Chapter 2No Forgiveness, Only Payback

Even with incense burning, the faint, coppery smell of blood lingered in the living room.

Damian acted as if nothing had happened, patiently feeding me spoonfuls of nourishing porridge. I swallowed mechanically, a chilling coldness seeping into my bones.

Before, I might have convinced myself this was a twisted display of his all-consuming love for me. Now, it was just a pathetic, third-rate farce. He was a masterful actor, and his performance made me sick.

"You look beautiful today, baby," he said, his eyes crinkling. "Any special plans?"

I managed a smile. "There's an auction. I have a surprise for you."

As we were about to leave, his phone rang. A unique ringtone—two long tones, one short. A signal.

Before he could answer, I snatched the phone and ended the call. "I want your full attention today. Unless that was a call you couldn't miss?"

My gaze seemed to scorch him. He rubbed his nose, a nervous tic. "Just work. Of course, my wife is more important."

On the way, the phone rang several more times, the same coded ringtone growing more frantic with each call. I could see the irritation building on his face, his composure fraying at the edges.

Just as he looked ready to snap, we arrived.

I handed the phone back to him. "Go on. Answer it."

He snatched it eagerly, completely missing the icy glint in my eyes. But before he could dial, the doors to the auction hall swung open before us.

On the massive wrap-around screen, the image of a man and a woman locked in a passionate embrace assaulted his senses. The man's face was blurred, but the woman... her face was in perfect, high-definition focus.

The familiar, decadent sounds filled the room, and the color drained from Damian’s face.

I walked past him and took a seat in the front row. "Some kind soul sent this to me," I said, my voice carrying in the suddenly quiet hall. Ignoring his ashen face, I added mockingly, "Damian, darling, did you know your ex-wife was so... adventurous? She doesn't seem to be very picky."

A murmur went through the crowd. "That man's build... looks a bit like Mr. Thorne, doesn't it?" someone whispered.

"Don't be ridiculous," another shot back. "Everyone knows Ava Reed is the love of his life. His ex-wife is the monster who killed their baby. He hates her guts. He'd never touch a woman like that."

Reassured, the crowd grew bolder. A man hoping to curry favor with us snickered loudly, "I gotta say, though, the woman's got a hell of a body. Getting my blood pressure up just looking at her."

"I'd pay good money for a night with that," another voice boomed.

As the vulgar comments filled the air, Damian's face grew darker with every passing second. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, yet his voice was deceptively soft when he spoke to me. "Ava, please. Lana was with me once. This is humiliating for me, too. Take the video down. Whatever you're angry about, I'll deal with her later for you."

Deal with her? Like he did in the fitting room?

I smiled coldly. "Alright."

The screen went black. Damian had barely breathed a sigh of relief when his pupils dilated in horror.

From the ceiling, a giant golden cage was slowly lowered onto the stage.

Inside, bound hand and foot with tape across her mouth, was Lana Hill. She was huddled in a corner, trembling. Her revealing clothes showed off the scars on her body, which had been artfully covered by an intricate tattoo of a mountain landscape, the ink twisting over her skin. It was a sight that ignited a primal lust in every man in the room.

The hall erupted.

"A million! I'll pay a million for her, Miss Reed!"

"Five million! She's mine tonight!"

"Get in line! I'll pay whatever it takes!"

Amidst the roaring bids, I turned to Damian, my smile as sweet as poison. "Darling, the money from selling Lana can pay for my new wedding dress."

"Enough." Damian's facade finally shattered. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at me, his voice a raw, desperate roar. "Ava, stop this! Let her down right now! The man in that video… it was me!"