Chapter 85
“What the fuck did you just say to me, Aurora?”
Elara’s voice cut through the ambient noise of the gala, loud enough that several people nearby turned to look. She pulled back from the hug abruptly, putting distance between herself and the blonde woman who was now looking at her with wide, innocent eyes.
“Uhmm, what do you mean?” Aurora’s expression was the picture of confusion, her brow furrowing like she genuinely had no idea what Elara was talking about. “I didn’t say anything.”
Marcus was paying attention now, his focus shifting completely from the crowd to the two women in front of him. His eyes moved between them, trying to read the situation.
“What’s going on?” he asked, looking at Elara with confusion written all over his face. “What happened?”
“Ask her what she just said to me,” Elara demanded, pointing at Aurora. “Go ahead, ask her.”
Marcus turned to face Aurora, his expression becoming more serious. “What happened? What did you say to her?”
Aurora’s face crumpled slightly, her eyes getting glassy like she was about to cry. The transformation was instant and convincing, the kind of performance that came from years of practice. What a fucking actress.
“Marcus, I didn’t say anything to her,” Aurora said, her voice trembling just enough to sound genuine. “I don’t know what she’s talking about or what she’s accusing me of. I don’t really know why she’s so angry and raising attention toward us like this.”
She took a step closer to Marcus, her hand coming up to touch his arm. “I came over to say hello. I went in for a hug to show her there was no bad blood between us, that I was happy for you both, and she just piped up out of nowhere.”
Then she moved even closer, practically pressing herself against Marcus’s side like she needed his protection. He shifted uncomfortably, his body language stiff, but he didn’t push her away either.
Elara watched this entire performance with growing rage. The worst part wasn’t that Aurora was lying. The worst part was that Marcus didn’t look like he fully believed her, but he sure as hell didn’t one hundred percent believe Elara either. And that pissed her off more than anything Aurora could have said.
“Marcus-” Elara started.
But before she could continue, the microphone crackled to life again, cutting through the tension.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the live auction!” Richard Wellington’s voice boomed through the speakers with practiced enthusiasm. “Please, can we get prepared and take our seats? Everyone has their name cards on their assigned tables. Please look for your table number and settle down.”
The crowd immediately started moving, people checking their invitations and scanning the room for their table assignments. The moment was lost, the confrontation interrupted.
Aurora seized the opportunity. She leaned in close to Marcus, her voice dropping to something more intimate. “I have something important to discuss with you. It’s about me, and it’s really important Marc. Can we talk after the event?”
15:00 Mon, May 11 J
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$5 voch
“Sure.” Marcus said automatically, still looking between Aurora and Elara like he was trying to solve an equation that didn’t add up.
Aurora smiled, gave Elara one last look that was pure venom disguised as sympathy, and walked away. Her hips swayed in that red dress as she disappeared into the crowd.
Dante and Mimi found them a moment later, both looking confused about what they’d just witnessed from across the room.
“Everything okay?” Dante asked carefully.
“Perfect,” Elara said, her voice tight.
They started walking toward their assigned table, and Elara couldn’t hold it in anymore. She turned to Marcus, her voice low but furious.
“Really, Marcus? What the fuck? I said that bitch said something to me and you still didn’t one hundred percent believe me.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you, El—”
“Well, it certainly seems like you don’t! Because why the fuck would I pipe up over nothing? What reason would I have to make that up?”
“I just—”
“It seems like you believe your ex over me, which is fine. That’s just perfectly fucking great.”
“Okay, El,” Marcus said, his jaw tightening. “Let’s not make this into something it’s not. Please.”
“Forget it,” Elara snapped, turning away from him. “Just forget it.”
They reached their table in tense silence. It was near the front, close to the stage where the auction would take place. Their name cards were perfectly positioned: Marcus Thorne, Elara Thorne, Dante Rivera, Mimi Okafor. The seating arrangement put Marcus and Elara next to each other, which felt ironic given that they weren’t even looking at each other right now.
They settled into their seats just as the room quieted down. The lights dimmed slightly, and a spotlight illuminated the stage where an auctioneer now stood beside a large easel displaying the first piece of art.
“Right now we have our first piece,” the auctioneer announced, his voice smooth and professional. “A stunning landscape by emerging artist Maria Santos, oil on canvas, titled ‘City at Dusk.’ We’ll start the bidding at five thousand dollars.”
Paddles went up around the room. The bidding climbed quickly, people competing with the casual ease of those for whom money was just a number. Ten thousand. Fifteen thousand. Twenty thousand. Sold.
The next few pieces went similarly. A sculpture. A photography series. An abstract painting that Elara personally thought looked like someone had just thrown paint at a canvas, but it sold for forty thousand dollars anyway.
Then the fifth piece was revealed, and Elara’s attention sharpened immediately.
It was a painting of a pregnant woman, completely naked, her body covered in intricate tattoos that told
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Chapter 85
stories across her skin. The style was raw and honest, capturing something powerful about motherhood and femininity and strength. The woman in the painting looked fierce, unapologetic, beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with conventional standards.
Elara loved it immediately. Something about it resonated with her, made her think about her own pregnancy, about the twins growing inside her that nobody else knew about yet.
She was going to get this painting. She had Marcus’s black card in her clutch anyways. Money wasn’t an issue.
“This extraordinary piece is by local artist James Chen,” the auctioneer said. “Titled ‘Becoming.’ Oil on canvas. We’ll start the bidding at twenty thousand dollars.”
Elara raised her paddle immediately.
Marcus glanced at her, a small smile breaking through his earlier tension. At least something was making her happy tonight.
“Twenty-five thousand,” someone called from across the room.
“Thirty thousand,” Elara countered, raising her paddle again.
The bidding continued, climbing steadily. Thirty-five thousand. Forty thousand. Forty-five thousand. Other bidders started dropping out, unable or just unwilling to go higher.
“Fifty thousand,” Elara called out, her voice firm.
The auctioneer smiled. “We have fifty thousand dollars. Going once, going twice-”
“One hundred thousand!”
The voice came from the back of the room, cutting through everything else. Loud, clear, deliberate.
Elara turned around, her stomach dropping even though she already knew who it would be.
Aurora was standing at her table near the back, her paddle raised high, a triumphant smile on her face.
