Chapter 69
A bolt of shock coursed through Vanessa Delacroix’s veins. Her face drained of color.
Seraphina Delmar stiffened beside her, her fingers tightening around her clutch.
“Mother!” Vanessa’s voice trembled. “What is this? You told me you sold it! Why is it here?”
“I did sell it!” Seraphina hissed under her breath, her eyes darting toward the auctioneer. “This makes no sense!”
Vanessa’s pulse hammered in her throat. “Sebastian is right there! How do you think he’ll react when he sees the necklace he gave me being auctioned off like some secondhand trinket? He’ll never forgive me!” Her vision blurred with unshed tears.
Seraphina gripped her wrist. “Calm down. There could be duplicates—”
“There aren’t! The auctioneer just confirmed it’s the exact piece Sebastian commissioned for me! Do you think he won’t recognize his own work?”
Panic clawed at Vanessa’s chest as she scrambled for an explanation. Meanwhile, Seraphina’s mind raced with darker suspicions.
Her gaze snapped toward the empty seat where Evelyn Sinclair had been sitting moments ago. A cold realization settled in her gut.
The Whitmore family owned several pawnshops—high-end ones that dealt in luxury items. Out of all the jewelry they could have donated, why this one?
Her lips curled into a sneer. That little witch.
Only Evelyn would know the significance of the “Crimson Heart.” Only she would be spiteful enough to orchestrate this humiliation.
Across the room, Sebastian Blackwood’s expression darkened into something lethal. His knuckles whitened around his glass, the ice clinking violently.
“Sebastian?” Damien Prescott frowned at his friend’s sudden tension. “What’s wrong?”
Sebastian didn’t answer. The “Crimson Heart” had been his labor of love—every detail, every gemstone handpicked, the design sketched in the dead of night. He had entrusted it to Vanessa as a symbol of his devotion.
And now it was being paraded before vultures.
“The Whitmore Holdings representatives have shared that this piece carries profound sentimental value—a token of love from a man to his beloved,” the auctioneer announced. “True affection cannot be priced. Thus, we begin the bidding with no reserve!”
Vanessa swayed in her seat, the room spinning.
The crowd buzzed with excitement, the energy eclipsing even the earlier frenzy over the antique rosewood chair.
Sebastian stood abruptly, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
“End it.”
Damien blinked. “What?”
“That necklace is mine.” The words were a growl, low and dangerous.
Damien’s jaw dropped.
Sebastian’s eyes swept the room—Nathan Whitmore’s seat was empty. So was Evelyn’s.
His blood boiled.
Was this her revenge?
Evelyn had set the stage perfectly. But she hadn’t stayed to watch the fallout.
And that infuriated him most of all.
