Chapter 4
Lucius ignored all the surrounding gazes, cutting straight through the crowd to sit at an empty table not far from Beatrice. He raised his paddle directly at the auctioneer.
"Thirty million dollars."
His voice carried clearly throughout the entire venue.
The other bidders froze, clearly stunned by the price. Jumping from eighteen million directly to thirty million wasn't an auction—it was a power move.
The wealthy women at neighboring tables were too shocked to speak, communicating only through frantic glances.
The auctioneer paused for two seconds before recovering, excitedly announcing, "Thirty million dollars! Mr. Jones bids thirty million! Any higher offers?"
No one in the room responded. The price was already excessive—who would play the fool and offend Lucius, who had just professed his feelings for Beatrice in the news?
Lucius's gaze burned with intensity as he stared directly at Beatrice, seemingly declaring ownership through his actions.
"Forty million dollars." Another bid came in from a buyer with close ties to the Stuart family.
"Fifty million dollars." Lucius raised his paddle again, adding another ten million dollars, his tone radiating arrogant determination.
The entire room erupted!
"He's lost his mind, he must have!"
"Fifty million for jewelry to impress a married woman? This isn't affection—he's trying to humiliate the Stuart family!"
The auctioneer's face flushed with excitement, his voice nearly breaking: "Fifty million dollars! Fifty million! Does anyone—"
"Sixty million dollars." The other buyer continued, also adding ten million.
Beatrice almost wondered if Frederick had orchestrated this, but quickly dismissed the thought as impossible.
The entire venue fell silent. Sixty million dollars—this price had far exceeded the jewelry set's actual value.
The auctioneer raised his hammer. "Sixty million once, sixty million twice..."
"One hundred million dollars." Lucius raised his paddle after briefly checking his phone.
The auctioneer's expression changed. Just as he was about to bring down the hammer, a message came through his earpiece. He immediately lowered it and cleared his throat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I've just received word that Mr. Stuart has claimed this jewelry set!"
"Claimed? How?" Someone asked in confusion.
The host explained excitedly, "It means, no matter how high the price offered by anyone present is, he'll outbid them!"
The entire venue instantly erupted. Everyone, including Lucius, turned to look at Beatrice.
Her face went pale. She never imagined Frederick would make such a move. This was the most dominant power play possible at an auction—a declaration that no matter what anyone bid, he was determined to win.
Lucius's face darkened. He gripped his paddle tightly, but ultimately lowered it. He didn't have the financial resources to compete with Frederick.
"Alright, the set now belongs to Mr. Stuart!" the auctioneer announced.
Applause broke out, but to Beatrice, it sounded particularly harsh. She stood up and hurriedly left the venue.
Behind her, the whispers followed:
"Mr. Stuart is clearly staking his claim."
"It's his wife's first jewelry design in the luxury circle, and he's willing to pay any price—talk about spoiling your wife."
"Clearly Mrs. Stuart holds a special place in Mr. Stuart's heart."
Beatrice walked to the terrace outside the venue. The cold wind whipped around her, making it difficult to breathe.
Why would Frederick do this? Was it because of last night, or because of Lucius's provocation? Regardless of the reason, she felt like she was being priced and auctioned off like merchandise.
"Bea." A familiar voice came from behind.
Beatrice turned to see Lucius standing at the terrace entrance and started to leave.
"Bea, I know you still have feelings for me," Lucius grabbed her wrist, ignoring her struggle this time. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have agreed to see me, would you?"
"Lucius, we ended things five years ago!" Beatrice wrenched herself free, leaving a red mark around her wrist.
Lucius gave a bitter smile. "If it was truly over, why would your husband make such a display bidding on jewelry you designed? What is he afraid of?"
"My husband isn't afraid." Beatrice's gaze settled calmly on Lucius, meeting the face that once made her heart race with only coldness and distance. "He's simply reclaiming what belongs to him."
What belonged to him—both the jewelry set designed by his wife, and Beatrice herself declaring that as his wife, she could never belong to another man.
Lucius's expression instantly darkened. He hadn't expected that his carefully crafted words, meant to wound her, would be met with such a casual yet unshakeable response.
She hadn't even gotten angry—she'd simply stated a fact, one that completely shut him out.
Fear crept in—fear that even if pushed to divorce, Beatrice wouldn't choose him. He wanted to say something to keep her there, but Beatrice turned and left without a second glance.
She didn't look back, leaving Lucius with only the resolute image of her retreating figure.
Liam was already waiting at the main entrance. "Mrs. Stuart, the car is ready."
Beatrice nodded and followed him through the VIP exit, away from the glamorous, chaotic ballroom.
Behind her, the gossip about her and Frederick still drifted faintly, but the narrative had completely shifted from "gold-digger" to "beloved wife"—how absurdly fickle the world was.
In the underground parking garage, a black Rolls-Royce waited silently in its reserved spot. Liam opened the door for her, and Beatrice bent to slide inside.
The interior was dim, with only scattered light from outside outlining Frederick's hard profile in the driver's seat.
He sat there, making no unnecessary movements, yet radiating intimidation.
His suit jacket lay casually beside him as he wore only a light green dress shirt with his tie slightly loosened, betraying a hint of irritation.
Light green was Beatrice's favorite color, full of vitality.
On anyone else, this color would only amplify facial flaws, but on Frederick, it made his skin more luminous, giving him the youthful appearance of an eighteen-year-old.
The door closed, and Beatrice's gaze involuntarily drifted to the elegant dark green velvet box containing the emerald snake jewelry set she had designed.
Frederick's peripheral vision, however, remained fixed on the red mark around Beatrice's wrist.
The car slowly pulled out of the parking garage and merged into the city traffic. Neon lights flashed across Frederick's face, alternating between brightness and shadow, making his already enigmatic features even more inscrutable.
Beatrice glanced at him several times, words forming on her lips only to be frozen by the icy atmosphere.
She wanted to explain, to tell him there was nothing between her and Lucius, but worried that in his eyes, any explanation would seem like guilty excuses, any questioning like unreasonable demands.
She also wanted to ask why he had done what he did tonight.
Was it to humiliate her, or Lucius? Or simply because he wouldn't allow anyone to covet what was his? But could she ask these questions? Between them was a transaction—what right did she have to question her benefactor?
Beatrice twisted her lips in self-mockery and turned to look out the window, pretending to admire the city's nightscape.
The car smoothly entered the Stuart Manor, passing through a long, tree-lined driveway before finally stopping at the main entrance.
The driver got out and respectfully opened Frederick's door.
Frederick exited but didn't immediately enter the house. Instead, he walked around to the other side and personally opened Beatrice's door.
He stood outside, his tall figure blocking the porch light. Sitting in the car, Beatrice couldn't make out his expression against the backlight.
"Get out," he said in a deep voice that revealed nothing of his mood.
Beatrice didn't move, just looked up at him. Today wasn't her scheduled monthly visit to the Stuart Manor—why had he brought her back tonight?