"You..."

Before I could finish speaking, the door swung open, and the servant hurried in.

"Miss, Mr. Isaiah... he's vomited blood. He's in a bad state. You need to come quickly."

Serena’s face shifted instantly, her concern sharpening into something else. She rushed past me without a second glance. "If it weren’t for you, Isaiah wouldn’t have felt so guilty. He wouldn’t have collapsed like this. Come with me, now! You need to comfort him."

She grabbed my arm, dragging me through the hallway to the VIP ward, where I found Isaiah, his eyes bloodshot and his face twisted in guilt. He was on his knees, as if ready to beg for mercy.

"Serena, I swear, I never meant to hurt Anthony. I was just trying to dodge him—he was about to hit me, and I didn’t expect him to fall down the stairs. He’s saying I pushed him, but I didn’t."

My heart twisted as I locked eyes with him, and in that moment, I saw his satisfaction hidden behind the act. He feigned weakness, his voice shaking. "If Anthony still holds this against me, then I’ll kneel. I’ll apologize, I’ll do whatever it takes."

I met his gaze, my blood boiling, but I said nothing. Serena rushed forward, regret painted all over her face as she wrapped her arms around him. "It’s not your fault," she murmured, her voice filled with fake compassion.

Then, with surprising force, she grabbed me, dragging me to kneel before him. "This is all his fault," she spat, shoving my head down.

She grabbed Isaiah’s hand and slapped it across my face, the sting biting through my skin. The old wedding ring on his finger scraped against my cheek, leaving a raw mark.

"It's because of him that you're like this, Isaiah," she hissed. "Hit him back."

Isaiah feigned innocence, drawing his hand back. "Isn’t this a bit much?" he asked, pretending to hesitate. "But if you slap him, one slap will cost you a Maserati. If you keep hitting him until he bleeds, I’ll get you a villa."

"Really?" Serena’s eyes lit up.

"Really," Isaiah smirked, raising his hand to strike me.

I recoiled instinctively, but I wasn’t quick enough. His hand barely missed my face, and in the process, he almost threw out his back.

Serena’s expression darkened, her patience thinning. She turned to the bodyguard by the door and nodded, signaling him to move. Before I could react, a sharp pain exploded in my leg as it was kicked out from under me. I screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground.

"Now he can't dodge," Serena muttered, her voice cold. "Hit him. Do it."

The world around me blurred, my ears ringing with the sound of her orders. I was dizzy with pain, my vision swimming as I lay on the cold floor. Isaiah’s greedy smirk was the last thing I saw before my vision faded.

When I finally hit the ground, Serena pulled Isaiah's hand over and exhaled in fake sympathy. "Does your hand hurt, my dear?" she cooed. "I’ll blow on it for you."

He looked at me, his voice dripping with mockery. "What about Anthony?"

Serena's gaze turned to me, her eyes narrowing. "He doesn’t deserve it," she sneered. Then, with sudden determination, she walked toward me. "You want to leave me? Fine. I’ll give you a chance."

I wiped the sweat from my brow, heart pounding. "What do you want from me?"

Her laugh was low and unsettling. "Mr. Crisp, the famous man from Orlando, must be worth a lot of money, right? If you were put up for auction, you’d fetch quite a price, wouldn’t you?"

My blood ran cold. "You’re insane!"

She didn’t answer, instead gesturing for someone to bring a contract and tossing it in front of me. "Sign it," she ordered. "Sign the agreement to be an auction item."

I shook my head, refusing, despite the tightness in my chest. "I won’t sign it."

Serena’s lips curled into a cruel smile. "So you won’t? Then let’s see what happens."

With a wave of her hand, someone stumbled into the room, kneeling before me.

My eyes went wide with shock.

It was Ashlyn. The same Ashlyn who had given me her coat that night at the winery. The same Ashlyn who had been Serena’s best friend for years. The woman who had stood beside Serena at our wedding.

But now, she was unrecognizable. Covered in blood, her clothes tattered, she knelt before me, her head lowered in submission. She began to kowtow, begging for mercy.

"Are you out of your mind?" I gasped, staring at Serena. "She’s your best friend! How can you do this to her?"

Serena’s eyes glinted with malice, her expression cold. "What? Are you feeling sorry for her?" she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "Mr. Crisp from Orlando is truly something else—first, he seduces his stepsister, and now my best friend? She stood up for my husband, so I punished her."

Ashlyn collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face, and began kowtowing violently, each strike of her forehead against the floor echoing through the room. "Mr. Crisp," she begged, her voice choked with desperation, "I beg you, no matter what Serena says, you have to agree. My family’s gone bankrupt, and my parents are stuck at a construction site. If you don’t agree, Serena will have people pour cement on them and bury them alive... and she’ll sell me at the auction to those... those monsters."

Her words shattered me. "I can’t live without my parents," she sobbed, "I don’t want to be bought by those perverts. Please, Mr. Crisp, please help me."

The relentless sound of her forehead hitting the floor twisted something inside me. With shaking hands, I reached for the pen and, with a grim sense of inevitability, signed my name on the contract with the word "voluntary."

Serena’s smug satisfaction was palpable as she patted my head. "When you get on stage, make sure you work hard," she said, her voice sweet as poison. "Who knows? Maybe some blind rich woman will take a liking to you and support you."

I could barely hold back the tremor in my voice. "Serena, you will be punished for this."

She laughed, dark and cruel. "Punished? Only those who betray their own sincerity deserve punishment. Let’s wait and see who truly gets punished."

A man wearing a mask approached me, and before I could react, he injected something into my side.

The world around me went black.

When I regained consciousness, I was locked inside a glass display case, exposed and naked in the center of Serena’s VIP auction room. Her and Isaiah’s silhouettes were entangled on the sofa across from me, their shadows cast dark and oppressive.

As if sensing I had woken up, Isaiah casually threw a pair of soiled underwear in my face.

I removed it from my skin with numb, trembling hands.

"Serena," a voice called out from outside the room, filled with mockery. "I heard you’re auctioning off your husband. They say it’s going to be exciting."

"Lucky old women are already eyeing him," another voice chimed in. "They’re ready to light sky lanterns to snatch him away from you."

Serena sighed, stretching lazily in her chair, her voice dripping with arrogance. "Tell them not to worry. I’ll let him out every now and then for the others to have their fun."

Her words cut through the air, sharp and unrelenting. "He’s not just obedient like a dog—he’s more useful than a toy. They’ll be ecstatic when they get a taste of him."

Her heel slammed into the glass of the case, making me jump. "I’ll give you one last chance," she said, her tone icy. "Call your mistress and tell her you’re my dog for life. If you do, I might consider buying you for myself when I light the sky lantern for Isaiah."

I closed my eyes, my lips sealed, too broken to speak.

Serena growled in frustration, straddling Isaiah with a possessive twist. "I wonder how long you’ll stay stubborn," she sneered.

The auction started, and every item Isaiah showed interest in was quickly snatched up by Serena. He sat surrounded by piles of luxury items, unable to hide his glee, while her mood darkened with every passing bid.

Her gaze flicked to me, sharp and hungry.

The last item was announced: "The item provided by Orlando Jiang is called 'Love.'"

"I’ll bid five million," came the first bid.

"Ten million!"

"Fifty million!"

The price soared, and with each increase, Serena’s expression turned more sour. Her eyes never left me.

"Anthony," she hissed, "I’m giving you one last chance..."

"VIP No. 31 lights the sky lantern," the auctioneer called, interrupting her.

Serena’s face drained of color. She whipped her head toward the VIP room.