Chapter 3

Hayley POV

At the auction.

To win a smile from me, Spencer bought every single item in the entire first half of the auction, even though I didn't spare a single glance for any of them.

During the intermission, a few of Spencer's childhood friends came over to chat.

"I was wondering who was being so possessive. Of course, it's you, Spencer."

"You totally swiped that antique I wanted to get for my mom's birthday right from under my nose. Guess I missed my chance."

"Hey, Spencer, give us a break for the second half, okay? We just want to buy one thing!"

Spencer barely bothered with them, focused instead on peeling a blood orange for me. Only after they finished complaining did he slowly lift his eyes and say nonchalantly, "What's the rush? My fiancée hasn't even started picking yet."

The group let out a chorus of dramatic complaints but could only reluctantly accept defeat.

Spencer's lips curved upwards as he held a perfect segment of orange to my mouth.

I turned my head away, my expression cold.

"No appetite."

The second half began.

Just then, the side door of the venue opened. A slender woman in a simple white dress, guided by a staff member, walked in.

I felt Spencer's body beside me instantly stiffen.

I looked up, and Mia's pale yet fragile face drifted into my line of sight.

Mia softly thanked the staff member, declined the empty seats in the front row, and chose to sit alone in the least conspicuous corner at the very back.

Everyone in the room cast curious glances, whispering to each other.

"Isn't that Mia, the famous artist from social media? I heard she has really poor health and rarely makes public appearances."

"Why would she be at a place like this?"

"Shh, don't you know? She has a mysterious patron, rumored to be incredibly powerful. Looking at her, she's probably here to bid on something for her patron."

I was about to look away when I saw Mia take out her phone, snap a photo of a painting about to be auctioned, and then send a message.

Almost simultaneously, Spencer's phone lit up.

He quickly glanced at it, then put it back in his pocket, but his posture unconsciously straightened.

My heart sank.

Throughout the second half, I remained distracted until the final item, the grand finale, was presented.

It was a yellowed manuscript of poetry, said to be the sole surviving copy left by a deceased niche poet-my favorite poet.

The auctioneer passionately described the manuscript's rarity and uniqueness. Perhaps sensing a flicker of interest in my eyes, Spencer didn't hesitate to raise his paddle.

"One million!"

A cool female voice rang out from the back row.

"Two million, one thousand."

It was Mia. Her voice was soft but carried a stubborn edge.

Spencer's brows furrowed, "Five million!"

"Five million, one thousand."

"Ten million!"

"Ten million, one thousand." Mia's voice trembled slightly, as if she was exerting all her strength.

...

Finally, Spencer, expressionless, made a gesture to his assistant.

The assistant immediately stepped forward and whispered to the auctioneer.

The auctioneer excitedly struck his hammer. "Ladies and gentlemen! Mr. Spencer has exercised his right of first refusal and has just completed a full acquisition of the auction house's parent company! This manuscript, and all items auctioned today, now belong to Mr. Spencer!"

The room erupted in applause.

Spencer gently squeezed my hand and whispered in my ear.

"Stay here, I'll go handle the transfer paperwork."

I watched him stand and leave. At the other end of the room, Mia also stood up, giving me a deep, unreadable look.

After everyone had left, I slowly uncurled my tightly clenched hand, my nails leaving deep, bloody marks in my palm.

I didn't feel the pain. I just stood up and walked towards the exit.

My phone screen was still on the message I had just received.

"Underground parking."