I’d been searching for three years, and I finally saw my mother’s heirloom at the auction house—a ruby ring. But no matter how much I bid, Vivian Carter, a college student my ex-husband Zachary Hart once sponsored, always outbid me by one dollar. Zachary’s voice was cold and determined: “She loves these sparkly things. Let her have it.” Left with no choice, I offered a price far above market value. That’s when Zachary stood up and said: “Additional auction item: Serena Blake’s sex tapes, 1024 gigabytes. One hundred thousand dollars per gigabyte.” My intimate videos, eyes glazed and unfocused, were brazenly displayed as auction items. Zachary wrapped his arm around Vivian’s waist, looking at me mockingly: “You like competing for things, don’t you? If you don’t want these videos falling into someone else’s hands, then pay up and compete.” Three years ago, my family went bankrupt. He paid a high price to take me from an underground auction. After we married, he was insatiable every night, tangled up with me. Until three months ago, when Vivian appeared at our house, everything changed. I sat in the last row of the auction hall, my fingers gripping the bidding paddle so hard they turned white. The auctioneer introduced the items. The first few were warm-ups that no one took seriously. Then that ruby ring was presented on a tray, glinting coldly under the lights. My heartbeat stuttered. That was my mother’s heirloom. It was also why I came here today. The year my mother died, my father went bankrupt. The ring and I were illegally auctioned off to pay his debts. I’d searched for three years, finally waiting for it to appear here. “Item number five, antique ruby ring. Starting bid: three hundred thousand dollars.” I raised my paddle, my voice flat: “Three hundred thousand dollars.” Immediately, a sickeningly sweet voice rang out. “Three hundred thousand and one dollars.” My ex-husband Zachary Hart walked in with Vivian on his arm. His gray suit was impeccably pressed, his fingertips resting on Vivian’s waist in a casual yet possessive gesture. Vivian leaned against his shoulder, smiling innocently. “Zachary, there are so many people here tonight.” “It’s fine. You’re the star.” She purred like a cat receiving a reward, pressing closer to him. Vivian looked over at me, smiling sweetly, but her eyes were mocking. “You like it too? But Zachary said this antique style… suits me better.” I turned my head to see her clinging to Zachary’s arm, red lips curved upward, eyes full of a victor’s arrogance. Zachary raised his eyes, fingers tapping the armrest lightly, his voice cold. “She loves these sparkly things. Let her have it.” The room erupted in quiet laughter. Everyone knew I was Zachary Hart’s ex-wife—a pathetic creature he’d grown tired of and discarded. Vivian tilted her head, smiling at me. I gripped the bidding paddle tighter, my knuckles turning white. Three years ago, Zachary had done the same thing—brought me home from an auction in front of everyone. That night, he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, biting my earlobe. “Serena Blake, you can’t escape anymore.” “Even though your family went bankrupt, I won’t let anyone bully you from now on.” Now he sat there, watching me get humiliated, without even a flicker in his eyes. She liked it, so I should just give it up? I gritted my teeth and raised my paddle: “Four hundred thousand dollars.” Vivian acted like this was a game: “Four hundred thousand and one dollars.” I bid again: “Five hundred thousand dollars.” She laughed, tilting her head coyly: “Zachary, am I being too mean?” Zachary ruffled her hair, his eyes sweeping over me coldly: “As long as you’re happy.” Vivian looked at me with her head tilted, smiling brightly. “Serena, Zachary said you have good taste—you just love picking up my leftovers, including men.” Whispers and snickers rippled through the crowd. “That’s her—Mr. Hart’s ex-wife!” “She was just a plaything Mr. Hart bought years ago. Three months ago, when Mr. Hart found someone else, he dumped her.” I stared at that ring, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. That was my mother’s heirloom. I couldn’t back down. I raised my number: “I’ll pay ten times the price.” The air went silent instantly. Zachary finally looked at me properly, his brow furrowing. Vivian’s expression shifted: “Serena Blake, are you insane? That broken ring is worth five million dollars?” I ignored her and walked straight to the verification desk. The auctioneer cleared his throat, struggling to maintain a smile. “Miss Blake has made the highest bid. Please proceed with account verification.” “Verification complete. Account balance: one hundred million dollars.” Zachary finally withdrew his contemptuous gaze, his brow furrowing slightly as he fixed his eyes on me. His suit knocked over a champagne glass as he moved, spilling wine across the floor. “Where did you get that money?” Zachary suddenly stood up, grabbing my wrist with enough force to almost crush bone. It reminded me of the night of our divorce. He’d gripped me the same way then, pressing the divorce papers onto the nightstand. I spoke flatly: “Mr. Hart, the alimony the court ordered three months ago. It was yours. Did you forget?” “I don’t like competing. But you two insisted on pushing me to this.” Vivian was practically jumping in frustration, about to say something, but I cut her off first. “Vivian, your taste isn’t that great either. I picked up your leftover man for three years. I feel sorry for myself.” I turned around, heels clicking, walking back to my seat step by step, my back straight. Laughter, gossip, and awkward silence wove together into a new tide. I didn’t look back. I’d gotten the ruby ring back. And my dignity too.
Zachary’s eyes turned completely cold. He raised his hand, signaling the auctioneer to pause. His voice exploded above my head. “Add one more item temporarily.” His voice was calm, but laced with poison. “Serena Blake’s private videos, 1024 gigabytes. One hundred thousand dollars per gigabyte.” The room fell deathly silent. Zachary looked at me, his gaze sharp, enunciating each word. “From age twenty to twenty-five. You like competing for things, don’t you? 1024 gigabytes. Take your time competing.” After saying this, he lightly brushed imaginary dust from his sleeve, as if swatting away an insignificant mosquito. My heart jolted, then went numb. The entire room erupted in shock and murmurs. The air filled with a mixture of perfume and desire. The clinking of glasses, men’s whispers, women’s laughter—it all wove together into a silent hunt. I was the prey. Vivian laughed softly, her eyes full of schadenfreude: “Oh my… so many videos! Serena, I wonder what they show. Will you cry while watching them?” I clutched my purse, knuckles white. The next second, the big screen lit up with blinding blue light. The footage was grainy. Twenty-year-old me wore a pristine white dress. Chasing after Zachary, pulling off the white dress until only my undergarments remained, voice choked with tears. “Zachary, can you please just look at me?” Amid the laughter filling the room, I heard the sound of my spine freezing inch by inch. Vivian’s soft laugh was like a serpent’s hiss. “Oh, you used to be… so slutty?” On screen, I was humble yet earnest. The room began to whisper. “That slutty? Chasing a man like that—so pathetic.” “She was still a socialite then, right? Where’s her dignity…” I bit down hard, staring at the big screen, my cheeks burning. “Stop.” I spoke, my voice so hoarse it barely made a sound. Zachary sat in the front row, posture lazy. He didn’t look at me, only said faintly: “You can bid for it.” “Why are you doing this to me? Just because I won that ruby ring?” Facing my question, Zachary turned his face away, silent. I gritted my teeth and spent one million dollars to buy it. The second video began playing. The burn scar on my wrist looked particularly gruesome in close-up. I got it when Zachary came home drunk one night and I spilled hot soup while cooking. He’d frowned while applying medicine, saying “You’re so clumsy.” His tone was dismissive, but I’d mistaken the faint glimmer in his eyes for concern. Another million dollars gone. The third segment was video from our honeymoon in the Maldives. I wore the bikini he’d chosen, too shy to lift my head. In the video, my earlobes were flushed red. Catcalls erupted throughout the room. Men whispered to each other, their eyes naked with lust. An older man from finance circles wolf-whistled. “Mr. Hart, such an obedient wife and you didn’t want her? What a waste.” Another chimed in: “That body, those eyes—bet she could steal your soul in bed, couldn’t she, Mr. Hart?” I stood there, dissected and served up as a joke. No one asked if I’d consented to those videos being recorded. No one cared that back then, my eyes held only one man—Zachary Hart. Men discussed me eagerly, as if appraising “a man’s trophy.” Women smiled falsely, silent, looking at me like I was the leading lady of a self-inflicted farce. I slowly raised my head, looking toward him sitting in the first row. Zachary said nothing, still leaning back in his chair, as if the person being humiliated on screen was a stranger. Segment after segment, like peeling skin, exposing my five years. Five years centered around Zachary Hart, living only for him. I bought back fifty videos for fifty million dollars.
Until the fifty-first segment. I wore a silk nightgown, drugged at a candlelit dinner, eyes unfocused. I hadn’t known he’d tampered with the wine that night. Zachary held me in his arms, eyes tender: “Let’s try a little couples’ game tonight, hmm?” I believed him. I always believed him. The last frame of the video. The strap of my silk nightgown slipped off, exposing a large expanse of bare shoulder and collarbone. In the final shot, the strap of my silk nightgown slid down. Eyes hazy, I looked like a drunk kitten, gazing at the camera without any guard up. Leaning against the doorframe, calling to him: “Zachary…” The screen cut to black. Click—Zachary’s lighter suddenly slipped from his hand and hit the floor. He stared at the screen, his eyes flickering. His Adam’s apple bobbed violently, his gaze dark and unreadable, but he quickly composed himself. “Beg me.” He suddenly spoke, his voice arrogant and disdainful. “I’ll take back these videos.” “Maybe I’ll even consider letting you be Mrs. Hart again.” I looked at myself on the big screen, helpless and at others’ mercy, and suddenly laughed. People really do laugh when they’re speechless. “Zachary Hart, I don’t love you anymore.” Vivian seized the opportunity to fan the flames. “Serena, don’t be stubborn. Everyone knows you love Zachary to death.” “Your account balance is at zero now. If you don’t have money, stop pretending. Why don’t you… beg Mr. Hart?” I just felt like someone had stuffed ice into my lungs, my heart hollowed out. Zachary’s voice dropped low. “It’s been three months since the divorce and you still haven’t learned? You won’t come back and beg me—are you waiting for me to coax you?” He was the one who wanted the divorce, and now he was the one telling me to come back and beg. Even if Vivian hadn’t appeared, there would have been a Lisa, a Jennifer… Zachary had never treated me as a lover. He just enjoyed the thrill of controlling me. “You really think too highly of yourself. Five years of loving you was enough. Now I just want to watch you fall from your pedestal.” His eyes turned cold: “Serena Blake, you brought this on yourself!” The screen continued playing. “Mr. Hart’s ex-wife collector’s edition—this kind of explosive material has high collectible value.” “Miss Blake looks so high and mighty, but when she gets frisky, she’s really something. Finally getting to the good part.” “Look at her moves—the straps were barely tied on purpose, right? She’d do anything to get into bed.” “Mr. Hart really knows how to play. Kept her hidden so well, then when he got tired of her, put her up for auction?” The laughter grew denser, more vulgar. Those men in suits and ties laughed while commenting on my body, their eyes full of naked excitement and superiority. The men’s laughter throughout the room was piercing. Their words slashed at my face like knives. The men watching couldn’t hold back anymore and started bidding. “Three hundred thousand dollars.” “Five hundred thousand dollars.” “One million dollars.” My whole body went cold. I hadn’t expected Zachary would go this far for Vivian. I don’t remember how I managed to stay standing. My hands gripped the edge of my purse so hard my knuckles turned white. I wouldn’t allow myself even a tremor. I told myself: don’t you dare hide. I raised my hand, flashing the card, golden light gleaming, and said slowly: “I’ll pay ten times the price.”
The auctioneer maintained a professional smile, but clearly no longer believed me. “Miss Blake, my apologies, but your verified total was one hundred million dollars. The ruby cost five million, the videos five million. Your account has no funds remaining.” A strange man laughed loudly: “Spend the night with me and I’ll buy them for you.” I ignored him, focusing my gaze on Zachary. Everyone looked toward him. After all, he was my ex-husband and the instigator of all this. “Why are you looking at me? Fair bidding. Highest bidder wins.” Just then, Vivian raised her hand: “I’ll buy this item for you. After all, it was Mr. Hart and I who sponsored you together initially. I don’t want you to be so embarrassed.” She lowered her head, biting her lower lip gently. That look was indeed pure and innocent. The room fell quiet for a moment, then exploded. “One’s a shameless ex-wife, the other’s a gentle, considerate mistress… any normal man would choose Vivian!” “So sensible, knows her place. Not like someone who, after being used up, still tries to bite back.” “Tsk, Vivian’s so pure. Not like Serena Blake—acts noble, acts like a victim, but so slutty in private!” “Don’t even start. After dozens of video segments, she should’ve just begged for mercy from the beginning. If Mr. Hart softened up, he might’ve let it go.” “Now look—disgraceful and dramatic. Lost all her dignity.” Their words, one by one, hammered into my bones like nails. I was the one who’d suggested Zachary sponsor Vivian, seeing her alone and pitiful. Zachary never cared about her one bit—I handled everything. After she graduated, I arranged for her to join the company. I never imagined she’d repay kindness with betrayal and wreck my marriage. I didn’t look at Vivian or acknowledge her false sympathy. I just lowered my head and answered that phone call. It was him. My only trump card, and what my mother left me. “Miss Blake, you’ve retrieved the ruby ring. The family trust has been unfrozen. Backup account funds have been deposited.” “I understand.” I stood up. The auctioneer instinctively asked: “Miss Blake, will you continue bidding?” I raised my eyes, voice steady and cold. “I’m requesting a second verification. This time, I’m buying out the entire venue.” The room went silent for three seconds, then erupted.
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