Chapter 2

Vivian giggled and shook Michael's arm.

Vivian cooed, "Mike, she's just a pretty face, totally relying on you. Why bother getting upset over someone who doesn't know good art?

"Since Mrs. Quinn wants to play, I'll play along.

"Let the big shots enjoy the show. Isn't that entertaining? Just think of it as Mrs. Quinn giving them a free performance," Vivian laughed.

Then, Vivian sighed softly.

"Mrs. Quinn was acting up today. I bet she's jealous I'm with you. Maybe I should just go," Vivian said, sounding a little sad and vulnerable.

She turned to leave, but Michael pulled her right back into his arms.

"She's the one who should go, not you. If she wants to crawl out, we'll oblige her," Michael said coldly, his voice full of disdain.

I, his wife, had to watch as they flirted blatantly right in front of me, like I wasn't even there.

All of a sudden, for no real reason, irritation just bubbled up inside me.

Mr. King, the bald executive standing nearby, watched the scene and gave Michael a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"No wonder Michael always brings Ms. Lane along. She's not just beautiful, she's got a good head on her shoulders too," Mr. King said with a grin.

At the compliment, Michael's face showed a hint of pride.

Vivian looked at me with a triumphant, challenging grin, as if victory was already hers.

"Mrs. Quinn, how much do you want to bet? Three hundred thousand dollars per round?" Vivian asked, her voice full of mockery.

Mr. King said, "Thought you were going big, but that's nothing."

He chuckled, tapping the armrest with his fat fingers.

"Mrs. Quinn, that's way too small to be interesting. Here's my idea: when the auction starts, whoever wins the painting, the loser pays ten percent of the final price in cash, right on the spot. Are you game?" Mr. King challenged.

Vivian's expression shifted. Ten percent of thirty million dollars is three million dollars.

She might have Michael backing her, but that kind of money...

"Mr. King, are we really playing for stakes that high?" Vivian wavered, her voice a little shaky.

Mr. King, always up for some drama, waved his hand like he didn't care.

"Ms. Lane, just bid however you want—I've got your back. Honestly, I feel sorry for Michael. He's young, talented, and what does he get? A wife who's nothing but a useless ornament," Mr. King snickered.

Vivian was grinning ear to ear, thanking Mr. King profusely, then turned to me with a predatory look, like I was her prey.

"So, Mrs. Quinn, what's your move? If you want to throw in the towel and apologize now, you can still save yourself some embarrassment," Vivian taunted, her voice dripping with mockery.

All eyes were on me, like I was under a spotlight.

I didn't even look at Vivian. I just turned to Mr. King, keeping my voice cool and steady.

"With everyone here as witnesses, Mr. King, are you really putting your money where your mouth is?" I asked, my tone unshaken.

"Of course! That's the thrill of the game!" Mr. King said, thumping his chest.

I nodded and turned to the gallery manager.

"Get a wager contract ready and make sure a notary is here to witness. Once it's official, let's kick off the auction," I said, keeping my voice cool and steady.

Michael stared at me, dumbfounded.

"Rachel, have you lost it? Where are you supposed to get that kind of cash? If you lose, don't expect a single dollar from me," he snapped.

I scoffed, "Lose? That word doesn't exist for me."

Vivian looked at me with a taunting grin.

"Mrs. Quinn, don't forget—if you lose, you'll have to crawl out of here on your hands and knees," she smirked.

"Funny, that's exactly what I was about to say to you," I fired right back.

Vivian flashed a smug grin, then turned to Michael, putting on her best pitiful act.

"Mike, will you blame me for making this bet? She's your wife, after all. If she ends up crawling out, won't that make you look bad too?" Vivian said, pretending to be worried.

"She eats my food, drinks my drinks, and still has the nerve to give me attitude? Making her crawl out is already being nice to her. She should be on her knees, apologizing to you," Michael said coldly.

"Oh, Mike, she's still your wife. I'd never do something to make you lose face in front of everyone. Let's not waste our energy on this useless woman," Vivian said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

She turned back to me, her eyes full of mockery.

"Mrs. Quinn, this is a money game. You're so used to living off Mike, I bet you don't even know what real money looks like anymore," Vivian sneered.

I turned to Michael. "Are you seriously going to cover Vivian's bid?"

"Of course. She's not just some eye candy like you. She's been a real asset to me at work—if she wants something, I'll make it happen. But you? Don't even dream of me paying a dime for you," Michael said coldly.

I let out a cold snort.

"Is this really just about who's got more cash to burn?

Please, as if I'd ever be scared of that," I said.

Once the notary finished, the auctioneer stepped up to the podium, gave a quick intro, and the bidding kicked off.

Vivian was the first to raise her paddle, her voice ringing out clear and confident.

"Fifteen million dollars," she declared.

"Ms. Lane is on fire!" Mr. King cheered from the sidelines.

I picked up my coffee mug, my fingers tracing its warmth.

I didn't say a word.

The room went quiet.

The auctioneer called out, "Fifteen million dollars, going once..."

"Mrs. Quinn, backing out already?" Vivian giggled, covering her mouth.

"Thought you were all tough, but looks like you were just putting on a show," she sneered.

Mr. King jumped in again.

"Looks like Ms. Lane's got this locked down. That's money well spent. Watching someone crawl out—now that's entertainment," he said with a smirk.

Vivian looked like she was about to burst with triumph, her smugness written all over her face.

She got up to grab a glass of champagne, and as she passed by me, her stiletto "accidentally" brushed against my dress.

"Mrs. Quinn, why bother? Wouldn't it be smarter to save yourself some dignity? If you really crawl out of here like a dog, you'll never live it down among the ladies," Vivian sneered, her voice dripping with venom.

She lowered her voice, her tone pure poison.

Michael Quinn frowned, clearly losing his patience.