Antonia tugged timidly at the hem of my dress.
"Amy, thank you so much for coming. I'll find a way to repay you someday, I promise."
I pulled my dress free, not bothering to hide my disgust.
"Save your repayment. You'll need it where you're going."
The color drained from Antonia's face, and her eyes turned red in an instant.
Maxwell saw it and immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her like she was made of glass.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Amy? This is an important event. Are you seriously going to cause a scene?"
"I'm not causing a scene. I'm stating facts."
I picked up a glass of champagne, swirling it lazily, and fixed him with a gaze cold enough to freeze steel.
"Maxwell, I'll ask you one last time. Are you sure you want to transfer those shares to her?"
He scoffed, his tone final. "I've already signed. Tonight, I'm announcing it in front of everyone."
"You'd better not try anything, or I swear I won't let it slide."
"Fine." I nodded, tipping the champagne back in one smooth swallow. "Wonderful."
"Since you're so eager to dig your own grave, I'll hand you the shovel."
Before long, the gala reached its main event.
The emcee delivered a stirring account of Maxwell and Isabel's story, painting Maxwell as the picture of undying devotion, a man whose love transcended death itself.
Then Maxwell wheeled Antonia onto the stage.
Thunderous applause erupted across the hall.
He took the microphone, his gaze sweeping the audience with practiced emotion.
"Thank you all for being here tonight."
"As many of you know, Isabel gave her life to save mine all those years ago."
"That is a debt I will carry for the rest of my days."
"Now her sister, Antonia, is battling a terminal illness. As the man who loved Isabel, it is both my responsibility and my duty to look after her."
"That is why I've decided to transfer thirty percent of my shares in Gilbert Group to Antonia, free of charge."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Thirty percent of Gilbert Group. That was billions of dollars in assets.
Maxwell paused, and his gaze shifted deliberately to where I was sitting.
"I'd also like to thank my wife, Amy Fox."
"She has agreed to undergo bone marrow matching for Antonia, offering her own body to extend Antonia's life."
Every spotlight in the room swung onto me at once.
Hundreds of eyes turned my way, some filled with admiration, others with pity.
Onstage, Maxwell extended his hand toward me, beckoning.
"Amy, come up here. Let everyone witness your generosity."
I set my glass down slowly. Under the weight of every stare in the room, I walked toward the stage, one measured step at a time.
Maxwell thought I'd caved. A smug, self-satisfied smile spread across his face.
But the moment I took the microphone from his hand, that smile froze solid.
I swept my gaze across the sea of guests, and when I spoke, my voice rang out clear and steady.
"Good evening, everyone."
"Mr. Gilbert just told you a very touching story. Truly moving."
"However, he seems to have forgotten one rather important detail."
I turned to face Maxwell, my eyes cutting into him like a blade.
"I never agreed to donate bone marrow."
"And as for Ms. Antonia Henson here, she doesn't have leukemia at all."
