Chapter 2
"I'm the one who got married," Vivian said, raising her left hand to show the pale mark where her ring used to be. "Sebastian, you want to take pictures? Fine. Get the divorce certificate first, then you can photograph the mark my ring left."
A quiet "wow" went up from the crowd.
Sebastian's expression chilled a little.
At that moment, Sylvia slowly stepped forward, her voice as light as a feather.
"Vivian, don't stir things up. Sebastian's just here for charity," she said softly.
Vivian turned to look at her.
Sylvia's eyes curved in a gentle smile, her posture graceful and poised—the picture of an innocent victim.
"Thank you for looking after Sebastian these past three years," Sylvia said with a smile. "Now that I'm back, you can take it easy. It's never a good look for a woman to hold on to something that was never hers, only to make things awkward for everyone in the end."
That line crushed Vivian's dignity, leaving her utterly humiliated.
The whole room went dead silent, everyone holding their breath.
Vivian stared at her, then suddenly smiled.
"Ms. Raby is right," she nodded. "Snatching someone else's spot really is a bad look."
Sylvia's smile faltered for a moment.
Vivian set the brown envelope down gently on the auction table, locking eyes with Sebastian.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not here to take anyone's spot," she said.
"I'm here to let you know."
Her words cut through the air, sharp as a blade against porcelain.
"You can auction the ring. As for the marriage, I'm done.
"But you'd better pray my unborn child is all right," Vivian said.
Her words hit like a bucket of boiling oil—suddenly, the whole banquet hall erupted in uproar.
Sebastian's pupils contracted in shock.
Sylvia's face drained of color.
The crowd burst into commotion.
"She's pregnant?" someone blurted out.
"Wait, Mrs. Shaw's really having a baby?" another person gasped.
"No way, is that for real?" someone else whispered.
Sebastian's gaze finally settled on the brown envelope, his eyes turning chillingly dark.
"Vivian," he said, his voice cold as ice. "So this is the kind of move you're resorting to now?"
Vivian stood under the lights, a sudden chill spreading through her whole body.
She looked at him, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Do you think I'm lying to you about the baby?" she asked.
Sebastian didn't answer.
But that brief, almost cruel silence was answer enough.
Vivian felt a sharp pain twist in her stomach, and for a moment, everything went black.
She dug her nails into her palm, barely holding herself together so she wouldn't break down right there.
Right on cue, Sylvia reached out and gently took Sebastian's arm, her voice soft as silk. "Sebastian, don't be so harsh. Maybe Vivian's just feeling insecure. Women can do anything when they're scared of losing what matters to them."
Vivian turned to look at her and suddenly realized just how dangerous Sylvia could be.
With just a gentle nudge, she could twist the truth so effortlessly, making the guilty look innocent and the innocent look guilty.
Vivian didn't say another word. She just reached for the brown envelope.
But just then, Sylvia lost her balance and went tumbling forward. The champagne glass in her hand crashed to the floor, shattering with a loud bang. Sharp shards cut her leg open, and blood started pouring out.
The whole place erupted into chaos.
"Sylvia!" Sebastian called out.
He quickly grabbed her arm to steady her.
Sylvia's face turned pale as she pressed her hand to the wound, tears glistening in her eyes. "I'm okay, Sebastian. Please...don't blame Vivian."
That single line—"Don't blame Vivian"—was enough to pin all the blame on her, making Vivian look like the culprit in everyone's eyes.
All eyes landed on Vivian again—suspicion, contempt, pity, and pure curiosity, stabbing at her like a swarm of needles.
Sebastian finally looked up at her, his stare cold enough to freeze.
"That's enough.
"Vivian, I'm not here to play along with your drama."
With that, he scooped Sylvia up in his arms and strode off without looking back.
Vivian stood there, watching his retreating figure, frozen in place for a long moment.
The brown envelope on the auction table fluttered open in the breeze, revealing the ultrasound report inside. The black-and-white image looked like a star that had fallen into the wrong place.
The auctioneer stood there, completely frozen, and nobody dared to say a word.
Someone was about to step in and break the tension, but Vivian moved first. She bent down, picked up the ultrasound report, folded it with care, and placed it gently back into the envelope.
Her movements were slow and light, as if she were picking up the pieces of her dignity, shattered on the floor, with no one there to help her gather them.
Then she looked up at the ring on the auction table and gave a sudden, fleeting smile.
"Continue the auction," she said.
Her voice was quiet and even.
"Things from the past really aren't worth a thing," Vivian said quietly.
With that, she turned and walked out.
Outside the banquet hall, rain poured in torrents, and the wind howled like it was about to rip the whole city apart.
Just as Vivian reached the revolving door, a heavy, cramping pain slammed into her abdomen.
She instinctively braced herself against the wall, her face going deathly pale as cold sweat broke out across her forehead.
The doorman cried out, "Mrs. Shaw, are you alright?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, a warm liquid trickled down her thigh.
It was shockingly red.
It felt as if someone had twisted open a blood-red flower inside her body, the pain blooming cruelly from within.