A week later, I was finally released from the hospital and went back home.

Lucas had hired a nanny and a professional postpartum caregiver. They were someone who supposedly specialized in looking after pregnant women and new mothers. But when I saw the caregiver, it turned out to be none other than Veronica.

I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. Veronica wasn’t here to help me, but she was here to monitor me. Clearly, she was afraid that I had run away with the baby.

Lucas even emptied out our master bedroom and gave it to Veronica.

“Pregnant women should stay in smaller rooms. It’s cozier and safer for both mother and child,” he said.

Then, he added smoothly, “The caregiver will need the big room to store all the baby items.”

I bit back the anger that was burning inside me and walked toward the narrow stairwell. Supporting my back, I lay on my side and let my tears fall silently. I had been foolish enough to believe our marriage still meant something.

That night, the baby reminded me it was time to eat. I got up slowly, pushed the door open and froze. On the second-floor landing, Lucas and Veronica were kissing, completely lost in each other.

Their voices echoed through the huge, quiet house. When they finally stopped, Veronica nipped playfully at his lip. Their shamelessness made me feel embarrassed for them.

I cleared my throat softly.

Lucas immediately pushed her away and said, “Go make a healthy dinner for the lady of the house.”

Veronica frowned, asking, “Why would I know how to cook?”

Lucas chuckled and tried to please her as he responded, “Just something simple, darling.”

After that, my husband quickly left as he claimed that had an urgent company meeting.

I sat down at the dining table, waiting for the so-called “nutritious meal” that Veronica was preparing. Five minutes later, she slammed a cup of instant noodles in front of me. The boiling water splashed on my hand, but I stayed quiet.

“Eat up, Ma’am. You’re pregnant, but I still have to wait on you?” she asked as she sneered, dropping her fake sweetness.

“Be grateful I gave you abalone-flavored noodles,” she added while rummaging in the fridge.

My heart ached, but I ate in silence. Meanwhile, Veronica feasted on my Greek yogurt salad bowl and Kobe beef steak that were meant for me. I gently rubbed my belly to calm the uneasy baby and secretly recorded everything with my phone.

After dinner, she ordered me to clean up. I washed her dishes, threw away the scraps and returned to my little corner by the stairs. My stomach felt heavier than ever, ao I could barely keep myself upright.

Once I confirmed that my phone had saved the recording, I finally allowed myself to close my eyes and rest.

Sometime past midnight, I woke to the sound of shouting downstairs.

“I told you I wanted imported macarons delivered within an hour! These taste like spoiled cream!”

“Only a dog would eat this garbage!” Veronica shouted angrily.

“Alright, alright, my lady. I’m sorry. Please go rest,” Lucas said, escorting her upstairs like a servant.

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on my door.

“I brought you a macaron from your favorite brand,” Lucas said gently.

The stairwell was so small that I only had to sit up to open the door. I looked down at the half-eaten macaron in my hand and felt nothing at all. It was clearly Veronica’s leftover, which was something she didn’t want.

Holding it up, I asked lightly as I pretended to wonder, “Honey, what’s this? Did the bakery have a rat problem?”

Lucas’s face went grim in an instant.

“There’s no rat, you pregnant women are just too paranoid!” he shouted impatiently.

The fact that he hid it broke my heart.

Lucas quickly slammed the door shut with a loud, echoing bang. The baby in my belly stirred uneasily, frightened by the noise. Normally, I would have thrown those macarons back at his face. This time, I chose to eat quietly for the baby’s sake as my baby needed the nutrients.

When both Lucas and Veronica were gone a few days later, I took my debit cards and slipped out of the house. As I was in my final month of pregnancy, I moved awkwardly to stop a cab. Then, I sat in the back seat of the cab like a waddling penguin.

The driver glanced at me through the mirror and said kindly, “Ma’am, please be careful. You’re carrying precious one now.”

I met his friendly smile and suddenly my nose tingled. It had been so long since anyone had spoken to me with genuine warmth. When we stopped, I closed the car door and gave him the address. It was a place I hadn’t visited in ages.

“Christie’s London Auction House, please.”

I wanted to prepare something valuable for my baby. A gift to secure his future. The driver looked surprised.

“That’s where the wealthy go, ma’am! There’s really an auction house there?”

I just smiled and gently stroked my belly without replying. The auction house wasn’t open to the public. Only people with assets over a hundred million pounds were invited. It was a secret circle for the elite.

When we arrived at the Christie’s London, I followed my memory and walked toward the entrance. But before I could go in, the security guard stopped me.

“Madam, you’re not allowed to enter.”

My chest tightened. I used to walk in and out of this place freely. However, Lucas had always been by my side back then.

I pulled out several Coutts World Silk Cards as I told him, “Oh, please. Just verify the funds!”

One guard accepted them with a polite bow, but when he checked, his face turned hard.

“How dare you try to fool us? Do you even know where you are?”

“If you weren’t pregnant, I’d have kicked you hard already!”

Both of them insulted me harshly, which hurt me.

“Isn’t there enough money in the accounts?” I asked, confused.

Those cards were made of pure platinum, custom-made for me by Lucas. Each one was supposed to hold more than enough. Yet, I had never used any of them before.

“This account is empty. Who are you trying to trick?” the guard who verified the funds asked coldly.

For a moment, I just stared at the card. When Lucas first gave it to me, I truly believed he loved me. Back then, I thought his feelings were sincere.

Now, I realized everything. The affection, the promises … all of them had been nothing but a show. What I once believed to be love was just his way of passing time. And I, in his world, was nothing but a fool performing for him.

Quietly, I took back the card as I lowered my gaze before turning to leave. But before I could take another step, I stumbled straight into someone’s arms.

“Excuse me,” I said quickly.

When I looked up, I saw surprise flicker across the man’s face but it then softened into recognition.

He held my wrist gently. Finally, he asked, “Are you … Yvette Bennet?”

His face was familiar. Suddenly, I remembered who the man was. This was my childhood friend, Andrew Marlowe. When he was six years old, his grandfather had taken him overseas. From then on, we had lost contact ever since.

“Excuse me,” I muttered, brushing off the dust from my clothes, trying to step aside.

I didn’t dare meet his eyes. I was pregnant, awkward and worn down. Meanwhile, Andrew stood tall in a tailored suit, confident and polished.

The security guard, seeing this, sneered as he commented, “Sir, this woman’s a nobody. She’s just pretending to be rich. We’re throwing her out.”

I lowered my head even more, like an ostrich hiding in the sand.

“How dare you talk like that! Do you even know who this lady is?” Andrew shouted angrily as he walked towards me.

The two guards could only look at Andrew fearfully before looking back at me. After that, they quickly lowered their heads.

“Mr. Marlowe! We’re sorry, Sir. We didn’t realize she was your guest!”

For the first time in a long while, someone stood between me and the cruelty of the world.

Without further ado, I picked a quiet corner and sat myself down while watched as the auction began. One by one, the treasures were displayed. From sapphire necklaces, famous paintings, to rare antiques. None of those interested me. I was waiting for something special.

At some point, I surely had dozed off because a flash of light startled me when I opened my eyes. Under the soft golden glow, a golden wrist watch sparkled beautifully.

“Starting price, fifty thousand,” the auctioneer announced.

I lifted my bidding board as I responded, “Sixty thousand.”

Almost immediately, another bidder called out, “Eighty thousand.”

The wristwatch was made for a man. It was finely made with its surface smooth and clear for a well-maintained 18th century wristwatch. It looked perfect. Something my baby could wear when he had grown up.

“One hundred fifty thousand,” I said calmly, raising my board again.

The room fell silent. No one else raised a bid.

“Sold!” the auctioneer declared, striking the hammer.

I took a steady breath and stayed seated, still hoping to find more things suitable for my child. Then, a large man suddenly rose from his seat.

He mockingly asked, “One hundred fifty thousand, you say? One hundred fifty thousand? I’ve been in business for years and never seen you before. Who are you … some mistress pretending to be rich?”

Andrew, who had been sitting beside me, looked ready to argue, but I stopped him with a gesture. There was no need to make a scene. For my baby’s sake, I had to stay calm.

A voice from the crowd shouted, “Verify her funds! Let’s see if she’s real!”

The auctioneer signaled for two staffs to come forward. Without hesitation, I handed them another card. This card held all the savings I had built up since I was young. It was money I had planned to give only to someone truly precious. And that person was my unborn child.

When the auctioneer announced the verified amount, which had billions in assets, the entire room went quiet. The event continued and I ended up buying a few more items. The Hutton-Mdivani necklace, a Van Ceef & Arpels Paris twisted hoop earrings and the Theseus Ring.

Finally, the auctioneer raised his voice as he shouted, “And now, our final piece!”

He continued, “This item may look simple, but it’s a true treasure.”

“It was ordered by King Louis XIV of France for his beloved great-grandson, King Louis XV of France. This was made by the finest jewellery in Paris at the time.”

The auctioneer lifted a small gold pendant. It glowed faintly under the lights. For something so old, it looked surprisingly well-preserved.

“This is the Jesus and Mother Mary’s pendant,” the auctioneer continued.

“It symbolizes the love and blessings for future generations.”

“Starting price, ten million.”

My heart leaped as I shouted, “Twenty million.”

“Fifty million!” another voice called.

I hesitated. Fifty million was already a lot for me. Before I could decide, the auctioneer raised his hammer.

“Sixty million!” I blurted out.

“Sixty million once!” he called.

I smiled faintly. It seemed no one else would compete. Then, a cold voice from the shadows broke the silence.

“Eighty-eight point eight million.”

I turned to look. In the dim corner, a man in a black suit sat quietly. I couldn’t see his face clearly.

“One hundred million,” Andrew said suddenly.

He winked at me and whispered, “A welcome gift for the baby.”

The whole room erupted in surprise.

But from that same dark corner, his voice rang out again.

“Two hundred million.”

Andrew opened his mouth to raise the price again, but I gently touched his arm to stop him. The auctioneer counted, “Two hundred million, going once, twice, three times … sold!”

The hammer fell as a hush spread across the hall. Everyone watched as the man in the black suit carefully picked up the pendant, walking away without a word. After the auction ended Andrew and I said our goodbyes outside the building.

But before I could take a step, a familiar Bentley pulled up. Lucas got out quickly with a grim face.

“Yvette, why are you out here with another man behind my back?”