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—"

Crash!

The sound of a glass shattering on the floor cut off Wyatt before he could finish speaking.

Vera jolted like a startled rabbit, springing out of his arms.

"Rhea, you’re awake!" She rushed to the hospital bed, tears spilling instantly. "How do you feel? Does it still hurt? This is all my fault—"

Rhea tugged her pale lips into a cold smile. "With you being an eyesore here, how could I possibly get better?"

Vera’s tears fell harder. Her shoulders trembled as if she had been grievously wronged. She bit her lip, cast Wyatt one last look, then turned and ran out of the room.

Wyatt instinctively took a step after her, then forced himself to stop. He turned back to Rhea, his voice low. "Miss Vaughn, everything happened so fast that day. I did not have time to react—"

Rhea said nothing. She only turned her head and looked out the window. She did not want to hear it.

For three full days, Wyatt stood guard outside the hospital room like a model bodyguard. She did not say a single word to him. Not until the day she was discharged.

Rhea walked on her still-unhealed leg straight into the study. She pulled open a redwood drawer and took out a black leather whip, glossy and cold.

It was the Vaughns' inherited disciplinary tool. One strike was enough to split skin.

"Go get Wyatt," she told the housekeeper, Dorothy Kline.

When he entered the room, she was slowly wiping down the whip.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows beneath her lashes.

"Wyatt," she said calmly, lifting her eyes to him. "You are my bodyguard. You failed to protect your principal. I am punishing you. You shall have no objections."

As he stood where he was, his pupils tightened almost imperceptibly. Rhea saw it clearly.

Blackridge’s so-called crown prince had probably never imagined that someone would dare enforce household discipline on him.

After all, he was the Wren family’s only heir. People tripped over themselves to curry favor with him. Who would dare lay a finger on him?

Yet here she was, about to whip him.

Rhea studied his expression and suddenly laughed.

He was hesitating. He could turn around and walk away. He could resign, yet he was hesitating.

For Vera. To stay by her side. To keep getting closer to her.

Her eyes burned, the laughter almost spilling into tears.

Wyatt clenched his jaw. At last, he said quietly, "No objections."

At that moment, Rhea’s heart seized violently. She gripped the whip and raised her arm.

"Don't!"

A slender figure suddenly threw herself forward, blocking him completely.

Vera stood in front of Wyatt, tears filling her eyes, her voice shaking. "Rhea, if you want to hit someone, hit me. This has nothing to do with Wyatt!"

"Move." Rhea’s voice was ice-cold.

"I won't!" Vera shook her head, crying openly. "I'm the one who caused you to get hurt. If there must be punishment, punish me—"

Wyatt reached out, trying to pull her aside. "Vera, this has nothing to do with you."

She refused to move, stubbornly shielding him with her body.

Rhea watched the scene, fury surging up as she lashed out.

Crack!

The whip split the air with a shrill snap.

She had aimed for Wyatt, but Vera lunged forward instead, taking the strike for him.

"Ah—!" Vera cried out. Her slight frame swayed, then collapsed.

Wyatt caught her instantly, lowering his head to check her injuries. When he looked up again, Rhea met eyes colder than ice. There was killing intent in them, as if he might rush forward and snap her neck in the next second.

Her body went rigid, plunging into an icy abyss.

"Get out," she heard herself say, her voice trembling.

Wyatt picked up the unconscious Vera and turned away. The study door slammed behind him with a deafening crash.

Rhea stood there, realizing her hands were shaking so badly she could no longer hold the whip.