Chapter 304: Almost Ready to Drop Dead

Wearing a tailored, neon green pantsuit that clashed horribly with the mahogany walls of the auction house, was Lydia Laurent.

Lydia was clutching a numbered paddle, her chin tilted up in a desperate, strained display of haughty confidence. She had clearly rushed here straight from whatever rock she’d been hiding under, banking on her miraculously unfrozen accounts to swoop in and ruin Aria’s night.

A collective murmur buzzed through the room.

Damien’s golden eyes darkened into narrow slits. The annoyance of having his kiss interrupted was instantly eclipsed by the homicidal irritation of seeing Lydia Laurent breathing the same air as his wife.

His jaw locked, and his hand abandoned Aria’s waist, reaching for his own paddle resting on the armrest. He was prepared to drop a ten-million-dollar bid right on Lydia’s head just to crush her into fine dust.

Aria immediately slapped both of her hands flat against his solid chest, her fingers gripping the lapels of his tuxedo jacket.

"Don’t," Aria ordered, her voice a fierce, hushed whisper meant only for his ears. She aggressively shoved his chest back against the plush velvet armchair, forcing his arm down.

Damien frowned, his brow furrowing. "Aria, she is trying to—"

"I know exactly what she’s trying to do," Aria cut him off. "But you need to stay out of it. Do not lift that paddle, Damien."

Damien stared down at her fierce, unwavering expression. The protective instinct raging in his chest fought hard against his desire to obey her, but ultimately, he slowly lowered his hand, conceding to his wife.

"One and a half million to the lady in the green suit," the auctioneer repeated, pointing his gavel at Lydia. "Do we have one point six?"

Across the room, sitting in the middle rows, Zoe was actively experiencing a full-system malfunction.

Zoe stared at Lydia. She knew exactly who that woman was. She knew the years of abuse Aria had suffered at her hands. And she knew that if Lydia won this auction, Aria’s mother’s company would officially belong to the woman who had ruined her life.

Zoe completely forgot the strict one-million-dollar budget. She forgot she was in disguise. The fight-or-flight response kicked in, and Zoe chose violence.

Zoe threw her paddle so high into the air she nearly dislocated her own shoulder.

"THREE MILLION DOLLARS!" Zoe shrieked at the top of her lungs, her voice cracking as it echoed off the crystal chandeliers.

The entire auction hall literally gasped.

Businessmen swiveled in their seats. Socialites dropped their jaws. The audacity of the jump from 1.5 million to 3 million left the room in stunned silence.

In the VIP section, Aria stopped breathing.

Her hands froze on Damien’s lapels. ’Three million?!’ Aria internally screamed, her soul briefly detaching from her body.

But Aria was a professional. She didn’t flinch. She kept her posture flawless, her face an unbothered, serene mask of wealthy indifference.

"Three... three million dollars!" the auctioneer stammered, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Three million to the lady in the pink suit! Do we have three point one?"

He looked directly at Lydia.

Lydia’s face had drained of all color, turning a pasty, sickly shade of grey. She gripped her paddle so tightly her knuckles were white, but she didn’t raise her arm. She couldn’t. Her unfrozen accounts had barely given her enough liquidity to scrape together the 1.5 million. Three million was entirely out of her current tax bracket.

Lydia was tapped out. ℯℯ𝑙.

"Going once," the auctioneer called out into the silent room. "Going twice... Sold! For three million dollars!"

The gavel slammed down with a resounding CRACK.

Zoe slowly lowered her paddle. She looked down at her hands. She looked like she was about to throw up on her white Versace platforms. She had just committed irrefutable financial fraud in a room full of the wealthiest.

Aria released her grip on Damien’s jacket.

She stood up from the armchair, smoothing down the front of her dress. She turned and walked with slow grace down the center aisle, heading straight for the woman in the green suit.

Lydia watched her approach, forcing her shoulders back, desperately trying to salvage some scrap of dignity.

"Well," Lydia sneered as Aria stopped in front of her. Lydia offered a tight, ugly smirk, gesturing toward the back of the room where ’Tiffany’ was currently hyperventilating. "It seems we both lost, Aria. A complete stranger just bought your precious mother’s legacy right out from under you. What a shame."

Aria let out a soft, airy laugh.

"A stranger with significantly deeper pockets than yours, Lydia," Aria smiled sweetly, her emerald eyes glittering with uncut venom.

Aria slowly looked her stepmother up and down, from the outdated cut of her suit to the desperate, manic gleam in her eyes.

"Honestly, it was embarrassing watching you try to bid," Aria mocked, her voice carrying just enough for the surrounding rows to hear. "Even with your IRS accounts somehow unfrozen, you’re still scraping the bottom of the barrel. You are far too broke to be sitting at the big table, Lydia. You should stick to fighting over clearance racks. It suits you better."

Lydia’s mouth dropped open. A humiliated flush of crimson exploded across her cheeks. The wealthy investors seated nearby were openly snickering behind their auction booklets, their judgmental eyes carving her to shreds.

"You little bitch," Lydia hissed through her teeth, her hands shaking with impotent rage.

"Have a lovely evening," Aria dismissed her effortlessly, turning her back on the fuming woman and strutting back up the aisle.

She returned to the VIP section.

Damien was standing now, waiting for her. The brooding exhaustion he had carried into the room earlier was gone. He was watching her walk back to him.

As Aria stepped close to him, Damien didn’t hesitate. His hand reached out, wrapping firmly around her waist to pull her flush against his chest, intending to claim her mouth again.

But right before his lips could touch hers, Aria gently pushed his chest back.

Damien froze, blinking in surprise.

"Ah, ah," Aria scolded softly, stepping out of his hold.

"One kiss does not mean you’re off probation, Mr. Sinclair," Aria reminded him smoothly.