I refused to let myself appear vulnerable in front of them.
Stumbling back into the auction hall, I felt as though I were sleepwalking.
After what felt like an eternity, Ryan finally returned. His tie, meticulously knotted when he left that morning, was now carelessly crooked.
When our eyes met, he hastily adjusted it, fumbling with guilt etched into every motion.
"It was a little hot just now," he muttered, avoiding my gaze.
Then, with a forced casualness, he added, "Nora, the necklace had a slight defect. I returned it. Don’t worry, I’ll get you something even better next time."
Before I could respond, Penelope appeared, as if summoned by fate to twist the knife.
The Eternal Heart necklace gleamed on her neck, its brilliance mocking me.
A bitter laugh echoed in my heart. Ryan, are lies all you have left?
“Nora,” Penelope began with a false sweetness, her tone dripping with condescension. “Can I take Mr. Mitchell’s car back to the company later?”
Her words were laced with pride, a thinly veiled jab.
I couldn’t bear another second in their presence. The air around them was suffocating, tainted with betrayal.
“Do whatever you want,” I said coldly and walked away, my steps hurried and unsteady.
In the bathroom, I splashed water on my face, trying to regain composure. The door creaked open behind me, and I didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Penelope.
She sauntered in, her fingers deliberately playing with the necklace draped around her neck.
“Nora,” she sneered, her voice thick with arrogance. “Mr. Mitchell loves me now. He gave me this necklace to prove it. I’m the one who will stand by his side for life.”
Her words were sharp, each one a dagger aimed at my heart.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll disappear on your own,” she added smugly.
The “Eternal Heart” necklace—its meaning was clear: the one who wore it was destined to share a lifetime with their true love.
Once, I had cherished that thought, believing in its promise because of Ryan.
But now, neither the necklace nor the man who gave it mattered to me anymore.
I turned to her, my gaze cold, my voice steady. “If you want me to leave, have Ryan tell me himself. And if you’re so confident, why are you here, begging me to go? Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell him about this little display of yours?”
Her smirk faltered, and her face twisted with anger. “Hmph! I’m carrying Mr. Mitchell’s child. Soon, he won’t have any use for you,” she snapped, venom dripping from her words.
Satisfied with her parting shot, she stormed out, casting a hateful glare in my direction.
I turned back to the mirror, staring at the pale, tear-streaked face reflected there.
And then, I laughed.
It wasn’t a laugh of joy but of bitter realization, the kind that bubbles up when you finally understand the cruel irony of it all.
I laughed until my makeup was smudged and ruined.
Ten years of love, devotion, and sacrifice—all of it shattered like glass.
It’s time to wake up from this dream. Or rather, this nightmare disguised as love.
As I approached the car, I reached for the passenger door handle, but the window rolled down before I could open it.
Penelope’s face appeared, framed by the glass. She looked up at me with an expression of feigned weakness, her voice soft and fragile.
“Nora, I get carsick easily. Can you sit in the back?” she asked innocently.
Her words struck a nerve. “Every time I ride in Mr. Mitchell’s car, I sit in the passenger seat.”
It was an unspoken rule—a spot that had always been reserved for me. And now, Ryan had broken it.
I swallowed the bitterness rising in my chest and turned to him. “Is this what you want too?”
Ryan hesitated for a moment before replying, “Well, Nora, Penelope really isn’t feeling well today. Please let her sit up front.”
Uncomfortable? Or just manipulating him?
My patience snapped. The anger I’d been suppressing boiled over, spilling into my words. “Ryan, either she gets out of the car, or I go back by myself. You decide.”
He stared at me, stunned by my defiance, unable to respond.
Just then, Penelope clutched her stomach dramatically and let out a soft moan. “Oh, Mr. Mitchell, my stomach suddenly hurts so much. Can you take me to the hospital?”
Her performance was flawless.
Ryan’s face filled with panic. “Nora, go back by yourself,” he said hurriedly, his focus already on her.
He reached for the ignition to start the car, but I wasn’t done.
Fueled by a mix of fury and desperation, I dashed in front of the vehicle, blocking its path with my arms spread wide.
Ryan slammed on the brakes, startled. “Nora! What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to die? Get out of the way!” he shouted, his voice raw with anger and disbelief.
“I won’t!” I yelled back, my voice trembling but resolute.
“She’s lying, Ryan. She’s not sick—she’s pretending! You can’t take her. I won’t let you.”
I stood firm, staring him down. “If you’re so determined to take her, then go ahead—drive over me!”
