Chapter 3

The auctioneer presented the necklace. It glittered under the lights, a deep, mesmerizing blue. My mother's love story was tied to that sapphire. I had to get it back.

"The bidding for The Heart of the Ocean will start at five million dollars," the auctioneer announced.

I raised my paddle. "Five million."

A murmur went through the crowd.

Then, another paddle went up across the room. "Six million," Alexander's voice called out, clear and confident.

He was looking right at me, a challenging smirk on his face. Isolde was beside him, her eyes wide with feigned surprise, though a flicker of triumph danced in them. This was another power play.

"Seven million," I said immediately, my voice steady.

"Ten million," he countered, without blinking.

The room fell silent. This was no longer an auction; it was a duel. Alaric, Darrius, and Jefferey quietly lowered their paddles. They wouldn't bid against Alexander. Their loyalty was never to me.

"Fifteen million," I said, my heart pounding. This was a significant chunk of my personal trust fund.

"Twenty million," Alexander shot back. He was enjoying this, the public humiliation, the display of his power over me.

In my past life, I remembered a similar auction. He had outbid me for a painting I desperately wanted, only to give it to Isolde in front of me. The memory fueled my resolve.

"Twenty-five million," I said, my voice tight.

Alexander laughed. "Fifty million."

A collective gasp echoed through the hall. He had just doubled the price, an impossible sum meant to crush me completely. He knew I couldn't match it.

He had won. The hammer fell.

"Sold, to Mr. Alexander Booth for fifty million dollars!"

He didn't even look at the necklace. He looked at me, his eyes cold and victorious. He leaned down and whispered something to Isolde, who giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Alaric and Darrius were at my side again, their voices full of fake sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Azalea." "He's a monster."

I ignored them, pushing through the crowd, my eyes locked on Alexander. I would not let him have this victory. I walked straight up to him. "I'll buy it from you," I said, my voice low but firm.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what would you offer me?"

"Sixty million," I said. "A ten-million-dollar profit for doing nothing."

Isolde looked at me, her eyes gleaming with greed. But Alexander just smiled. "It's not for sale."

"Everything has a price," I insisted.

He looked me up and down, a cruel, mocking light in his eyes. "You're right. It does have a price. But not one you can pay with money." He leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper meant only for me. "You want it? Get on your knees. Beg me for it. Maybe then I'll consider it."

The humiliation was a physical blow. The crowd was watching, whispering. My face burned. But the necklace... it was my mother's. It was my father's memory.

With my pride in tatters, I did the unthinkable. I sank to my knees on the cold marble floor.

The room erupted in shocked whispers. Alexander's smile widened. He had won. He had brought the great Azalea Kidd to her knees.

"Please," I whispered, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "Sell it to me."

He reveled in my humiliation for a long moment, then he gestured for the auction staff to bring him the box. He took it, opened it, and held the beautiful necklace in his hand. He looked from the necklace to me, still kneeling on the floor.

Then, with a deliberate, slow movement, he snapped the delicate chain. The priceless sapphires scattered across the floor like blue tears.

A horrified gasp swept through the room. He had destroyed it. He had destroyed my parents' memory right in front of my eyes, just to hurt me.

Something inside me broke.

I surged to my feet and slapped him across the face. The sound cracked through the stunned silence.

"You monster!" I screamed.

Isolde immediately burst into tears, rushing to his side. "Alexander! Are you okay? Azalea, how could you?" She was playing the victim, as always. But then she did something unexpected. She ran towards the nearby balcony, climbing onto the ledge.

"If you're going to be so cruel to Alexander, I don't want to live!" she shrieked, a picture of manufactured despair.

It was pure theater. The drop was only one story to a terrace below. A stunt to make me look like the villain.

The crowd panicked. People screamed. Alexander rushed to her, "Isolde, no!" He "saved" her, pulling her back from the ledge into his arms as she "swooned." He then turned to me, his face a mask of fury.

"Look what you've done," he hissed, his voice full of menace. "You'll pay for this."

His security guards grabbed my arms, dragging me away as if I were a criminal.

The next thing I knew, I was in a private room at a hospital. Alexander was there, along with a doctor.

"Isolde is in shock," the doctor said gravely. "The stress you caused her has triggered a severe episode related to her rare heart condition. She needs a blood transfusion immediately, but her blood type is incredibly rare. RH-negative."

I froze. I knew where this was going. My blood type was also RH-negative.

Isolde, looking pale and fragile in the hospital bed, spoke up weakly. "No... don't ask Azalea. It's my fault. I shouldn't have upset her." She was so good at being the martyr.

Alexander ignored her. His cold eyes were fixed on me. "You heard the doctor. She needs blood." He wasn't ordering me, not directly. He was cornering me. That evening, his PR team was already spinning the story. Cruel Heiress Azalea Kidd Drives Innocent Girlfriend to Brink of Death, Refuses Life-Saving Donation.

He was trapping me in a cage of public opinion. If I refused, I was a monster. If I agreed, I was submitting to his will. I looked at his smug face and saw the checkmate he had planned.

"Fine," I said, my voice shaking with rage. "I'll do it."

He smiled, a cold, triumphant smile. He had won this round. As the nurses prepped my arm, I stared at him, my hatred a physical force.

"I curse you, Alexander Booth," I whispered, so only he could hear. "I curse you and that woman. I hope you both rot in hell."

He just laughed. "Save your breath, Azalea. You should be honored to have your blood flowing in Isolde's veins."

The needle slid into my arm. I felt my strength begin to drain away. My vision started to blur. As I slipped into unconsciousness, my mind replayed my own death. The cold water, the laughing faces of my betrayers.

And the one face that was filled with pain.

"Darrian," I whispered, his name a prayer on my lips as the darkness consumed me. "Darrian..."