Chapter 3

Rita casually retrieved a few crisp dollar bills from her bag and slid them into the waiter's pocket with an effortless grace. Her smile was an intoxicating blend of mischief and allure. Before the startled waiter could react, she walked straight over and settled herself boldly into the seat beside Grayson.

A collective intake of breath rippled through the room. Whispers erupted like the quiet fizz of champagne bubbles, each voice charged with disbelief.

"Who does she think she is? Sitting beside Mr. Bryce like that?"

"Doesn't she know he could ruin her with a snap of his fingers?"

"Shh, you don't understand. Word is, she's backed by someone powerful. Have you seen the designer brands she flaunts during her live streams?"

As Wendy was about to shift her gaze away from the commotion, a gesture caught her eye—casual yet brazen. Rita took Grayson's hand and, without hesitation, guided it beneath the hem of her dress.

His hand froze, rigid as stone. Reflexively, he tried to pull away, but Rita's delicate fingers tightened around his, her smile deepening as she made a subtle movement.

For a moment, his hesitation flickered, then extinguished. He stayed still.

Wendy's breath hitched, her trembling fingers clenching tightly at her side. She turned her head abruptly, trying to anchor herself against the storm surging inside her chest.

The second half of the auction began, though Wendy hardly registered its progress. She floated through the proceedings, adrift in a haze of numbing detachment, until a sharp collective gasp yanked her back to the present.

Her eyes rose to meet the object of everyone's attention—a dazzling necklace displayed on velvet, its brilliance almost surreal.

The auctioneer's voice rose with fervor as he extolled its virtues, weaving an enchanting tale of its provenance. Rumored to be Queen Elizabeth's most cherished piece, the necklace symbolized steadfast, eternal love.

Noticing Wendy's faint flicker of interest, Grayson didn't hesitate. He raised his paddle. "One million."

A feminine voice, playful yet deliberate, immediately followed. "Three million."

Grayson's head snapped toward the source. Rita was raising her own paddle, her lips curved into a teasing smile, her gaze brimming with challenge. She leaned back leisurely, an image of effortless confidence. "Sorry, Mr. Bryce, but my boyfriend wants me to have this necklace too."

A shadow crossed Grayson's face, his jaw tightening. "Five million."

"Ten million."

"Fifteen million."

The auction climaxed in a dizzying crescendo until Grayson, exasperated, signaled to the auctioneer. The gavel fell, the auctioneer's voice reverberating with triumph. "Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Bryce has lit the lantern! Congratulations on securing the Heart of True Love!"

As the room erupted in applause, Grayson turned back to Wendy, his expression softening. He leaned in, planting a kiss on her. "Wait here, my love. I'll get the necklace for you."

Wendy watched his retreating figure, her eyes tracing every step until he disappeared from view. Rita rose as well, casting Wendy a glance that lingered—a mix of satisfaction and something suggestive.

When everyone had left, Wendy finally loosened the grip of her clenched hand. Her nails had dug deep into her flesh, drawing tiny beads of blood. But it was as though she didn't feel the pain. Without a hint of hesitation, she stood up and walked out.

Her phone screen glowed faintly, the notification still visible: [Underground parking lot.]

Perhaps it was because all the guests had left. The parking lot was empty, save for a lone vehicle stationed in the shadows, a sleek Maybach. From afar, she noticed a young driver standing nearby, his polite demeanor hiding a quiet vigilance. Any passerby who neared the car was quickly and discreetly turned away.

What no one seemed to notice was the faint rocking of the vehicle, the open back door exposing a scene that made Wendy's blood run cold.

The sound hit her first—a mix of feminine gasps and low masculine groans, each note threading into the heavy, humid air. Her legs buckled slightly, forcing her to lean against a pillar for support. Her eyes stayed fixed on the car, unwilling yet unable to look away.

Inside, Rita's figure was unmistakable, her body entwined with Grayson's, their movements raw and uninhibited. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her cries blending into the rhythm of their entanglement.

"Gentler, Master. The little bunny can't take any more…" Her voice was a broken whimper, pleading and delicate.

Grayson's response was a guttural growl, his hands gripping her hips with ferocity. "You wanted this. Now bear it." He thrust forward, his movements harsh, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.