Chapter 302: His Wife Has to Finish Eating First

"Zoe, look at me," Aria demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders. "We are out of time. I need you sober. Now."

"I am sober!" Zoe slurred, swaying against the slate-grey tiles. "I’m just... vibing. The vibes are vibing, Aria."

"The vibes are a disaster," Aria corrected, her emerald eyes narrowing.

She didn’t have twenty minutes to feed Zoe bread and water. She needed a hard, instant factory reset.

Aria grabbed Zoe’s left hand. She found the fleshy webbing between Zoe’s thumb and index finger—the He Gu acupressure point. It was a pressure point notoriously used to treat severe headaches and induce wakefulness, and if pressed hard enough, it hurt like a bitch.

"I am so sorry for this," Aria muttered.

"For wha—"

Aria clamped her thumb and index finger down onto the nerve cluster and squeezed with every ounce of strength she possessed.

Zoe’s eyes practically popped out of her skull.

"AAAAAHHH!" Zoe shrieked, her voice echoing off the men’s room urinals.

Her knees buckled from the sharp, blinding spike of pain, but Aria held her up by the wrist. The agonizing jolt of electricity shot straight up Zoe’s arm, flooding her entire nervous system with a dump of adrenaline.

The alcohol fog evaporated in a second, burned away by the shock of the pain.

Aria released her grip.

Zoe slumped against the wall, clutching her hand to her chest, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Her icy blue contacts were wide, completely focused, and lucid.

"What the fuck was that?!" Zoe panted, glaring at Aria. "Did you just try to detach my soul from my body?!"

"It’s Traditional Chinese Medicine," Aria said briskly, grabbing Zoe by the lapels of her pastel-pink Chanel jacket and hauling her upright. "It shocked your nervous system. You’re sober now."

"I’m in agony!"

"You’re awake," Aria corrected, dusting off Zoe’s shoulders and aggressively straightening her platinum blonde wig. "Now, listen to me very carefully. You are Tiffany Kensington. You are going to walk back out there, take your seat, and you are going to bid on Lot 42."

Zoe swallowed hard, the severity of the situation finally registering. "Right. Okay. Lot 42. Vale Entertainment."

"You have exactly one million dollars on that blue plastic card in your bag," Aria instructed, her voice dropping into a serious whisper. "Do not bid a single penny over one million. If you bid 1,000,001 dollars, Zoe, I will literally harvest and sell your kidneys on the black market to cover the difference. Do we understand each other?"

"One million. Keep my kidneys. Understood," Zoe nodded frantically, her blue eyes wide.

"Good." Aria peeked her head out of the men’s room door.

The hallway was mostly empty, save for a female waitress carrying a tray of empty champagne flutes back toward the kitchens.

"Excuse me! Hi!" Aria called out, slipping out of the bathroom and waving the waitress down.

The waitress stopped, looking surprised.

"My friend here had a little too much champagne," Aria smiled sweetly, slipping a crisp hundred-dollar bill from her clutch and pressing it directly into the waitress’s palm. "Could you be a lifesaver and escort her back to her seat in the main hall? I don’t want her tripping in those heels."

The waitress glanced at the hundred-dollar bill, her eyes lighting up. "Of course, ma’am! Right this way, miss."

Zoe shot Aria one last, terrified look before linking arms with the waitress and tottering down the hallway, perfectly playing the role of the slightly-tipsy heiress.

Aria let out a long exhale. She leaned against the wall for three seconds, composing herself. She turned on her heel and strutted back into the main auction hall.

The moment Aria stepped through the doors, she realized something was horribly wrong.

The fifteen-minute intermission was supposed to be over. The auctioneer was standing at the podium. The lots were displayed on the screens.

But the room was dead silent.

Nobody was speaking. Nobody was moving. The entire hall of wealthy snobs, socialites, and investors were sitting rigidly in their plush velvet chairs, staring straight ahead.

Aria frowned, her heels clicking softly against the carpet as she navigated the aisle toward the VIP section.

She slid into the armchair directly next to Damien.

Damien was sitting completely relaxed. He had one ankle crossed over his knee, looking devastatingly handsome and unbothered. Resting perfectly on the small, polished side table between their chairs was an exquisite, curated plate of high-end hors d’oeuvres—cucumber finger sandwiches, miniature fruit tarts, and fresh strawberries.

"You’re back," Damien noted, his golden eyes sweeping over her face. He picked up the small plate and offered it to her. "You must be hungry."

Aria was starving. The adrenaline crash from the taxing day was catching up to her, making her stomach rumble.

"I am," Aria admitted softly, taking the plate.

She picked up a delicate cucumber sandwich and took a bite. It was delicious.

She chewed happily, but as she looked up, she froze.

A man in the second row was glaring at her. A woman across the aisle was tapping her Cartier watch with an expression of profound, murderous impatience. In fact, every single person in her immediate line of sight was subtly, aggressively staring at her mouth. ℯℯ𝑙.

Aria paused mid-chew. She swallowed hard, leaning slightly toward her husband.

"Damien," Aria whispered out of the corner of her mouth, keeping her face perfectly poised. "Why is everyone looking at me like they want to execute me? Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened," Damien replied smoothly. He reached out, his thumb gently brushing a stray crumb from the corner of her lower lip. "They are just waiting for you to finish."

Aria blinked. "Finish what?"

"Your food," Damien said casually.

He leaned back in his chair, his voice a low, deeply satisfied rumble. "I instructed the event organizers to hold the commencement of the second half of the auction until my wife has eaten. I didn’t want you to miss the bidding because you were hungry."

Aria almost choked on the cucumber sandwich.

She brought a fist up to her chest, coughing into her napkin. Her emerald eyes blew wide with disbelief and shock.

She looked at the stage. The lead auctioneer was standing behind the podium, sweating profusely under the stage lights, holding his gavel and waiting for Aria to finish the plate.

"Are you insane?!" Aria hissed through her teeth, her face flushing a vibrant red under the weight of around three hundred furious glares. "Tell him to start!"

"Take your time, darling," Damien murmured, thoroughly enjoying the blush spreading across her cheeks. "The items aren’t going anywhere."

Aria didn’t take her time. She began aggressively shoving the food into her mouth like a competitive eater, practically swallowing a strawberry whole in a desperate bid to end the suffocating silence of the room.

Nobody dared to complain out loud. Nobody dared to tell the Demon King that this was ridiculous, that his wife was chewing too slowly. They just sat there, seething in their bespoke suits and designer dresses, forced to watch her inhale a fruit tart.

Aria swallowed the last bite, hastily wiping her mouth with the linen napkin.

She gave the auctioneer a frantic, tight nod.

"Right! Excellent!" the auctioneer gasped in relief, practically slamming his gavel down. "Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen! We will now commence with Lot 42!"

The massive screens above the stage lit up.

LOT 42: 50% Controlling Stake - Vale Entertainment.

Aria’s heart slammed against her ribs. The moment of truth.

"Bidding will commence at five hundred thousand dollars," the auctioneer announced.

Aria gripped the armrests of her chair. She needed to convince Damien not to bid. She needed him to drop his interest so Zoe could swoop in and take it. She only had a million dollars to play with, and Damien’s opening bid could effortlessly eclipse her entire net worth in a single breath.

"Damien," Aria whispered, leaning close to him, her voice light and casual. "Why did you make them move this to the main event?"

"I felt it was disrespectful to your family’s legacy to have it treated as an afterthought," Damien replied smoothly, his eyes fixed on the stage.

"That’s very sweet of you," Aria forced a smile, subtly trying to plant the seed of doubt. "But honestly, Damien, it’s a dead company. It’s totally worthless. The infrastructure is gutted, the PR is a disaster, and there’s no talent left. It would be a really, really horrible investment. You shouldn’t waste your money on it."

Damien finally turned his head to look at her.

His golden eyes were entirely unreadable. He didn’t take the bait.

He reached out, his long fingers gently tucking a stray lock of her rose-gold hair behind her ear. He let his knuckles trail softly down her jawline, his touch lingering affectionately on her skin.

"It’s just business, darling," Damien murmured, his voice a low, velvet purr.

Aria’s breath hitched.

Her heart was hammering violently in her chest, butterflies erupting in her stomach. He was really making it difficult for her to stay mad at him.

"R-Right," Aria stuttered out softly while her face burned with a furious blush. She was such a weak woman. No, it’s her hormones.

’I’m just very emotional right now,’ Aria told herself.