For a second, a shadow seemed to pass over Bryon's face.

Almost without thinking, he pulled his arm away from the woman clinging to it.

"Helena, you didn't reply to my messages. Did you come here to surprise me?" he asked.

Helena blinked. Surprise?

How cheeky of him to just assume she'd still be surprising him with anything.

Helena lifted her gaze to him and watched him put on an act. She could have torn the mask away with a single sentence, but she did not. "I was busy this afternoon. I didn't check my messages."

Hearing that, Bryson seemed to let out a sigh of relief, as though he believed the danger had passed.

He knelt on one knee so he could meet her at eye level and said in a seemingly concerned tone, "It's cold today. You went out dressed so lightly. I am worried that you will catch a cold."

As he spoke, he lifted a hand and gestured to a nearby attendant. A blanket was brought over at once. He took it carefully and wrapped it around her shoulders. To anyone watching, the gesture looked caring.

Helena remained still. She watched his actions quietly, her expression unreadable, then slowly let her gaze drift past him to Charlee.

For a brief second, Charlee looked caught off guard. Then, just as quickly, a bright smile spread across her features as she greeted Helena, saying, "Helena, what a coincidence."

Without waiting for Helena's reply, she then sat down in the seat one over from Helena, settling herself as though she belonged there.

Bryson tucked a strand of hair behind Helena's ear and leaned in to say, "Charlee has secured several major projects for the company recently. I promised her a gift as a reward, and it is her birthday soon."

He let the words hang for a moment, as if they were supposed to explain everything. "Helena, you're not upset about this, are you?"

Before Helena could answer, Charlee interjected, "Helena, if you don't want me here, I can leave."

Helena's face showed nothing at all. Not even a flicker of anger or hurt. Instead, she replied indifferently, "Why would I not want you to be here? Bryson's your brother-in-law. Consider it a birthday gift from both of us as a couple."

Even though their marriage was fake, she was still Bryson's wife in the eyes of the public.

Charlee remained the mistress.

When the auction began, Bryson quickly placed the first bids. One after another, he won several jewelry sets, each one for Helena.

Charlee, however, seemed unable to contain herself any longer. She slipped her hand closer and hooked her pinky finger around Bryson's in secret.

Bryson's expression remained unchanged, but beneath the chair, his finger tightened around hers.

Helena saw it all, and something about it struck her as almost laughable.

Before the Jones family's decline, she and Charlee had been known in Daxwell's elite circles as the accomplished and beautiful siblings. People spoke their names with admiration. Wherever they appeared, heads turned. Even after their family's downfall, that attention never really disappeared.

So, how could Bryson sit there, so self-assured, thinking he could keep one as his wife and the other as his mistress? He really thought he could have everything, didn't he?

Helena had no obsession with Bryson. He was not the center of her world, and he never had been. So, when this relationship finally began to threaten her emotions and her interests, she knew what should come next. It was time to sever her ties.

Just then, the auctioneer's voice rang out across the hall. "Next is the final lot of the evening—an emerald sculpture. The texture is exquisite, and the inclusions are lively. The opening bid is two million."

Helena snapped back to attention at once. Everything else faded into the background. At last, her target for the evening had finally appeared.

"Bidder number 20 offers 2.6 million. Any higher bids?"

Helena's gaze sharpened, and her fingers curled slightly. This was the moment she had been waiting for. Seeing that the bidding was about to conclude, she raised her paddle and said, "3.5 million!"

A piece like this was rare, but the people willing to spend freely on it were rarer. And Helena's offer stood far above the opening bid, high enough to make the room pause. Everyone could see she had come here for this sculpture. And in circles like these, there was an unspoken rule. When someone revealed such clear intent, others rarely interfered. No one wished to challenge Helena now. Just as expected, no other paddle rose.

"The lady with paddle number 7 bids 3.5 million. Any bids above that price?"

"3.5 million, going once! 3.5 million, going twice..."

The room held its breath. Just as Leo, the auctioneer, raised his gavel to finalize the sale, a gentle voice echoed in the air.

"3.51 million!"

Charlee leaned close to Bryson, her posture cautious as she whispered, "Is this the right way to hold the paddle?"

Helena's brow lifted with quiet challenge as she called out again, "Three million six hundred thousand."

"Three million six hundred and ten thousand," Charlee said without missing a beat.

The absurdity of the situation was impossible to ignore. No matter what Helena offered, Charlee always stepped neatly over it by exactly ten thousand, like she was doing it on purpose.

With a pleading look, Charlee turned to look at Helena as if she'd been deeply wronged. "Helena, I really need that emerald sculpture. You already have so many beautiful things. Could you please let me have this one? If the price gets any higher, I won't be able to afford it anymore."

Helena's lips curled in open amusement. "But isn't Bryson the one paying for it?"

Charlee's gaze dropped, and she pressed her teeth lightly against her lip. "He works so hard for what he earns. I don't want him spending too much on me. I want to save him some money."

How thoughtful. How perfectly innocent it sounded, as if she were doing Bryson a favor.

Round after round passed, until the auction price finally reached three million eight hundred thousand.

Something sharp and icy settled deeper in Helena's chest. She started to lift her paddle again, but Bryson moved faster, pushing her hand down to stop her.

"Helena, since Charlee says she truly needs it, just let her have it," he said.

Helena stared at him in disbelief. "What did you just say?"

"I already promised her a gift. This is the one she wants. Don't take it away from her," Bryson replied.

The moment he finished speaking, Helena felt something inside her drop straight into a frozen void.

Long before he ever married her, he had taken the time to dig through every detail of her past. He knew exactly what kind of history existed between her and Charlee.

Ever since childhood, the two of them had been unable to stand in the same space without tension twisting between them. The accident that killed her parents could easily be traced back to Charlee's indirect involvement.

She could hardly stand the sight of Charlee, and she was certain Bryson understood exactly what she felt about her.

Charlee would have never had the chance to set foot in this place if not for Bryson.

He was the reason Charlee dared to challenge her at all.

A bitter laugh slipped from Helena. "What if I refuse to give up on it?"

She lifted her paddle and called out, "Four million."

A heavy silence swept through the hall. All attention landed directly on them.

Noticing the tension, the auctioneer attempted to maintain order. "The lady with paddle number 7 bids four million. Any other offers?"

As the auctioneer repeated the question, Charlee's eyes brimmed with tears, as though she had suffered a terrible injustice. "Four million and ten thousand."

A chill settled into Helena's palm as she prepared to raise her paddle once more.

Suddenly, the manager of the auction house hurried over and spoke in a low, respectful tone. "Mrs. Davies, during our recent check, we discovered your account has been frozen. Is there another account you wish to use?"

That revelation struck Helena like a bolt of lightning.

She turned her gaze to Bryson, only to find him avoiding her gaze.

So he was behind this.

Ever since their wedding, their auction accounts had been connected, leaving him with the power to block her access at any moment.

All this trouble, just to make Charlee happy?

Charlee shot Helena a daring glance, the challenge clear in her eyes. "You've been spoiled with treasures since we were kids. Would it really hurt you to let me have this one thing without causing a scene?"

Did Helena truly believe she was still that meek woman she could so easily outmaneuver?

Now, they stood as equals. Their family's fortune was gone. And if Helena was free to fight for what she wanted, why couldn't she?

There was a time when every bit of their parents' affection was reserved for Helena. Now, with no one left to support Helena, she could finally take her on, fair and square.

All the things Helena had—her relationship, her social standing—she was determined to claim them someday.

With her account frozen, Helena couldn't bid for the item anymore.

Charlee's face gleamed with triumph as she called out, "Drop the gravel! Say the item is mine already!"

Just then, a voice came from a private box on the second floor. "Ten million."

The room paused in disbelief before bursting into chaos.

"Who was that? He raised the price so high!"

The auctioneer was excited that someone had offered such a high price for the item.

He asked if anyone was going to offer more. Then, when no one answered, he eventually announced that the mysterious bidder from the private box won.

Someone who could get a private box at the auction must be a person with unmatched power.

Helena turned her eyes to the upper floor. The private boxes kept their secrets well, but behind the velvet curtain, she could still spot the faint outline of a solitary figure.

There was something magnetic about that presence, a force that radiated authority.

Curiosity gnawed at Helena as she wondered who the mysterious bidder could possibly be.

As she finally let her fist relax, she saw the deep crescent marks left behind by her own nails.

She was torn between relief that Charlee had lost and a new wave of anxiety about how she would ever get that item back.

Still, the important thing was getting it back, and she was willing to go to any lengths to make sure of that.

She was ready to stand up, intending to approach the mysterious bidder herself, when the manager arrived, trailed by an attendant holding an elegant box.

All around her, people murmured in curiosity.

Smiling, the manager stepped closer to Helena, dipping his head politely before speaking.

"The gentleman who got the item asked that I hand you this emerald sculpture in person. He also wanted me to tell you this—keep chasing your dreams, and may you find success in all you do."

Noise exploded throughout the hall—a tangle of whispers, jealous glances, and stunned expressions swept over the crowd.

"Isn't she Mr. Davies' wife? Why is that man sending her a gift?"

"Who knows? Maybe that man is trying to get on Mr. Davies' good side by doing this."

"That is unlikely the case. Out of everything tonight, why choose this piece? I'm starting to think there's more going on between Mrs. Davies and the mysterious bidder than anyone wants to admit."

Every word reached Bryson's ears clearly.

A shadow fell over his face as he glared at Helena. "Helena, what is really going on between you and that person upstairs?" he asked.

Helena met his gaze with calm indifference. "I have no idea who he is."

"That's a lie!" Bryson shot to his feet in anger, grabbed her wrist, and squeezed until her skin went crimson.

Helena winced but couldn't break free. "What are you doing? Haven't you stirred up enough trouble already?"

Bryson barely seemed to hear her. His grip tightened as he pressed, his voice edged with desperation. "Tell me the truth. Who is that man to you? For all the years we've been married, I've given you everything you ever asked for. Nothing was too expensive. Why are you doing this to me now?"

All at once, Helena saw his game—turning the blame, pretending to be the perfect, selfless husband.

A cold smile spread across her face. "Why are you acting up like this? Do you feel guilty of something, and is that why you are so defensive?"

She shot a loaded glance at Charlee, who lingered at the edge of the chaos, enjoying the scene.

Bryson looked as if he had been struck, surprise and something close to panic flickering in his eyes.

"Helena, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant at all. I shouldn't have lost my temper over someone you don't even know. It was a mistake on my part." Emotion cracked Bryson's voice, and he looked away, struggling to steady himself. "There's nothing between Charlee and me. She's only here tonight because she helped me with work before. Please believe me."

He then shot a quick look toward Charlee.

At once, Charlee dropped her head and began to cry, her voice trembling through quiet sobs. "I really tried to keep my distance from Bryson. I never meant for you to misunderstand us..."

Before Charlee could keep going, Helena had already yanked her hand free, her expression showing only contempt.

Her words were cold as she said, "Whatever is going on between the two of you, it's no business of mine."

Then, she accepted the emerald sculpture from the attendant.

She sent a quick glance at the now-empty private box, then turned her back on the crowd and left without hesitation.

She still didn't know who that mysterious bidder was, but after everything was settled, she would make a point to find the person and thank him in person.

Outside, rain began to fall, the gusts of cold wind slicing through the air.

Stepping out of the building, Helena hugged her arms to herself against the sudden chill.

She started to reach for her phone to order a ride, but before she could do that, someone's hand gripped her shoulder from behind.

She turned and found Bryson struggling to catch his breath, Charlee trailing just a step behind. Her face clouded over instantly.

No matter where she went, these two refused to leave her alone.

Oblivious to the storm brewing in Helena's eyes, Bryson let his voice take on a pleading edge. "Helena, you know how much Charlee wants this sculpture. Would it be possible for you to let her have it?"

Charlee lingered behind him, her gaze sharp and gloating, every bit of her pleasure impossible to hide.

Desperate to sway Helena, Bryson rushed to add, "I'll buy you anything else you want. Just let Charlee have this."

Hearing that, Helena felt a cold pain twist inside her chest.

It was astonishing—Bryson could stand there, bargaining with her like this, yet conveniently forget how he had once promised to recover every piece of her father's lost items.

Without another word, Helena lifted her hand and struck him, the slap ringing out sharp and clear.

The sound drew gasps from the crowd nearby.

Charlee rushed over to defend Bryson, her voice thick with feigned concern. "How could you treat your husband like that?" she said to Helena.

Bryson turned his face, his expression dark.

Never in his wildest dreams had he thought Helena—always patient and gentle—would ever humiliate him in public like this.

Had she uncovered something he'd kept hidden?

Anger burned in him as his hand unconsciously tightened on her shoulder.

Helena felt the pressure growing, pain spreading through her arm. She scowled and readied herself to break free.

"What do you think you're doing?"

At that moment, a deep, commanding voice rang out, cutting through the scene.

Bryson was caught completely off guard by that, his bloodshot eyes darting up in surprise.

A man stood nearby, half-shrouded by shadows. His suit was crisp and black, his posture composed, almost regal. Cool detachment marked every line of his face as his gaze swept over the scene.

Only when the man moved closer did Bryson's grip loosen. The rage twisting his features slowly gave way to unease he could not hide.

"Callum? When did you return?"