Michael raised his eyebrows, his gaze cold, while Samantha beside him looked at Emma with undisguised glee.
The air felt frozen. Emma stared at Michael, and the love she once held for him began to fade—bit by bit.
He knew Stars was a gift from his father. He knew how much the painting meant to her. And yet, he still intended to give it to Samantha.
Blood was already trickling from her clenched palm. As she looked at the man before her, her body began to tremble uncontrollably.
He was right. Even if he bullied her, she couldn’t do anything about it.
She had always depended on him. And because of that, he had no limits.
“Mrs. Grant, why don’t you kneel? After all, your family’s done this more than once.”
At that moment, voices began to rise from the crowd that had gathered after Samantha’s scream.
“She’s right. Didn’t your mother kneel down too when she forced you into the Grant family?”
“Hahaha, yeah. I should probably keep an eye on my own maid—don’t want her forcing anyone into my son’s bed!”
“Hahaha…”
As laughter erupted around her, Emma bit her lip and stubbornly held back her tears.
Her mother sending her to Michael’s bed had long become a joke among these people.
They all said she threw away her dignity just to transform from a pheasant into a phoenix.
Even after the marriage, whenever she went out to find Michael at the bar, people mocked her—some even asked how much she charged per night.
And through it all, Michael never once defended her.
He simply stood by, watching her humiliation, as if her suffering was his only form of justice.
“What’s wrong? It’s just kneeling. Are you ashamed now? But you weren’t ashamed when you climbed into my bed.”
Michael’s voice cut through the murmurs, filled with disdain and disgust.
“Oh? What’s going on here?”
Just then, a new voice rang out from the crowd.
It was Gary—the event’s organizer.
She glanced at the tearful Emma, then at Samantha and Michael, a polite smile on her face.
“Oh my, how did this lady’s dress get ruined? Someone help her go get changed.”
With that, Gary gestured for a waiter to assist Samantha out of the room.
“Alright, everyone, please disperse. The auction’s about to begin.”
Then, Gary turned to Michael with a professional tone. “Mr. Grant, I heard you’d be attending tonight, so I reserved one of our best seats for you. I’ll have someone escort you.”
She signaled to a staff member to come forward.
Michael looked at Gary, then glanced at Emma—silent, unmoving, like a shadow at the edge of the room. Maybe, in that moment, he felt the scene had lost its thrill.
Without another word, he followed the staff to his seat.
After he left, Gary gently took Emma’s arm and led her to a quiet corner of the hallway.
“Are you alright?”
Her voice was soft, eyes filled with concern.
Emma gave a faint smile, shook her head, and took a step back.
“Mr. Snyder, I came tonight to thank you for what you did for Daniel.”
“I heard about Daniel. I’m truly sorry. My condolences.”
“Thank you, Mr. Snyder.”
She paused, gathered herself, then continued.
“Mr. Snyder, I heard that Master Henry’s painting Stars is included in tonight’s auction?”
When Gary nodded, Emma inhaled deeply and summoned the courage to speak.
“I have a bold request… That painting means a great deal to me. Would it be possible for you to let me…”
