The moment Bridget made her announcement, the entire room erupted.
Marjorie stared at Christian in disbelief. He was leaning down, pressing a kiss to Bridget's forehead.
"Something came up at the office. I need to head back." He straightened, his voice casual. "Here's ten billion to play with at the auction. Bid on whatever catches your eye. Don't hold back."
And then he left. The crowd's gazes shifted. Some looked at Bridget with naked envy. Most looked at Marjorie with contempt.
"She's already the ex-wife. Why is she even here, making a scene in front of the new girlfriend?"
"Like a leech that won't peel off..."
Marjorie clenched her fists so hard her nails broke the skin of her palms. The pain was sharp, grounding.
She'd already transferred the bulk of her assets overseas. The liquid funds she had left totaled one and a half billion. Nothing compared to the ten billion Christian had just handed Bridget like pocket change.
But she couldn't let Bridget see that.
The bracelet was the only thing her mother had left her. The only thing. She would not let it fall into the hands of someone that vile.
She drew a slow breath and forced her voice steady. "Seven hundred million."
Before the echo faded, Bridget fired back. "Eight hundred million."
They went back and forth, the numbers climbing past a billion, past twelve hundred million, past fourteen hundred million.
When Marjorie called out one and a half billion, she locked her eyes on Bridget and braced for whatever came next.
Bridget yawned. She actually yawned, stretching lazily in her seat. "Boring. I'm done. It's just a tacky old bracelet."
She stood, waving for the handler to deliver it to Marjorie.
Marjorie rushed forward to take it.
Her fingers had barely closed around the jade when Bridget's foot shot out.
Marjorie pitched forward, her body beyond her control. The bracelet flew from her hands, struck the floor, and split in two with a clean, terrible crack.
"Oh my God, she spent all that money and broke it herself!"
"Maybe she should see a doctor first? With all that blood on her head, she can't even walk straight. Brain damage, maybe?"
Bridget's laughter cut through the noise like glass. Marjorie stared at the two halves of the bracelet on the floor, rage and grief knotting so tight in her chest she couldn't breathe.
It was the only thing her mother had left her. And Bridget had destroyed it.
"Bridget Quinn, you psychopath!"
She bit down until she tasted blood and dragged herself off the ground. She hadn't even found her footing when Bridget's heel slammed into her side and sent her crashing back down.
Her forehead struck the edge of a step. The old wound from the car accident split open against the new one, and her vision went black at the edges, flickering in and out.
Then she heard Bridget's voice ring out across the hall, bright with excitement:
"It's my birthday today! You all heard, right? Christian just wired me ten billion dollars. Anyone who lands a hit on Marjorie Pruitt gets ten million. Limited supply, first come first served!"
The crowd surged to their feet like a dam had broken. Fists and shoes came from every direction.
Marjorie reached out, trying to shield the two halves of the bracelet with her body, but the mob pressed in from all sides, trampling over her.
She watched the bracelet get crushed underfoot. Four pieces. Six pieces. Fragments too small to pick up.
Her head, her back, her legs. Every part of her was covered in shoe prints.
She didn't know how long it lasted. At some point the beating stopped and the crowd drifted away, leaving Marjorie alone on the floor of the empty hall.
Her hands were slick with blood where they'd been stomped on. Her eyes had swollen nearly shut, reduced to slits.
She gathered every ounce of strength she had left and stretched her arm toward her phone, a few feet away. She needed to call the police.
The screen lit up with push notifications instead.
BREAKING: Sanchez Group CEO Christian Sanchez Exposed as Serial Cheater, Caught with College Student!
How Master Manipulator Christian Sanchez Turned His Own Wife into "The Other Woman"
Marjorie froze. Her eyes flicked to the timestamp.
The phone rang. Scarface. His voice was rough with anger.
"Ms. Pruitt, I went ahead and leaked everything on Christian Sanchez. A full day ahead of schedule. I couldn't stomach waiting any longer, not for a man that disgusting. I'm wiring back every cent you paid me. Consider it my public service."
His gruff voice echoed through the empty auction hall. Something warm flickered in Marjorie's chest.
She called herself an ambulance. After they treated her injuries at the hospital, she slipped out into the night, took a cab to the airport, and changed her ticket to the next red-eye to Switzerland.
Before the plane took off, Marjorie checked Sanchez Group's stock price one last time.
The screen was a wall of green, plummeting so fast it almost hurt to look at. A cold smile crossed her face. She snapped her SIM card in half and dropped the pieces into the trash.
She hoped Christian enjoyed his parting gift.
