Marjorie's entire body went rigid. Then every ounce of rage she'd been holding found its center, surging straight to the top of her skull until her scalp prickled and her vision blurred.

She didn't even stop to change out of her slippers. She tore out the front door, flagged down the first car she saw, and told the driver to take her to Christian's villa.

But when she arrived, the housekeeper told her Christian had already left with Bridget for an auction.

There was no time to catch her breath. She turned around and headed for the auction house.

On the way, Bridget's texts kept coming, one after another, each one more vicious than the last.

You love auctions, don't you? You were willing to auction yourself off just to win Christian back. So how about I put your mother's things on the block too?

Marjorie's fingers tightened around her phone until the case creaked. She stared at the words on the screen as if she could burn a hole straight through it.

She urged the driver to go faster. A second later, a truck barreled in from the right and slammed into the car, sending it skidding over forty feet.

The airbag deployed. The back of Marjorie's head cracked against the window, and the world tilted sideways, spinning.

Something warm slid down her face. Blood dripped onto her white dress, one drop at a time, blooming like dark, lurid flowers.

None of it mattered. She unbuckled her seatbelt, shoved the door open, and stumbled out, staggering toward the auction house.

The sight of her drew stares. Someone recognized her as the woman from the leaked affair video, and the whispers started, carried to her ears on the summer breeze.

"Isn't that the former Mrs. Sanchez? The one who cheated? She looks like she's lost it after getting dumped."

"She's probably gone crazy. How embarrassing..."

The gossip cut into her like a blade, slow and deliberate.

The auction house was only a few hundred yards away, but it felt like the longest distance she had ever walked in her life.

She made it through the doors just as the auctioneer was presenting her mother's bracelet. The bidding had already reached a hundred million dollars.

"Two hundred million!"

She screamed it with everything she had. Every head in the room turned toward her.

The auctioneer faltered, clearly not expecting a bracelet that looked so ordinary to command this kind of price. Even his voice wavered.

"Two hundred million, going once."

"Two hundred million, going twice."

"Two hundred million, going three times..."

The gavel was about to fall when a paddle shot up from the audience.

"Five hundred million!"

Marjorie's head snapped toward the voice.

Bridget sat there with one eyebrow raised, a thin smile on her lips. "I changed my mind. I want to buy it back. That's allowed, isn't it?"

Bridget was a college sophomore who couldn't even pay her own tuition without conning someone. There was no way she had that kind of money.

Marjorie's gaze shifted to the man beside her.

Christian had already seen her. He let go of Bridget's waist, rose from his seat, and walked toward Marjorie.

"Marge."

"Today's Bridget's birthday. I promised her I'd support whatever she wanted to do. So just let her have this one, okay?"

In that instant, Marjorie was certain that if rage could take physical form, the fire in her eyes would have burned straight through him.

"That bracelet is MINE! What gives you the right to take what's mine and use it to impress another woman?"

She shoved him away from her with every ounce of strength she had left, then grabbed a paddle from a nearby seat and screamed, "Six hundred million!"

Christian hadn't expected the push. He stumbled backward and barely caught himself on a chair.

The softness in his eyes when he'd first approached was gone. Only irritation remained.

"Marge, and here I was praising you this afternoon for being gracious. Turns out it was all an act. It's just a bracelet. It's Bridget's birthday. I'm not going to let her be unhappy."

He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. A second later, Bridget squealed behind him.

"Christian! You just transferred ten billion dollars to me? I love you so much!"

The moment Bridget made her announcement, the entire room erupted.

Marjorie stared at Christian in disbelief. He was leaning down, pressing a kiss to Bridget's forehead.

"Something came up at the office. I need to head back." He straightened, his voice casual. "Here's ten billion to play with at the auction. Bid on whatever catches your eye. Don't hold back."

And then he left. The crowd's gazes shifted. Some looked at Bridget with naked envy. Most looked at Marjorie with contempt.

"She's already the ex-wife. Why is she even here, making a scene in front of the new girlfriend?"

"Like a leech that won't peel off..."

Marjorie clenched her fists so hard her nails broke the skin of her palms. The pain was sharp, grounding.

She'd already transferred the bulk of her assets overseas. The liquid funds she had left totaled one and a half billion. Nothing compared to the ten billion Christian had just handed Bridget like pocket change.

But she couldn't let Bridget see that.

The bracelet was the only thing her mother had left her. The only thing. She would not let it fall into the hands of someone that vile.

She drew a slow breath and forced her voice steady. "Seven hundred million."

Before the echo faded, Bridget fired back. "Eight hundred million."

They went back and forth, the numbers climbing past a billion, past twelve hundred million, past fourteen hundred million.

When Marjorie called out one and a half billion, she locked her eyes on Bridget and braced for whatever came next.

Bridget yawned. She actually yawned, stretching lazily in her seat. "Boring. I'm done. It's just a tacky old bracelet."

She stood, waving for the handler to deliver it to Marjorie.

Marjorie rushed forward to take it.

Her fingers had barely closed around the jade when Bridget's foot shot out.

Marjorie pitched forward, her body beyond her control. The bracelet flew from her hands, struck the floor, and split in two with a clean, terrible crack.

"Oh my God, she spent all that money and broke it herself!"

"Maybe she should see a doctor first? With all that blood on her head, she can't even walk straight. Brain damage, maybe?"

Bridget's laughter cut through the noise like glass. Marjorie stared at the two halves of the bracelet on the floor, rage and grief knotting so tight in her chest she couldn't breathe.

It was the only thing her mother had left her. And Bridget had destroyed it.

"Bridget Quinn, you psychopath!"

She bit down until she tasted blood and dragged herself off the ground. She hadn't even found her footing when Bridget's heel slammed into her side and sent her crashing back down.

Her forehead struck the edge of a step. The old wound from the car accident split open against the new one, and her vision went black at the edges, flickering in and out.

Then she heard Bridget's voice ring out across the hall, bright with excitement:

"It's my birthday today! You all heard, right? Christian just wired me ten billion dollars. Anyone who lands a hit on Marjorie Pruitt gets ten million. Limited supply, first come first served!"

The crowd surged to their feet like a dam had broken. Fists and shoes came from every direction.

Marjorie reached out, trying to shield the two halves of the bracelet with her body, but the mob pressed in from all sides, trampling over her.

She watched the bracelet get crushed underfoot. Four pieces. Six pieces. Fragments too small to pick up.

Her head, her back, her legs. Every part of her was covered in shoe prints.

She didn't know how long it lasted. At some point the beating stopped and the crowd drifted away, leaving Marjorie alone on the floor of the empty hall.

Her hands were slick with blood where they'd been stomped on. Her eyes had swollen nearly shut, reduced to slits.

She gathered every ounce of strength she had left and stretched her arm toward her phone, a few feet away. She needed to call the police.

The screen lit up with push notifications instead.

BREAKING: Sanchez Group CEO Christian Sanchez Exposed as Serial Cheater, Caught with College Student!

How Master Manipulator Christian Sanchez Turned His Own Wife into "The Other Woman"

Marjorie froze. Her eyes flicked to the timestamp.

The phone rang. Scarface. His voice was rough with anger.

"Ms. Pruitt, I went ahead and leaked everything on Christian Sanchez. A full day ahead of schedule. I couldn't stomach waiting any longer, not for a man that disgusting. I'm wiring back every cent you paid me. Consider it my public service."

His gruff voice echoed through the empty auction hall. Something warm flickered in Marjorie's chest.

She called herself an ambulance. After they treated her injuries at the hospital, she slipped out into the night, took a cab to the airport, and changed her ticket to the next red-eye to Switzerland.

Before the plane took off, Marjorie checked Sanchez Group's stock price one last time.

The screen was a wall of green, plummeting so fast it almost hurt to look at. A cold smile crossed her face. She snapped her SIM card in half and dropped the pieces into the trash.

She hoped Christian enjoyed his parting gift.

Sanchez Group had a billion-dollar contract that had just gone sideways. Christian had rushed back to the office from the auction specifically to deal with it.

First it was errors in the contract figures. No sooner had he resolved those than he was informed the company's cash flow was insufficient to cover operations.

When he heard the news, Christian slammed his fist into his desk so hard it left a dent in the surface.

"Sanchez Group is a corporate empire. How the hell does a company this size fumble basic details?"

He turned his gaze on his assistant. "Suspend the project lead immediately. And pull the quarterly financials. I want them on my desk."

A suspicion had already taken root in his mind: someone inside the company was sabotaging them.

It wasn't the first time a mole had surfaced. Sanchez Group was powerful, and powerful companies bred envy. There was never a shortage of people who wanted to see them fall.

But back then, he'd had Marjorie by his side. Her Pruitt Group had been strong enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with Sanchez Group. With Marjorie in his corner, a crisis like this would have been nothing for the two of them to handle together.

Now, though, Marjorie had dissolved Pruitt Group to chase after him, and he was fighting alone. He was juggling the hunt for the mole with one hand while his partners bombarded him with increasingly aggressive messages with the other. It was enough to make his head split.

Mr. Sanchez, the project is ready to break ground. What about the funding?

Christian Sanchez, is a company your size really going to default?

Christian Sanchez, was all that power of yours really just Ms. Pruitt's doing? If I'd known, I would've partnered with her instead.

The way they addressed him shifted from respectful to dismissive, and then to outright contempt.

Christian had never been subjected to this kind of humiliation. He wanted nothing more than to crush every last one of them, make them vanish from Northgate City overnight. But the problem had to be solved first. He swallowed his fury and called Marjorie.

He would borrow some money from her. She had plenty, and she loved him so much she would never refuse.

He called five times. Every single one rang out unanswered.

The messages from his partners kept flooding in, and by now they had escalated to personal attacks.

Christian knew he couldn't afford to wait any longer. He dispatched his secretary to the auction venue to find Marjorie, and simultaneously dialed another business partner, a man named Abbott.

Christian still had some money of his own. If Abbott could lend him a bit more, it would at least be enough to plug the gap and keep the project moving.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up. Abbott's voice came through from the other end.

"Mr. Sanchez, what can I do for you?"

Unlike the barrage of insults from the others, Abbott's tone was eager to please, practically fawning. Christian found it soothing. His own voice softened considerably.

"I've got a project on my hands. Sixty-forty profit split. Interested?"

He didn't mention the cash flow crisis. He simply assumed that given how desperately Abbott had always tried to curry favor with him, this offer alone would be enough to have the man falling over himself to help.

After all, Abbott's company was an ant next to Sanchez Group.

And sure enough, the moment Christian finished speaking, Abbott scrambled to agree. "Absolutely, absolutely, Mr. Sanchez. Just say the word."

Even through the phone, Christian could practically see Abbott nodding his head like a bobblehead.

Half the tension drained from his chest. He was already telling himself that he could weather this storm alone, no help from Marjorie needed, when Abbott's voice came through again, tinged with surprise and hesitation. "Hold on, Mr. Sanchez. I think I might need to reconsider."

Before Christian could get a word in, Abbott hung up.

Christian stared at the screen, stunned. Before he could even process his anger, his assistant's panicked shout cut through the office: "Mr. Sanchez, this is bad! Check what's trending right now! Negative stories about you are everywhere. Sanchez Group stock just hit the limit down!"