The moment Wyatt lifted his gaze, Rhea saw a depthless darkness in his eyes.

Perhaps it was because he had always been someone in power. Even after being caught like this, there was not the slightest ripple in his expression.

He calmly slid the photograph beneath the pillow. His long fingers moved unhurriedly as he adjusted the zipper.

In just a few seconds, he had returned to that ascetic, distant composure, as if the man who had lost control moments ago had been nothing more than an illusion.

Rhea could not help letting out a faint, cold laugh. "Putting it away before you are finished. Aren’t you afraid of holding it in? Want me to help you?"

Wyatt’s expression did not change. He leaned back slightly, widening the distance between them. "Miss Vaughn, did you need something?"

He was always like this. He could be stirred beyond restraint by Vera’s photograph, yet when facing her, he looked like a monk untouched by desire.

Rhea’s nails dug into her palm as she recalled Vera’s plain, watery face. Her figure was unremarkable, her looks nothing special, yet everyone still fell for that carefully cultivated innocence.

It did not matter. Rhea had beauty, money, and a body to match. From today onward, she would discard anyone who did not want her without regret.

"There’s an auction tomorrow. You’re coming with me." She turned and walked away after delivering the order in a cool and detached tone.

Wyatt frowned. "I remember taking two days off—"

"I heard Vera will be there too." She did not turn back.

There was a moment of silence behind her, followed by the man’s low reply. "Understood, Miss Vaughn."

Rhea’s heart felt as if a needle had pricked it.

As expected, the moment Vera was mentioned, every principle he had could be broken.

No worries. Soon enough, she would personally send him to Vera’s side.

The next morning, just as Rhea stepped out of the villa, she saw Wyatt already waiting by the car.

The black suit outlined his broad shoulders and narrow waist perfectly. The morning light traced a faint golden edge along his cold, sharp profile.

In the past, she would have deliberately teased him at moments like this. She would have pretended to twist an ankle and fall into his arms, or lean close to breathe softly by his ear.

Today, she got into the car expressionlessly, not sparing him even a glance.

Wyatt seemed surprised. He looked at her once more before quickly averting his gaze and sitting silently in the front passenger seat.

The car headed toward The Halcyon Grand, where the auction was to be held. Rhea stared out the window the entire way, no longer finding excuses to talk to him as she used to. The interior was so quiet that they could hear each other breathing.

The Halcyon Grand was the most prestigious hotel in the city center. Crystal chandeliers illuminated the hall like daylight. The air was filled with luxury and perfume, packed with elites and power players.

The moment Rhea entered, she saw Vera standing ahead.

Vera wore a white dress, her long black hair falling straight over her shoulders. She was chatting and laughing with a group of socialites, looking pure and harmless.

Wyatt’s gaze changed instantly. Although he still stood behind Rhea in the role of bodyguard, she could feel that his attention had already been completely drawn away.

"Rhea!" Vera spotted them and immediately trotted over, warmly linking arms with her. "What a coincidence. Are you here for the auction too?"

Rhea pulled her arm away coldly. "Don't touch me."

Vera’s eyes reddened at once. She looked at Wyatt with grievance. "Wyatt, I just wanted to be closer to my sister."

Wyatt’s brows knit together. The look he gave Rhea carried restrained disgust.

Vera seized the moment, tugging lightly at Wyatt’s sleeve. "Wyatt, I heard that when I had a fever last time and wanted fresh croissants, you went out in the middle of a rainstorm to buy them and brought them to the Vaughn house? I was really sick then, but now that I've recovered, I can tell you how grateful I am."

The coldness in Wyatt’s features softened instantly. "Miss Vera, you are too polite. I was passing by."

Passing by?

Rhea sneered inwardly.

He had disappeared for five hours that day and returned soaked from head to toe. That was his idea of passing by?

"Then let me treat you to a meal!" Vera said sweetly.

This time, Wyatt did not refuse. "Whatever you want."

"Then let’s invite Rhea too!" Vera turned to Rhea, then suddenly looked surprised. "Huh? Rhea, why do you look so worn out? I was the one who got sick—"

Rhea cut her off coldly. "We’re not close. Stay in your lane."

Vera’s face changed instantly. Wyatt’s frown deepened further.

At that moment, the auctioneer announced the start of the auction, finally breaking the awkward exchange.

Rhea did not bother engaging further and took her seat directly.

She was about to marry into the Ashfords. Expecting Victor to prepare a dowry for her was unrealistic. She would have to prepare these things herself. That was her true reason for attending this auction.

Once seated, the first item was presented. It was a pigeon-blood ruby necklace. Starting bid: one million.

Rhea raised her paddle without hesitation. "2 million."

To her surprise, Vera raised her own paddle. "3 million."

Rhea looked toward Vera. Vera smiled faintly at her. "Rhea, I like this one too. You won't mind letting me have it, right? After all, Dad seems to give you less allowance."

Rhea laughed coldly.

Less was an understatement. Since her childhood, Victor had given Vera a monthly stipend of $5 million. In contrast, Rhea received $500. If not for the inheritance her mother left behind, she might have starved long ago.

That was no longer the case. She now had $10 billion.

"4 million." Rhea raised her paddle again.

Vera was clearly stunned, yet still gritted her teeth and increased the bid. "4.5 million."

"5 million."

"5.5 million."

After several rounds, Vera’s face grew increasingly ugly. "Rhea, where did you get so much money? Aren’t you afraid you won't be able to pay?"

"10 million!" Rhea doubled the bid outright. She then looked at Vera with a mocking smile. "Why do I feel like you're the one who cannot afford it now?"

Vera’s face alternated between pale and flushed. Whispers began spreading among the surrounding guests.

The auctioneer asked politely, "Miss Vera, would you like to increase the bid?"

"Wait." Vera hurriedly pulled out her phone and messaged Victor.

Moments later, her expression worsened further. She had clearly been refused.

Seeing this, Rhea curved her lips. Of course, he would refuse. After handing over ten billion, where would he find extra money to save face for his precious Vera?

At that awkward moment, a well-dressed man suddenly appeared at the center of the venue and announced loudly, "I'll outbid them all!"

The entire hall erupted.

"Sir, are you saying…" the auctioneer asked in shock.

The man explained calmly, "I am Master Wren’s assistant. Master Wren instructed us to place an unlimited bid on any lot she selects."

The auction hall instantly exploded.

"Master Wren? The Wren family’s only heir? The famous crown prince of Blackridge?"

"Isn’t he known for keeping women at arm’s length? Why would he put in a blank check bid for Miss Vera?"

"Looks like Miss Vera is about to rise straight to the top…"

The murmurs rose and fell in waves.

Vera’s expression shifted from shock to delight to undisguised triumph.

"May I ask where Master Wren is?" she asked, her cheeks flushed. "Can I thank him in person?"

The assistant replied respectfully, "Master Wren is not available to appear at the moment. When the time comes, he will naturally meet you."

Only then did Vera turn to Rhea, her eyes brimming with victorious joy. "Rhea, are you still bidding?"

The next second, she added in an innocent tone, "Oh, I almost forgot. Master Wren put in a blank check bid for me. If you keep bidding, won’t you end up bankrupt? After all, in this circle… who could possibly be richer than Master Wren?"

Rhea’s expression changed sharply. She turned to look at Wyatt. He was gazing at Vera with unmistakable indulgence, his eyes filled with warmth.

What followed felt like a ridiculous idol drama. Anything Vera lingered on for even a second, the assistant immediately put a bid in.

The pigeon-blood ruby necklace.

A priceless antique porcelain tea set.

Even the Monet Water Lilies, with a starting price of $80 million.

All of it went into Vera’s hands.

Rhea suddenly stood up, unable to hold back any longer. "Does your master plan to leave nothing for anyone else?"

The assistant glanced cautiously at Wyatt, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"I’m sorry, Miss Vaughn," the assistant replied coldly. "These are all gifts from Master Wren to Miss Vera. His only wish is that Miss Vera enjoys today’s auction. Other people’s feelings are not within his considerations."

Rhea laughed. Her nails bit deeply into her palm. She looked at Wyatt, yet his gaze never once left Vera, who was basking in the spotlight.

'Wyatt, well done. Truly well done.'

After the auction ended, Vera was immediately surrounded by socialites and wealthy ladies, praised and fawned over like the center of the universe.

Rhea could not stand the hypocrisy any longer. She turned and left the venue briskly.

The moment she got into the car, she told the driver, "Nightfall Club." She needed alcohol to numb herself.

Before the door even closed, Vera squeezed in. "Rhea, are you going to a club? I’ve been so bored lately. Take me with you!"

Rhea was just about to kick her out when Wyatt quietly braced the car door and said to the driver, "Drive."

The entire ride, Vera excitedly chattered about the auction.

"Wyatt, why do you think Mr. Wren is so good to me? We’ve never even met!"

Wyatt’s voice was unbelievably gentle. "Because he likes you."

Vera’s eyes widened instantly, her cheeks flushing. "Wyatt, don’t joke like that!"

"We men understand each other best." He looked at her with burning intensity. "Where the money goes, the affection follows. Besides… you are so good. It wouldn’t be strange for him to fall for you."

"Then…" Vera asked suddenly, "Wyatt, do you like me too?"

Wyatt froze.

Just as he was about to speak, Rhea cut in coldly, "If you want to flirt, get out of my car. This is my vehicle."

Vera’s eyes reddened instantly. "I’m sorry for disturbing, Rhea. I won’t talk anymore."

Rhea ignored her and turned to look out the window. In the reflection of the glass, she clearly saw the way Wyatt looked at Vera—full of tenderness and pain.

When he looked at Rhea, his gaze was icy and filled with disgust.

She laughed at herself softly. It seemed all men only liked women who played innocent.

The club lights blurred into a haze as Rhea tipped back her head and downed her third glass of whiskey.

The alcohol scorched her throat, yet it could not extinguish the resentment burning in her chest.

At the center of the dance floor, she moved in slender heels, her red dress flaring with every turn. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Wyatt standing beside a private booth.

He was supposed to be her bodyguard. Instead, he stayed glued to Vera’s side.

She leaned in close, whispering something near his ear. Her lips nearly brushed his earlobe, and Wyatt, who was always ice-cold with Rhea, showed a faint flush at the tips of his ears.

Rhea let out a quiet, mocking laugh. As she turned away, a group of spoiled rich boys closed in around her.

"Care to drink with us, Miss Vaughn?"

"Let’s exchange contacts."

"I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time. Seeing you in person… your face really lives up to the rumors."

They crowded her into a corner until she could not move. Refusing them only drew more men in, until someone’s hand slid boldly onto her waist.

"Wyatt!" She finally snapped.

Only then did Wyatt seem to notice her predicament. Frowning, he strode over and shoved through the crowd. The muscles in his arms stood out beneath his black suit. One sharp look was all it took for the young men to retreat in embarrassment.

"Anyone watching would think you were her bodyguard," Rhea sneered, lifting a hand to wipe the spilled alcohol from her collarbone.

Wyatt lowered his gaze. "Sorry. I didn't notice it."

"Didn't notice it?" She suddenly leaned in, her red lips nearly brushing his jaw. "Or did you simply not want to?"

Her scent closed in on him without warning. His throat bobbed once as he took half a step back. "You've had too much to drink."

"Don't worry. Once I'm married off, you'll be able to protect Vera to your heart’s content—" Her words were swallowed by a sudden scream erupting from the stage.

Staff wheeled out a massive iron cage. Inside, two adult Tibetan mastiffs paced restlessly.

"Tonight’s special event!" the host shouted excitedly. "Black Whirlwind versus Crimson Blaze. Betting is now open!"

Rhea frowned. Nightfall Club often staged bloody fight-betting shows like this, and she had always hated them. She was about to leave when the iron cage let out a strained creak.

The lock loosened.

Everything happened in an instant.

The larger mastiff slammed into the cage door and burst free, lunging straight at the nearest crowd.

Amid the screams, Rhea saw Wyatt spin around without hesitation. Almost instinctively, he rushed to Vera, wrapping her tightly in his arms and shoving her toward the emergency exit.

Rhea stood frozen at the spot closest to the mastiff. She could clearly see the saliva clinging to its exposed fangs.

"Ah—"

The pain came without warning.

When the mastiff’s teeth pierced the muscle of her calf, she vaguely heard the sound of fabric and flesh tearing together. A chunk of meat was ripped away. Blood sprayed as she collapsed to the floor, watching helplessly as the beast lunged at her again.

Bang!

The gunshot rattled her eardrums. The mastiff dropped instantly.

The last thing she saw was Wyatt holding a gun, shielding Vera behind him, and the ceiling spinning as the lights went dark.

The smell of disinfectant assaulted her nostrils.

Rhea regained consciousness through the pain. The first thing she saw was a stark white ceiling. Her calf felt like it had been seared with a branding iron. Every breath tugged at the wound.

She turned her head with effort. What she saw at the hospital room door struck her half-awake mind like another blow.

Vera was buried in Wyatt’s arms, sobbing. "Wyatt, you are Rhea’s bodyguard. Why did you protect me instead? This is all my fault. I should never have come…"

His well-defined hand patted her back gently, his voice impossibly soft. "Miss Vera, you don't need to blame yourself.

"Even if it happened a hundred times over," he paused, brushing the tears from her cheek, "I would still choose to protect you first."

"Why?" Vera looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.

Wyatt met her gaze. Emotion darkened his deep-set features. "Because I—"