Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 40: Auction VI

"Please, can we all keep quiet... Mr. Noah wants to say something..."

Zane’s frown carved deeper lines into his face.

He watched—appalled, irritated—as the caller meekly handed over the microphone to the stranger who had already bewitched the entire room simply by existing.

The man had barely spoken, yet he held every pair of eyes, every fluttering fan, every greedy business shark in his palm.

Zane’s jaw ticked. Of course, this was how his night would go.

Then, he heard the rustle beside him, to the left—a ranking government official leaning forward in awe, whispering urgently into his phone:

"Bring the contract folder. No, immediately... yes, that one. Someone important is here."

Zane’s teeth gritted so hard a headache spiked behind his eyes. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

He had come here for contacts. For business. For rebuilding the bridges his father’s wickedness had burned.

Instead? He had laid the foundation for another man to stroll in and collect everything on a silver platter.

And that man was now standing on a podium, staring at Gianna like she was sunlight and salvation fused together.

Zane’s stomach lurched.

Why was this buffoon staring at her like that? With devotion? With a softness he recognized far too well?

His breath hitched involuntarily when he snapped his attention to Gianna.

She had a seemingly soft, shy smile on her lips.

Of course she did. Of course. She had gotten exactly what she wanted tonight—

A rich, stupid, overblown sentimental fool who would empty his bank account for her... and give her mother’s necklace right back.

The universe was laughing at him.

He clenched his fists and forced himself to sit still. Storming out now would only draw attention and start another string of rumors. So he endured—jaw tight, breathing uneven—as Noah lifted the mic to his lips.

The room hushed.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen..." His voice was deep, smooth, and irritatingly confident.

Zane rolled his eyes so hard he almost saw his brain.

The speech went on—gratitude, excitement, charity acknowledgements—and then:

"I know some of you may be wondering why I would spend a hundred million dollars... on a necklace."

A wave of curious murmurs.

Zane felt his nails dig into his palm.

"Simple," Noah continued, smiling softly. "The woman I love wanted it."

A collective gasp. A ripple of romantic sighs.

And just like that—every camera swung toward Gianna. A frozen Gianna.

Zane felt something inside him drop... violently.

Then Noah extended his hand. "I would like her to join me on stage."

Zane’s knuckles glowed white, gripping the armrest so hard he thought it might snap off. His mask of indifference cracked, as he watched Gianna slowly rise to her feet.

Gracefully. Elegantly. Too beautifully.

The silky gown clung to her curves with every step, catching light like it adored her. And with each sway of her hips, memories he had buried, drowned, stabbed, and entombed rose viciously from the grave...

Her body arching beneath him.

Her breathless moans.

Her velvet-soft lips tracing dangerous paths down his jaw.

Her fingers in his hair.

Her heat.

Her warmth.

Her whispered pleas.

Zane swallowed hard. His body reacted instantly, traitorously, humiliatingly.

"What the hell..." he muttered, fingers trembling as he clasped both hands together, willing the memories and desire to burn into ash.

He shouldn’t look. He couldn’t look. But he did.

He watched Noah slide the necklace around her neck—her mother’s necklace—and kiss the spot where the clasp rested.

Zane nearly doubled over.

Worse? Gianna smiled. She let the stranger hold her hand. Let him guide her down the podium. Let him lead her out.

No resistance. None.

Just like she hadn’t resisted him in bed.

A wave of heat and fury slammed through him so fast he shot to his feet. His date startled, clutching his sleeve.

"Zane... are you okay?"

He ignored her. Ignored everything except the moving crowd and that pair walking ahead—the stranger whose name gnawed at the edge of memory, and the woman whose existence tormented him.

He followed. He needed to know who Noah Newman was. Why that name tasted familiar. Why it scraped the back of his mind like an old warning.

Meanwhile, Gianna was drowning. Drowning while keeping up the fake smile that had been plastered on her lips since Noah got it into his head to declare his love to her.

Thoroughly overwhelmed by a sea of faces—businessmen, politicians, donors—one after another. All pretending they wanted to "admire the necklace," but every single one aiming for Noah Newman.

Her smile hurt. Her cheeks hurt. And all she could think was: A hundred million dollars.

She owed a man— a stranger—that much money. Where would she get it?

Athena’s family could help, maybe. KN Newspapers alone, which belonged to the twins, could even pull half the amount.

But to disturb them? Drag them into this chaos?

Her chest tightened.

It was all Zane’s fault. If he hadn’t kept bidding... If he hadn’t started that ridiculous war... She wouldn’t be stuck owing a hundred million to a knight in... whatever armor he wore.

Her head throbbed.

Another smiling face. Another congratulations. Another assumption about her "relationship" with Noah. Another compliment on her designs.

She wanted to run. To disappear. To hide in her home and breathe again.

She exhaled deeply when one person left—only for another to immediately replace them.

Her mind drifted again—to storage spaces, to rent prices, to the items locked up from her parents. Maybe she could ask old Mr. Thorne for a cottage on his estate...

She was so lost in thought she didn’t even notice her next visitor until she heard the voice.

Sickly sweet. Rotten honey.

"Oh, Mr. Noah Newman... I didn’t know my Gianna was dating such a handsome fellow..."

Gianna’s head snapped up. Her uncle. And beside him—Josephine. And Sabrina.

Sabrina, who was smiling at Noah like he was the second coming of Christ... tinted with jealousy so thick it reeked.

Her cousin would never change. Wasn’t Zane enough? Or had she run out of men to covet?

Instead of replying to Clement, Noah turned to her, brow raised. "Beauty, do you know them? They say they are your family."

Gianna wondered if her uncle heard the mockery, the razor-edge hidden in Noah’s voice. If he did, he pretended not to. So did the women.

"They are not," she said calmly, a sincere smile touching her lips when her uncle visibly flinched.

"Gianna, what is the meaning of that?" he barked.

She scoffed. "So many things. But let’s start with this—you sold my mother’s jewelry. You breached my privacy. You stole something that belonged to me, knowing exactly what it meant."

Her voice trembled with anger. "You are not family, Mr. Clement. I’ll be coming tomorrow to take everything else out. And pray you haven’t touched another thing or else—"

She left it hanging, because or else what? There was a limit to her strength. And the family lawyer was yet to be found.

"Or else you will have me to contend with." Noah completed with a smile that showed his white dentition, that enthralled Sabrina even further.