My Billionaire Husband Faked His Downfall

I stood at the entrance of the auction house, lifting my gaze to the grand, lavishly decorated hall.

A sigh escaped me, unbidden.

In the past, when life was good, I was a regular here. I was one of the top-tier guests, the kind they'd serve water and pastries to the moment I sat down.

But times have changed. Now, I'm the one serving tea and water.

I didn't want this job, but the daily pay at the auction house was too tempting, as if a pile of cash was beckoning to me.

Weighed against the mounting costs, I took it. My husband, Lance Ford's illness demanded weekly therapy sessions, each costing hundreds, not to mention the monthly assortment of medications.

All in all, his medication alone cost us five to six hundred a month, and that didn't even cover the crushing debt.

Once, this kind of money would have barely bought me a handbag or a necklace. But now, every penny we spent was carefully calculated. Even when I shopped for groceries, I waited for discount days.

Before leaving for work, I sent him a message: "How are you feeling? Any better?"

He replied quickly, his words filled with guilt: "Same as before… I'm sorry for dragging you down."

I hurried to reassure him, typing back: "It's okay. We'll take our time, one day at a time."

After I sent the message, there was no further reply.

I hadn't told Lance that I was about to work as a hostess at the auction. After all, events like this drew their share of spoiled rich kids.

I had once seen it with my own eyes—a sweet, innocent girl who had been serving drinks beside me, whisked away by one of those heirs in the blink of an eye.

Lance's pride is fierce. If he knew I was taking this kind of job to pay for his treatment, he would be furious.

His condition was already fragile. I didn't want to push him any further.

Once I had changed into the uniform, I stepped into the auction hall.

People had already begun to fill the seats.

I must have taken too long to change. By the time I stepped out, most of the guests had already seated themselves, and the manager was clearly displeased as he directed me inside the venue.

The auction hall was enormous, arranged in tiers. From where I stood at the very back, I could hardly make out the items displayed on the stage.

The auction hadn't officially begun yet. Technicians were still adjusting the lights and testing the sound system.

The manager, his chin held high and a sneer on his lips, spoke with a condescending tone that barely concealed his contempt.

"Lucy, times have changed. You're no longer the wife of a CEO sitting high above the rest of us. If you want to keep working part-time here, don't act like you're still better than everyone else."

He pointed to the table where a set of teapots sat. "Now go and serve tea to the VIP guests in the front row."

I nodded obediently, picking up the heavy tray and making my way to the front.

I placed the empty teapot on the supply table, ready to refill it, when I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye.

My heart tightened, and I hurriedly set the pot down.

But when I looked again, the figure had vanished into the crowd.

I shook my head, feeling foolish.

How ridiculous. It couldn't be him. There was no way Lance could be here.

Today was his follow-up appointment, and even on a regular day, he would never set foot in a place like this.

*

Not long after I finished serving tea to the guests in the last row, the auction began.

I stood in the shadows at the back, watching the wealthy elites in the VIP section throw money around, bidding on one item after another.

The auctioneer's voice rang out from the stage, "And now, the final item of tonight's auction, the highlight of the evening."

He paused, and the large screen behind him lit up, displaying a full view of the item along with live photographs.

Standing at the back, I froze the moment I saw the rose gemstone necklace and its matching earrings on the screen.

In an instant, I recognized it. It was my grandmother's necklace.