Chapter 3

The auction hall buzzed, a hive of wealth, ambition, and thinly veiled avarice.

Ethan felt out of place, a ghost from a past era.

His suit was a size too loose, a relic from his more prosperous days. He hadn' t had time to find anything better.

He clutched his bidder' s paddle, number 217, feeling the cheap plastic sweat in his palm.

He' d scraped together what little liquid cash he had, a pitiful sum in this arena.

Then he saw them.

Izzy, a vision in crimson, commanding attention like a queen.

And beside her, impeccably tailored, whispering in her ear, was Leo Vance.

Returned from his "studies" in Florence, looking smoother, more predatory than ever.

Izzy' s eyes, cold and assessing, swept the room and landed on Ethan.

A flicker of surprise, quickly replaced by a smirk.

She glided towards him, Leo a silent shadow at her side.

The air around them crackled with unspoken history.

"Ethan. What a surprise," Izzy' s voice was honey-laced with venom. "Slumming it with the common folk, are we?"

Heads turned. Whispers started, a chorus reflecting his fall from grace.

"Izzy," he said, his voice hoarse. "Leo."

Leo offered a smile that didn' t reach his eyes. "Mr. Cole. An unexpected pleasure."

Izzy' s gaze raked over Ethan' s worn suit, his tired face.

"Trying to relive the glory days? Or perhaps you' re desperate?"

Her voice, though pitched low, carried. The nearby "art world insiders" lapped it up.

"I need to raise funds, Izzy. For my father."

"Ah, yes, the sentimental angle," she scoffed. "Charming."

She leaned in, her perfume, a scent he once loved, now cloying.

"Let me make this interesting for you, Ethan. Everything you bid on today, I will outbid you."

Her eyes glittered with malice.

"Consider it... a public service. I' ll be pointing the lantern on your every desperate move."

The old Chinese slang, diǎn tiāndēng, to expose and humiliate someone by outbidding them relentlessly, making them a spectacle of failure.

It was a declaration of war.

Leo watched, a faint, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

Ethan felt a flush creep up his neck. The humiliation was acute, public.

His former glory, now a weapon turned against him by the woman who had once shared it.