a ticking bomb around her neck.

All eyes were fixed on her. The attention was overwhelming.

But none more than his.

Angelo, seated only a few rows away, moved forward, his piercing eyes narrowing as they locked onto her. The typical smugness in his expression had vanished, replaced by something darker and more calculating. His lips curled into a slow, menacing smile. He looked at the necklace as if it were a treasure waiting to be claimed—and at Veronica, the unsuspecting fool who was wearing it.

Veronica caught another glimpse of Javier out of the corner of her eye. He continued to watch her, calm and composed. His fingers moved again, this time indicating a small nod. His message was clear: go with the flow.

Her heart raced. She needed to say something, anything, before the pressure overwhelmed her.

The host cleared his throat, breaking the tension as he leaned in, his smile predatory. "Miss, would you consider auctioning off the Tears of Aphrodite tonight? I am confident that many of our guests would be interested." His voice was silky and frighteningly enticing.

Veronica opened her mouth to answer, but the words stuck in her throat. She felt trapped and confused about what to do. Panic surged in her chest, and then—

Javier moved forward from the shadows, suddenly commanding the room’s attention. His cool, confident smile never faltered as he approached her. He didn’t touch her, but his presence was enough to make him appear possessive in everyone’s eyes.

Veronica could sense the strain. She could see the implicit competition and power struggle unfolding in real-time. Everyone could.

And suddenly, all eyes were on her. The necklace. The men. The moment. Her devil husband. And the world seemed to be hanging in the balance!