My Coldhearted Husband'S Regret novel Chapter 111

111 High Stakes at the Auction

As expected, her paddle shot up immediately.

The woman in cream considered for a moment, then shook her head. The auctioneer’s hammer came down. “Sold to Ms. Dubois for eight million dollars!”

I shook my head. During our marriage, Damien had given me jewelry on appropriate occasions–birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas–but they were selected by his assistant. Beautiful pieces, certainly. Expensive, yes. But never chosen with personal consideration, and never presented with the warmth I now witnessed.

The room fell silent. Even at such elite auctions, bids rarely escalated so dramatically.

Damien remained stoic beside her, his hand now resting on her lower back.

Jorge barely hesitated. “Twenty–five million.”

“Twenty million,” she called, her voice less confident.

Vivienne’s expression tightened. “Ten million,” she countered quickly.

Vivienne’s smile faltered. She turned to Damien again, whispering urgently. Without hesitation, he nodded.

“Going twice…”

“Five million from Ms. Dubois,” the auctioneer acknowledged.

“Eight million,” called a deep voice from the right side of the room.

Gasps echoed through the room. The bid was wildly extravagant, even for a piece with royal provenance.

The room collectively held its breath. Whatever happened next would be talked about in elite circles for months to come.

“Eight million for a bracelet,” Chloe muttered beside me. “Did he ever spend that much

on you?”

Vivienne’s confidence wavered. She turned to Damien, her expression questioning. He leaned in, whispering something that made her nod and raise her paddle again.

111 High Stakes at the Auction

And I, his soon–to–be ex–wife, watched from the shadows, suddenly desperate to know what decision Damien Thorne would make in this unexpected test of wealth, pride, and devotion.

Chloe gripped my arm. “This is getting out of hand.”

“Fifteen million,” she announced, her voice carrying a hint of strain.

I turned to see a middle–aged man with silver–streaked hair. Jorge Robinson–a notorious collector known for his determination and deep pockets.

She was right. The bidding had transcended the object itself. This was now about power, prestige, and perhaps something deeper that I couldn’t quite name.

A flash of red caught my eye. Vivienne was whispering to Damien, her crimson–painted nails resting on his sleeve. He nodded slightly, and she raised her paddle.

The auctioneer’s voice cut through the tension. “Fifty million dollars from Mr. The auctioneer’s voice cut through the te

Robinson. Going once…”

The ballroom buzzed with excited whispers. I sat in my middle–row seat, watching the auction unfold with detached interest. After the first–edition book defeat, I’d been more observer than participant.

Paddles rose immediately. The wealthy saw not just jewelry but a piece of history connected to royalty. The price climbed rapidly to five million.

Damien’s expression was impossible to read. The entire room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his decision.

“Next item: a Cartier diamond bracelet from the private collection of Duchess Eleanor of Westbrook,” announced the auctioneer.

“Maybe… We should just forget it?” I heard her whisper, her voice carrying in the hushed room.

The pronouncement fell like a boulder in still water. Shocked murmurs spread through the crowd. Fifty million for a single vase–it was unprecedented.

Several other paddles rose. The vase was genuinely rare and beautiful. At seven million, most bidders dropped out.

I found myself leaning forward, unexpectedly invested in his response. Would he

111 High Stakes at the Auction

concede defeat? Or would his pride push him to continue this extravagant battle?

“Thirty million,” Vivienne announced, her voice steady but thin.

Vivienne’s composure cracked visibly. She turned to Damien, genuine uncertainty in her expression. Even from my distance, I could see her distress.

“The next item,” announced the auctioneer, “is a Ming dynasty celadon vase, circa 15th century. An exceptional example of imperial craftsmanship with perfect provenance. We’ll start the bidding at five million dollars.”

Except for one woman in a cream pantsuit who called, “Six point five million.”

The crowd was utterly silent now, collectively holding their breath. Such sums were staggering even in this room of billionaires and heirs.

Applause filled the room as Vivienne beamed triumphantly. Damien’s expression remained impassive, but he placed his hand over hers in a gesture that spoke volumes.

Jorge Robinson smiled slightly. “Twelve million.”

“Eight million,” Vivienne announced loudly.

Elara’s POV

The auctioneer could barely contain his excitement. “Forty million dollars, ladies and gentlemen! Do I hear more?”

Chloe nudged me. “This is getting interesting.”

The crowd quieted. The remaining bidders hesitated, evaluating whether the bracelet was worth pursuing further. One by one, they lowered their paddles.

Still, he nodded once more, his jaw set.

I watched Vivienne straighten in her seat. Her grandmother collected antique Chinese ceramics–a passion I’d learned about during one of the few family gat….ings I’d attended with her. This vase would be the crown jewel of any such collection.

Vivienne turned fully to Damien, their heads close together in urgent consultation. His expression remained unreadable, but I recognized the slight tightening around his eyes–a tell I’d learned during our years together. The price was pushing even his comfort zone.

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