Chapter 2 – The auction

Giselle’s POV

“Wakie, wakie, babe.”

Ken’s voice slipped into my head, deep and familiar, but instead of the warmth I used to wake up wrapped in, it hit me like something sharp, jarring, that pulled me out of sleep too fast and left me disoriented in its wake.

My eyes opened slowly, heavy, and reluctant, and for a moment I just lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together how I even got back into the bedroom.

I couldn’t remember falling asleep, couldn’t remember walking in here, but I remembered everything else.

Every single detail from last night stood right in front of me, vivid and cruel, blocking any chance of me ever looking at Ken the same way again.

I turned my head, and there he was.

Standing there like nothing had happened, already dressed, composed, already playing the role he had perfected over the years.

At my side sat another bouquet of roses, larger than the one from yesterday, brighter, more extravagant, like he was trying harder, compensating for something he thought I didn’t know.

“Sorry about last night,” he said, his tone careful, measured in a way that immediately made my chest tighten. “But I made you breakfast.”

I pushed myself up slightly, and without thinking, my body moved away from him when he moved closer. The distance wasn’t intentional, not something I consciously decided to create, but it happened anyway, instinctive and immediate, like my body had already accepted a truth my heart was still struggling to process.

He noticed, and his brows drew together as he sat beside me, his eyes scanning my face with concern that would have fooled me so easily if I hadn’t already seen what I saw.

“You look pale,” he said softly, leaning closer as though he had every right to invade my space. “Are you sick?”

I stared at him for a long moment, taking in the ease with which he spoke, the natural concern in his voice, the way he made it all look so real that it almost felt like I was the one losing my mind.

But I wasn’t. “Ken,” I said, my voice quieter than I expected, but steady enough to hold. “Last night… was it really work?”

The question hung there, heavy and unavoidable, stretching the space between us into something suffocating.

He looked away briefly, almost unnoticeable, but I caught it, that flicker of guilt that betrayed him before he could cover it up.

Then he looked back at me, and just like that, it was gone, replaced by that same perfect smile he had used on me for years, the one that used to make me feel safe.

“Of course, babe,” he said smoothly, like the answer came without effort. “What else could it be?”

Something inside me twisted painfully.

“Are you like this because of last night?” he continued, his tone softening as he leaned in slightly. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. I had a surprise arranged, but I had to cancel because it was urgent.”

I didn’t respond immediately. I just looked at him, and what I felt wasn’t anger, not yet, but something colder, heavier.

More like disappointment. He straightened, adjusting his jacket like he had already smoothed things over, like the conversation had gone exactly how he expected it to.

“If you need anything, just call me,” he added. “And if you don’t feel well, don’t come to work. I’ll arrange for you to see a doctor.”

The company.

The place I had poured myself into, the place I helped build from nothing, the place that used to feel like a second home.

I used to love it there, loved what I did as a fragrance technician, loved the process, the creativity, the sense of purpose that came with it.

Now the thought of stepping into that building made something inside me recoil.

“Yeah,” I said finally, my voice flat, stripped of anything warm. “I’ll take the day off, but there’s no need for a doctor.”

What I didn’t say was that I had no intention of returning anytime soon, not while I was preparing to dismantle the life we had built together piece by piece.

He studied me for a moment longer, like he was trying to figure out what had changed, but whatever he was looking for, he either didn’t find it or chose to ignore it.

Then he left.

The moment the door closed behind him, something in me snapped into motion.

I got out of bed and headed upstairs, my movements quick, almost frantic as I pulled out suitcases and started packing. Clothes, shoes, anything that belonged to me went into those bags, my hands moving faster than my thoughts, like I needed to get out before I lost the nerve to do it.

My phone rang, cutting through the silence.

I glanced at the screen.

Jack. Ken’s assistant. For a second, I considered ignoring it, because the last thing I wanted was to deal with anything that had even the slightest connection to Ken, but my finger moved anyway, sliding across the screen before I could stop myself.

“Gigi,” Jack’s voice came through, tense and slightly breathless.

“What’s the problem, Jack?” I asked, unable to keep the irritation out of my tone.

“That heirloom you’ve been keeping your eye on…”

I stilled completely. “…yeah?” I pressed when he hesitated. My grip tightened around the phone as memories flooded in, sharp and painful.

My mother’s belongings were never just objects to me. They were pieces of her life that disappeared too soon.

After she died, everything fell apart, and my family went from respected to struggling in what felt like the blink of an eye. We had no choice but to sell off almost everything we owned, including her jewelry, and ever since then, I had been quietly trying to track them down, holding onto the hope that one day I could reclaim them.

This particular piece mattered more than most.

It wasn’t the most expensive, not even close, but it carried something deeper, something irreplaceable.

It had been passed down from my grandmother to my mother, meant to be given to someone she truly loved.

Ken had once promised to help me recover all of them, back when his promises still meant something.

“It just showed up at an auction,” Jack continued. “And Mr. Macmillan already went to bid for it. I think he wants to give it to you as a surprise.”

My heart thumped hard against my chest.

For a brief, dangerous moment, something inside me softened, because this was something that mattered to me in a way very few things did, and the thought that he remembered, and cared enough to go after it, almost felt like proof of something, but it wasn’t enough. Not after what I knew. “Thanks, Jack,” I said quietly. “I’ll handle it.”

I ended the call, staring at my phone for a moment before exhaling slowly.

I needed to be there.

That decision settled in me with a kind of clarity I hadn’t felt since last night.

Instead of calling the chauffeur, I grabbed my keys and drove myself, my mind racing the entire way, my emotions tangled in a mess I couldn’t sort through.

By the time I arrived, people were already gathering, dressed elegantly, moving in quiet clusters that spoke of wealth and status.

And then I saw him.

Ken.

Standing among them like he belonged exactly where he was, but he wasn’t alone.

Annie stood beside him, close enough to make something ugly twist in my chest.

Too close.

I bit down on my lower lip, hard enough to taste blood, forcing myself to stay composed, to react in a way that would give anything away.

I tried to walk past them, but of course, he saw me.

He immediately stepped away from Annie and came toward me, that familiar worried expression settling onto his face like it had been waiting there all along.

“You’re not well,” he said, looking me over. “What are you doing here?”

I let out a quiet, humorless breath. “I should be asking you the same thing.”

Before he could respond, Annie walked over, her posture perfect, her tone polite in a way that felt almost calculated.

“Mrs. Macmillan,” she said, her lips curving slightly. “What brings you here? Sir mentioned you weren’t feeling well. It must be nice, being the CEO’s wife, not having to send a notice to take a day off.”

I turned to her slowly, letting a faint, sharp smile form on my lips. “I see,” I said. “And from what I understand, a secretary should be at the office, yet here you are at an auction with your boss.”

Ken stiffened beside me, tension creeping into his posture. “It’s my fault,” he started quickly. “I—”

“The bidding starts now. Everyone, please take your seats.” The MC’s voice cut cleanly through the moment.

I moved to pick up a paddle, but Ken stayed close, hovering in a way that felt suffocating, like he was trying too hard to appear attentive.

Behind us, Annie’s expression darkened. She reached for his hand instinctively. “Sir, our seat is there,” she said, pointing two rows behind.

He pulled away from her without hesitation. Then he wrapped his arm around me instead. “You take the seat,” he told her. “I’ll sit with my wife.”

I almost laughed at how perfect he made it look. If this had been before, it would have meant everything to me.

Now it felt like nothing more than a performance.

I spotted an empty seat and moved toward it, sitting down beside a man I didn’t even bother to acknowledge, but Ken followed immediately, driving the man away without a second thought before taking the seat himself.

Possessive, as always. If only I didn’t know what I knew now. Annie ended up sitting behind us, and as much as I wanted to ignore her presence, I couldn’t.

And I saw it. The way her leg extended forward under the table, brushing against Ken’s.

Slow, intentional, and he didn’t move, didn’t stop her, didn’t react at all.

My stomach twisted.

The auction began, item after item passing by without holding my attention, until finally, the one thing that mattered appeared.

“A fifteenth-century jade pendant,” the auctioneer announced. “Starting price, ten thousand dollars.”

My heart jumped. That was it. “Ten thousand one hundred,” I said immediately, lifting my paddle without hesitation.

“Ten thousand five hundred,” someone countered.

“Eleven thousand,” I responded, my voice firm.

The bids climbed steadily, the numbers rising as different voices joined in.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

I glanced at Ken, something uneasy settling in my chest as doubt crept in. Was he really here because of me or had I just wanted to believe that?

Maybe Jack was wrong. Maybe this had nothing to do with me at all, and somehow, that thought hurt even more than everything else.

“Sixteen thousand,” I said, pushing the number higher.

And then, “Twenty thousand.” The voice came from behind me.

Too familiar. My entire body went still as the realization settled in, cold and heavy, and slowly, I turned.