Chapter 3

The slap landed. The auction hall went dead silent for a solid few seconds.

Damon's head was turned to the side, his jaw locked tight.

Serena shrieked. "Eileen! You actually dared to hit Damon?! Security—take her to the underground interrogation room!"

Two guards rushed forward and grabbed my arms from both sides.

I struggled. "Let go of me! You have no right to detain me!"

Serena laughed coldly. "This is the Vesper family's auction house. Of course I have the right."

"I'm warning you," I said, my voice ice-cold. "Don't make me call Lucien to come down here—"

Damon cut me off with a raised hand. "Enough. Apologize, and you can leave."

I locked my eyes on him. "Damon, I'm walking out of here with that brooch today. Tell them to let go."

Damon's gaze swept over the guards' hands on my arms, his brow twitching slightly.

"Eileen, I don't want to make things difficult for you. But you disrupted the auction first, and then you impersonated a Moretti Donna. You need to apologize."

"Don't believe me? Go ask Lucien yourself." I didn't back down an inch. "Or are you scared?"

Damon's eyes darkened. "Are you really set on blowing this up?"

"Get this straight, Damon." My voice dropped too. "You're the one blowing this up."

Damon froze for a second, his thin lips pressing into a tight line.

"Fine. You want it your way?" He turned to his men. "Handle it by the book."

I stared at his cold, sharp profile, and something hollow settled in my chest.

Memories came biting at my heels like a rabid dog.

Five years ago, on Thanksgiving, he'd insisted on bringing me to his family's dinner.

He said I was his family.

I remembered holding his hand under the table, thinking that was forever.

And now Damon stood right in front of me.

But he felt like a stranger I'd imagined.

The guards dragged me all the way down to the basement. I screamed for help, but everyone just watched—cold, distant, unmoved.

No one lifted a finger. Just like five years ago.

The underground interrogation room was deeper than I expected. Stuffy, damp, with a flickering white light overhead.

I was shoved into a metal chair, my wrists cuffed to the armrests.

Before long, a man in a gray suit walked over.

"I've reviewed the situation. You disrupted the bidding under the pretense of being a Moretti Donna," he said, eyes fixed on me. "Then, after failing asset verification, you assaulted Don Vesper."

"I didn't fail verification," I shot back. "They refused to provide a neutral notary."

"That's your version. Anyone to back that up?"

I thought of the crowd upstairs—all those dead-eyed sheep—and let out a cold laugh. "You can check the surveillance footage."

The man paused, then burst out laughing. "Surveillance? In an underground auction? You want to leave evidence for the cops?"

My stomach dropped.

He slid a document across the table in front of me.

"Look, you disrupted the auction, but Don Vesper is merciful. Sign this, and you're free to go."

I glanced at the paper.

It read, clearly printed:

I admit that I am unable to pay the bidding amount, voluntarily forfeit the emerald brooch, and will issue a public apology to Damon.

I stared at the black letters and let out a short laugh.

"What if I don't sign?"

The man raised an eyebrow.

"Then you stay here until you change your mind."

The words barely left his mouth before a bucket of ice water slammed into my face.

The cold soaked through me in an instant. My teeth chattered, but I didn't lower my head.

"Miss Eileen, we don't tolerate rule-breakers here."

The man leaned in, his mouth close to my ear. "Don't be so stubborn. Your reputation's already ruined anyway."

My pupils contracted. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said." He handed me his phone. "Take a look."

The video of Serena humiliating me was already circulating on the dark web.

The headline burned—obscene and sickening.

[Crazy Woman Fakes Donna's Identity, Slapped in Public by the Real Donna]

The comments were nothing but curses.

They called me a desperate lunatic crawling back to Damon. A mentally unhinged freak.

"Let me go," I said, lifting my head to meet his cold stare. "I've already contacted Lucien. He'll be here any minute."

The man laughed like I'd just told the best joke of the year. He grabbed my face hard.

"Still running your mouth at this point?"

I bit down—hard—on the back of his hand.

He yelped and pulled back, then turned and grabbed a folding knife from the side.

The blade snapped out. The glint of steel sent a chill through my chest.

"I'm warning you—you can't afford—"

Before I could finish, he yanked my hair and forced my head down.

The cold blade pressed against my cheek.

My wrists were cuffed to the chair, my hair in his grip—I couldn't move an inch.

The tip traced slowly down my face. The icy touch made every muscle in my body lock tight.

I clenched my jaw and glared at him.

"If you touch me, the Moretti family will destroy you."

He sneered.

"Let's see if your so-called 'Don Moretti' can still recognize you once that pretty face of yours is carved up."

The blade was about to slice in—

Boom!

The interrogation room door burst open from the outside.

A tall figure stood in the doorway, backlit by the light.

My eyes burned red-hot in an instant. I couldn't help but call out:

"Lucien!"