I watched Adam, standing tall and poised, a light flush on his cheeks betraying the calm he projected. His eyes met mine for an instant, a silent plea for reassurance. I nodded subtly, my support unwavering, yet my stomach twisted into knots.
“Five hundred dollars!” called out a voice, igniting the first spark of the bidding war.
“Seven hundred!” another countered swiftly.
“Adam Spencer, folks, an entrepreneur who started a PR company with his brothers fresh out of college, determined to build up new businesses in our community,” the emcee continued.
“Two thousand!” a new bid echoed, more assertive.
“Three thousand five hundred!” The numbers grew, and with each raise, I was prouder and prouder that my man’s talent with words was being recognized by so many.
“Can we hear four?” the emcee goaded, his smile predatory.
“Ten thousand!” The room gasped collectively, followed by a wave of chattering.
“Fifty-five thousand!” The voice cut through the air like a knife, silencing the murmurs around the room.
“Seven hundred and fifty more!” It was the same voice, making the total an unusual fifty-five thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars. What a random number.
My pulse hammered in my ears, the sound drowning out the final gavel as the emcee declared, “Sold!”
My gaze darted across the sea of faces, landing on the figure behind the voice.
I would have recognized the profile even from a distance, even if I hadn’t connected the voice to it immediately.
Victoria stood poised at the edge of the gathered crowd, a sly triumph etched into the refined angles of her face. Her gaze locked on Adam’s.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he stood frozen on the stage. The emcee sang praises to Adam’s ability to command such a high bid and how the money raised would help the disadvantaged children of Cliffborough as well as their families.
Victoria bent her knees to pick up the train of her perfectly fitted dress. Her hair was styled to one side, and there was not a single flaw in her porcelain complexion.
She sauntered around the wide columns on the periphery of the room. Her eyes remained on Adam, but she slowed to a stop in front of me and smiled.
“Quite the generous donation,” I remarked, hoping to keep any kind of emotion from my voice.
“Adam’s worth every penny,” she responded.
Anger bubbled inside me.
Worth every penny?
Was he worth every penny when she put the note under my door on their wedding day? Was he worth every penny when he had to stand on a fucking chair to tell both their families she’d left him?
My eyes darted across the room to Adam’s brothers. Noah’s stare alone gave me the strength to keep my composure.
The moment stretched between us. If she was baiting me into a reaction, she was shit out of luck.
“Looks like you’ve got some planning to do,” I observed, my voice betraying none of my internal rage. Or the desire to claim Adam openly.
“It seems so,” she replied, resuming her measured walk toward Adam.
I fisted my hands beside me when she kissed Adam on the cheek.
“River?”
It turned to one of the servers. “Yeah?”
“We ran out of the smoked salmon hors d’oeuvres.”
