For a second, a shadow seemed to pass over Bryon's face.
Almost without thinking, he pulled his arm away from the woman clinging to it.
"Helena, you didn't reply to my messages. Did you come here to surprise me?" he asked.
Helena blinked. Surprise?
How cheeky of him to just assume she'd still be surprising him with anything.
Helena lifted her gaze to him and watched him put on an act. She could have torn the mask away with a single sentence, but she did not. "I was busy this afternoon. I didn't check my messages."
Hearing that, Bryson seemed to let out a sigh of relief, as though he believed the danger had passed.
He knelt on one knee so he could meet her at eye level and said in a seemingly concerned tone, "It's cold today. You went out dressed so lightly. I am worried that you will catch a cold."
As he spoke, he lifted a hand and gestured to a nearby attendant. A blanket was brought over at once. He took it carefully and wrapped it around her shoulders. To anyone watching, the gesture looked caring.
Helena remained still. She watched his actions quietly, her expression unreadable, then slowly let her gaze drift past him to Charlee.
For a brief second, Charlee looked caught off guard. Then, just as quickly, a bright smile spread across her features as she greeted Helena, saying, "Helena, what a coincidence."
Without waiting for Helena's reply, she then sat down in the seat one over from Helena, settling herself as though she belonged there.
Bryson tucked a strand of hair behind Helena's ear and leaned in to say, "Charlee has secured several major projects for the company recently. I promised her a gift as a reward, and it is her birthday soon."
He let the words hang for a moment, as if they were supposed to explain everything. "Helena, you're not upset about this, are you?"
Before Helena could answer, Charlee interjected, "Helena, if you don't want me here, I can leave."
Helena's face showed nothing at all. Not even a flicker of anger or hurt. Instead, she replied indifferently, "Why would I not want you to be here? Bryson's your brother-in-law. Consider it a birthday gift from both of us as a couple."
Even though their marriage was fake, she was still Bryson's wife in the eyes of the public.
Charlee remained the mistress.
When the auction began, Bryson quickly placed the first bids. One after another, he won several jewelry sets, each one for Helena.
Charlee, however, seemed unable to contain herself any longer. She slipped her hand closer and hooked her pinky finger around Bryson's in secret.
Bryson's expression remained unchanged, but beneath the chair, his finger tightened around hers.
Helena saw it all, and something about it struck her as almost laughable.
Before the Jones family's decline, she and Charlee had been known in Daxwell's elite circles as the accomplished and beautiful siblings. People spoke their names with admiration. Wherever they appeared, heads turned. Even after their family's downfall, that attention never really disappeared.
So, how could Bryson sit there, so self-assured, thinking he could keep one as his wife and the other as his mistress? He really thought he could have everything, didn't he?
Helena had no obsession with Bryson. He was not the center of her world, and he never had been. So, when this relationship finally began to threaten her emotions and her interests, she knew what should come next. It was time to sever her ties.
Just then, the auctioneer's voice rang out across the hall. "Next is the final lot of the evening—an emerald sculpture. The texture is exquisite, and the inclusions are lively. The opening bid is two million."
Helena snapped back to attention at once. Everything else faded into the background. At last, her target for the evening had finally appeared.
"Bidder number 20 offers 2.6 million. Any higher bids?"
Helena's gaze sharpened, and her fingers curled slightly. This was the moment she had been waiting for. Seeing that the bidding was about to conclude, she raised her paddle and said, "3.5 million!"
A piece like this was rare, but the people willing to spend freely on it were rarer. And Helena's offer stood far above the opening bid, high enough to make the room pause. Everyone could see she had come here for this sculpture. And in circles like these, there was an unspoken rule. When someone revealed such clear intent, others rarely interfered. No one wished to challenge Helena now. Just as expected, no other paddle rose.
"The lady with paddle number 7 bids 3.5 million. Any bids above that price?"
"3.5 million, going once! 3.5 million, going twice..."
The room held its breath. Just as Leo, the auctioneer, raised his gavel to finalize the sale, a gentle voice echoed in the air.
"3.51 million!"
