365 Shots of Betrayal_My Boyfriend Auctioned Off My Private Photos

At the auction house, I picked out a diamond ring to be our wedding ring—mine and Brandon's. But no matter how high I raised my paddle, the girl Brandon sponsored always outbid me.

Brandon gave a helpless laugh, his tone light. "Honey, Maisy really loves shiny things. Let her have it, okay? We'll find another one."

I smiled coldly in return and retaliated by crushing her every bid. I kept mine open, no ceiling, no mercy, until I took everything she wanted. That day, Maisy ran out of the auction hall in tears.

Brandon only chuckled, kissing my forehead with that same resigned affection. "My little tigress... always so willful."

He didn't bother chasing after her. After we got married, he came to me every night, trying out a different position each time. He never gave me a break.

One day, an invitation arrived for a private auction.

And there it was—one of our most intimate moments. A photo of me beneath Brandon, eyes glassy with desire, plastered across a giant screen... as an auction item.

Brandon had his arm around Maisy's waist.

"Didn't you like outbidding people?" he asked smoothly. "There are three hundred sixty-five private photos here. If you don't want them falling into someone else's hands, you'd better start bidding—one by one."

——

I stood in the auction hall, frozen, while dozens of men around me chuckled and commented, eyes glued to the screen.

"This woman's hot, huh? I've seen everything in my day, but a photo like this? I'm hard already."

"Tsk. Who would've thought? Leia Graham—always so stuck-up—but in bed? Damn, she's better than a pro."

"Mr. Willis really scored. Took down a daughter of a distinguished family and ruined her properly."

One man winked at Brandon, who was seated at the head of the table like a king surveying his domain.

I clenched my fists, trembling as I turned to look at the man I once called my husband. Sitting beside him, in the seat that used to be mine, was Maisy.

Brandon didn't even try to hide it. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Whoever wins the photos gets the full recording of that night, too. Complimentary."

The crowd erupted in laughter and jeers.

"Mr. Willis, you're too generous!"

He glanced at me, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Don't give me that look. Like I said—you can always outbid them. Three hundred sixty-five photos. Go on."

"Mr. Willis, don't you know? The Graham family went bankrupt not long ago. Miss Graham doesn't have much left!"

"Each round costs five million. If she even has ten million liquid, that's probably all she's got."

Brandon arched an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Shame, really. Each of those three hundred sixty-five shots is a masterpiece. I'm tempted to snatch them all and study them properly," one man said, stroking his chin. "Too bad only Mr. Willis has the firepower to do that."

Brandon chuckled and lifted his hand casually. "Gentlemen, for today's auction, Willis Group will not be bidding on any of the items. All proceeds go to charity. Knock yourselves out."

The room burst into applause.

"Now that's a businessman!"

"Thank god Willis Group pressured Graham Holdings' partners to back out. Otherwise, we wouldn't even have these photos!"

"What's there to worry about? There are dozens of us here. If no one fights over them, we can each walk away with one."

"No way! That third photo? Too sexy. I have to win that one."

Only I remained still, trembling, as the noise around me swelled.

I turned to Brandon, my voice low and cracking. "Graham Holdings' collapse... that was you?"

He looked at me and smiled, saying nothing.

Tears welled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. My throat burned. "Why... just because I outbid her a year ago?"

He ignored my pain, picked up the mic and addressed the crowd. "Time's limited. If Miss Graham isn't bidding, I'll let everyone else begin."

The men all turned to look at me, smug grins and mockery in their eyes.

Each of them was a giant in the industry. Titans. The ten million I had left meant nothing to them—barely enough for one of their weekend getaways.