Auctioned to My Ex for A Hundred Million

Clifford Mitchell abruptly reached out and clamped his hand around my chin. "Kyra Sullivan, do you really think you can fool me by finding some little mutt and having him get plastic surgery to look like me?"

I was forced to look up, meeting his sinister gaze. "You flatter yourself, Mr. Mitchell. I'd rather become a prostitute than give birth to your child!"

His pupils contracted, and the veins on the back of the hand that was gripping my chin bulged.

Five years ago, on his birthday, I'd clutched a pregnancy test, hoping to surprise him. Instead, what awaited me was news that Selene Graham had reported my father, Mason Sullivan, for sexually assaulting her.

Dad was sent to prison, while Clifford confronted me with footage from the hotel, demanding to know why I had betrayed him. He didn't believe me, nor would he believe that the child in my womb was his. Thus, no matter how difficult things became, I never dared to gamble Brooke's life on the chance that Clifford might still have a shred of conscience left.

"Don't hurt Kyra, Cliff." Selene's syrupy-sweet voice cooed from below the stage. Her eyes swept maliciously over my half-naked body. "She's been working in those kinds of places all these years. She's bound to have run into questionable men.

"Besides, if she was willing to sleep with someone for money back then, she's perfectly capable of grabbing some random kid and using him to make a false claim against you now. Have you forgotten what kind of scum her father was? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Clifford pushed my face away. Without any support, I collapsed onto the freezing display platform.

Brooke spread his thin, frail arms, standing in front of me. "Don't lay your hands on my mommy! You're all evil!"

He could barely stand on his own, yet he still stubbornly shielded me. My chest abruptly tightened, and I hurriedly reached out to pull him into my arms.

However, the very next second, Clifford raised his foot and kicked me away. Several security personnel rushed onto the stage and roughly seized Brooke by the arms.

"Let go of me! Let go of my mommy!" Brooke was frail to begin with. The blood instantly drained from his face from the rough handling.

"Unhand him!" As I clutched Clifford's pant leg, my voice trembled. "Clifford Mitchell, if you have a problem with me, come at me. Leave my son alone!"

Clifford looked down at me condescendingly before letting out a snort. "I'll let him go on one condition—strip until I'm satisfied."

The entire venue fell deathly silent.

Brooke was pinned to the ground by the security personnel as he wailed at the top of his lungs.

I knew I had no choice. If giving up my dignity meant I could save Brooke's life, so be it. All these years, I'd already trampled my pride into the dirt just to survive.

With trembling hands, I reached for the final button on my dress and undid it.

The rose tattooed across my chest was laid bare under the blinding spotlights. It was the tattoo I had gotten with Clifford on my 18th birthday. I had it inked over my chest, whereas he had his on his waist.

Back then, he was just an orphan Dad had picked up off the streets. He wasn't the untouchable elite.

Holding me in his arms, he had whispered in my ear, "No matter who I become, you'll always be the most important person in my life, Kyra."

Mocking whistles echoed from below the stage. Clifford's eyes were glued to the rose tattoo on my chest, and his expression darkened inch by inch.

The very next second, he abruptly raised his foot and kicked over the display stand beside him. The deafening crash stunned the entire venue.

He yanked off his suit jacket and hurled it against me. "Take her back to my villa!"

Brooke's anguished cries became increasingly frantic. My heart twisted in agony as I pleaded, "Give my son back to me, Clifford!"

…

He dragged me back to the familiar master bedroom, tossed me onto the bed, and pinned me down under his body. Yet he froze when he noticed the cigarette burn marring my tattoo.

I let out a derisive chuckle. "You actually desire a body that's been used by countless men like mine? Mr. Mitchell, you really are beyond saving."

Rage churned in his eyes. "Kyra, you're just as cheap as you were five years ago. You'll sell anything for money."

Those memories cut into my heart like blades.

Five years ago, I had desperately tried to prove my innocence, presenting all kinds of evidence to show that the person in the footage wasn't me, but he hadn't believed a single word I said.

This time, I couldn't be bothered to defend myself. "You're right. I love money."

He scowled and ordered his men to lock me in the basement.

As soon as the iron door slammed shut behind me, I demanded, "Where's my son? Where have you taken Brooke?"