I selected a diamond ring at the auction house, intending it to be my wedding band with Marcus Ashford. But no matter how high I bid, the young woman Marcus sponsored always topped my offer by a single chip. Marcus laughed, a sound laced with indulgent exasperation. “Babe, the kid has a thing for sparkly bits. Let her have it, be sweet.” In return, I executed the scorched-earth close. Daisy Monroe ran out of the room that day, crying. Marcus kissed my forehead with a look of helpless affection. “My impulsive little firecracker.” He didn't follow Daisy. And for the next year of our marriage, he made sure I knew he hadn't, relentlessly demanding, night after night, an exhausting variety of attention, never letting up for a moment. Then the invitation to a private event arrived. There, an intimate photograph—a blurred shot of my face lost in pleasure beneath Marcus—was brazenly displayed as an auction lot. Marcus stood with an arm wrapped possessively around Daisy’s waist. “You like your scorched-earth tactics, don't you?” he said, his smile cold and predatory. “Three hundred and sixty-five private photos. If you don't want them falling into the wrong hands, you can take your time buying them back.” 1 I stood rigid in the auction hall, listening to dozens of men in tailored suits talk openly and vulgarly in front of the massive screen. “God, she’s filthy! I’ve been around the block a hundred times, but this is the first time a single photo has gotten me this worked up.” “Tsk, tsk! I wouldn’t have guessed. Eliza Sutton looks like a choir girl, but she’s filthier in bed than a high-end escort. And she had the nerve to tell me to get lost the one time I tried to touch her at a charity event.” “Ashford’s got all the luck. He gets to break in a debutante from a family of academics.” A man nudged his neighbor and gave a suggestive wink toward Marcus, who sat alone at the main table. My hands clenched into fists, trembling as I turned to look at my husband. The seat that was once mine was occupied by Daisy. Marcus made no effort to hide his satisfaction, his lips curving into a subtle smirk. “For the winner of each photo,” he announced, his voice carrying clearly across the room, “we're including the full video recording from that night.” “Ashford, you’re a legend!” The men erupted in cheers. Marcus’s beautiful eyes fixed on mine, a thread of amusement woven into his gaze. “Don’t look at me like that, Eliza. I told you, you can use your scorched-earth tactics. Three hundred and sixty-five pictures. Take your time.” “Oh, Ashford, surely you know! The Sutton Group went belly-up recently. Miss Sutton barely has two cents to rub together!” “One of those scorched-earth bids costs five million dollars! She’d be lucky to have ten million in liquid cash left.” Marcus raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh? Is that so?” “Damn shame. Three hundred and sixty-five shots, each one better than the last. Honestly, I’d love to buy the whole collection and observe them at my leisure.” A man stroked his chin, sighing. “Too bad, Ashford is the only one here with that kind of capital.” Marcus chuckled, raising a hand. “Gentlemen, Ashford Holdings will not participate in the bidding for any of today’s lots. All proceeds will be donated to a vetted charity. Bid freely.” The room exploded with renewed cheers. “That’s a true entrepreneur! Thank God Ashford secretly squeezed out Sutton Industries’ partners, or we might not have gotten a hold of these photos today!” “What are you worried about? We’ve got dozens of guys here. We can all share!” “No way! That third shot is too wild. I’m taking it!” Only I stood there, my fists trembling, staring at Marcus in disbelief. “The Sutton Group’s collapse,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Was that your doing?” Marcus simply looked back, the smirk playing on his lips. Tears streamed down my face, my voice raw and coarse. “Why... because I executed a scorched-earth bid a year ago?” Marcus ignored my plea, taking the microphone. “Time is limited, Mrs. Ashford. If you aren’t going to participate in the auction, I’m going to let my friends start.” The men watched me, their expressions smug and expectant. Each man in this room was a mogul, a titan in our social circle. The paltry ten million I had left was barely enough for one of their weekend trips. How could I possibly compete? “I need a restroom.” I quickly wiped my eyes and turned to leave the hall. I genuinely feared I would lose my mind right there on the spot. A roar of laughter erupted behind me. “The little tramp actually has shame, hahaha!” “Ashford, don’t wait for her. Ten million dollars? She can’t play with us. She's just embarrassed and using the restroom as an excuse to run.” “Silence.” Marcus’s voice cut through the noise, cold and sharp. He stared intently at the entrance. The entire room fell silent; no one dared to cross him. A moment later, I pushed the door open. I walked back in, my eyes still red, and took my seat under the collective gaze of the room. “Start the bidding.” Marcus glanced at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. To ensure clarity, the main screen behind the host had been transformed into a panoramic, wraparound display, continuously scrolling through my humiliation so everyone could “enjoy” it from any angle. “Lot number one.” The host smiled knowingly. “Starting bid, two hundred thousand.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. “Classy! So tasteful! A fine art exhibit! Only the Sutton debutante could make it look this good.” “Two hundred fifty thousand!” The host didn’t smile; instead, he put up a text description. I shot to my feet. It was a detailed narrative of the pivotal moments from my wedding night with Marcus. Aside from me, the only person who could have written those details was… I trembled as I stared at Marcus. He sat there calmly, a look of detached mockery on his face, as if none of this involved him. Only when Daisy leaned in to whisper to him did he turn, his eyes filling with a tenderness he’d never once offered me. The clamor around me was deafening. “I thought the photo was hot enough, but the story is even wilder! Don’t snatch it up too fast—five million! I want the video!” “Six million!” “They started this hot on the first night, I can’t imagine what came later… Ugh! Ten million!” “Scorched earth.” I heard my voice, shaking and weak. All heads turned toward me. The host maintained his professional smile. “Lot thirty-eight executes the scorched-earth bid. Are you certain?” I collapsed back into my seat, my voice a barely-there whisper. “Certain.” “Damn! Too bad, that video was definitely going to be explosive.” “What are you afraid of? How many lots can she cover?” “Exactly. The later ones will be better anyway. The more experience, the hotter the content.” “Lot thirty-eight, scorched earth! Congratulations, Mrs. Ashford, you’ve secured the video package!” I closed my eyes, my fingernails digging deep into my palms. The large screen immediately moved to the second photograph, complete with its accompanying narrative. “Lot number two, starting bid two hundred thousand!” The room erupted. “Is this even real? It’s better than any of the study material I’ve ever seen!” A man sitting close to me poked my arm. “Tsk, tsk, tsk! I never would have thought it. You look so pure, but in private, you’re just a low-down tramp.” I shot him a venomous glare. He roared with laughter. “Hey, I like them just like you! If Ashford doesn’t want you, come to me! I’ll spot you one of your bids. How about it?” “Don’t touch me.” My voice was icy enough to kill. The man snorted dismissively and sat back. “Playing innocent? You’re used goods. Ten million!” “Twenty million!” “Twenty-five million!” “Scorched… earth.” I don’t know where I found the strength to utter the words. The host glanced at me, his smile deepening with a hint of malice. “Lot thirty-eight, scorched earth!” The transaction was complete. He turned back to me with an artificial smile. “That’s two scorched-earth bids, ma’am. Based on our verification, you have less than five hundred thousand left in liquid cash, you know?” My voice was hollow. “Continue.” “Heh.” The disdain on the host’s face was momentarily unchecked as he brought up the third photograph. “Lot number three, starting bid two hundred thousand!” “Scorched earth.” My voice drew the immediate, bewildered attention of the room. The host frowned. “Mrs. Ashford, your initial verification was ten million, four hundred and thirty thousand dollars. You’ve used two bids. The remaining cash is insufficient.” A man winked at me. “Beg me, little sister, and big brother will cover it for you.” I ignored them and looked only at Marcus. He was watching me, too. But there was no sign of help in his eyes, only a curl of contempt on his lips. Everyone looked to him. After all, he was still my husband. “Why are you all looking at me?” Marcus said casually, a lazy curl to his lip. “I said, all lots are open for you gentlemen to bid on.” The men relaxed with a collective sigh. “Thank you, Ashford, for being a gentleman.” It was then that Daisy, who had been sitting quietly beside him, raised her hand. “How about this,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “I’ll execute the scorched-earth bid for my sister.” Marcus looked at her. A brief flash of astonishment was quickly replaced by undisguised delight. Daisy looked at me. “After all, big sister once sponsored my university tuition abroad. I have to show my gratitude, don’t I?” The smile in Marcus’s eyes deepened. His usually cold demeanor melted away as he looked at Daisy, his face full of warmth. The men in the room began to jeer. “No wonder Ashford loves Daisy! Who wouldn’t love such an obedient girl?” “Daisy is such an angel. She blushes at a dirty joke, unlike some people.” The implied accusation was like a sharpened blade stabbing into me. Daisy’s lips curved in a subtle, victorious smirk before she turned back to me. “Don’t worry, sister.” “You’re a hypocrite.” She faltered. “What?” “Your way of showing gratitude is by stealing my seat and hooking up with my husband?” I leaned back in the chair. “I’m sorry, but I haven't fallen so far as to need help from a cheap traitor and a human garbage heap.” “Eliza Sutton.” Marcus finally spoke, his tone ice cold and utterly foreign. I gave him a fleeting, frigid glance and addressed the host. “It’s my bid. I’ll handle it myself.” “Well…” The host looked troubled. “If you insist on the scorched-earth bid, we’ll have to liquidate the remaining Sutton real estate. However, the value has dropped significantly since the bankruptcy. It’s barely enough to scrape together five million.” “Execute it. Don’t waste time.” “Tsk, tsk, tsk! This woman is insane.” The men shook their heads and scoffed. “Throwing away her last assets just to save face. It’s a pity; that third one was the one I really wanted.” “Don’t worry. We haven’t even gotten to the half-way point. Three hundred more to go. What are you worried about?” “Exactly. I took a sneak peek—the later ones get so filthy she looks subhuman, hahaha!” A chorus of gazes, pitying and mocking, shot toward me. “Just the death throes of a desperate woman.” “Wait for the next one. She’ll just have to watch us take her private photos.” “Tsk, tsk, tsk! I wonder what her expression will be then. Will it be the same as when she was on Ashford’s bed?” Laughter rang in my ears. I swallowed the lump in my throat, gripped my fists, and looked up at the host. The fourth photo was displayed quickly. “Lot number four, starting bid two hundred thousand!” “No way! I love this one! Fifteen million!” “Twenty million!” “Twenty-five million!” “Scorched earth.” I spoke. All eyes immediately swiveled to me. The host’s professional smile was finally beginning to crack. “Mrs. Ashford, please stop disrupting the process. If you continue, we will have to ask you to leave.” I said, coolly, “I’m not disrupting anything. I said I want to execute the scorched-earth bid. And not just for this one. I am bidding on all three hundred and sixty-five photos and videos in this entire collection.” The host and the crowd exchanged glances, then burst out laughing. Even Daisy let out a delighted little gasp and buried her face into Marcus’s shoulder. Marcus’s eyes were so full of gentle adoration they could have melted water, and the frozen mask of his face finally relaxed. “Is she insane? Three hundred and sixty-five lots? That’s over one point eight billion dollars! She couldn’t afford that even before she went bankrupt!” “Only Ashford can play that big! Who does she think she is?” The host took a moment to regain his composure and his professional smile. “Mrs. Ashford, you liquidated all your assets on the last lot. You cannot bid on this one. Now, which gentleman bid twenty-five million? Twenty-five million, going once!” Smash! I snatched the glass of water from the table and hurled it forward. It shattered at the host’s feet with a loud crack, making him leap back. I glared at him. “I said I am executing the scorched-earth bid. Are you deaf?” “Eliza Sutton!” A man’s patience snapped. “We played along for three lots! You’re broke now! Stop putting on a show!” “Fraudulent bidding has consequences. The fact that we even want your photos is a compliment, don’t be ungrateful!” The host’s smile was gone entirely. “Mrs. Ashford, if it weren’t for Mr. Ashford, you wouldn’t even have the right to execute a scorched-earth bid here. If you continue to act out, I will have security escort you out!” I narrowed my eyes. “Who said I’m broke?” Marcus watched me, an unreadable tension in his posture. The crowd paused. “Don’t joke around. This is a private auction, but do you think our asset verification methods are a joke? We know exactly how much you have.” I looked at the host. “If I still have funds, I can still bid, correct?” “Yes, but…” “Re-verify my assets.” I cut the host off. The crowd exchanged bewildered looks. Marcus frowned, almost imperceptibly. I pulled the microphone closer to me. “What’s the matter? Can’t you gentlemen handle a simple re-verification?” “Hmph! Verify it then! We’ll let you lose with honor!” My photo was wiped from the main screen, replaced by my bank account balance. The host stood back up. “Lot thirty-eight, second asset verification.” Everyone stared intensely at the numbers, a nervousness creeping onto their faces. Whispers broke out. “How is she so calm? Does she actually have the money?” “No way… Ashford secretly blocked all her company’s partnerships. Who in this city has more pull than him?” “So she’s just completely lost it? Humiliating herself in public? Maybe… maybe she got a backer we don't know about…” “Impossible! What backer is bigger than Ashford?” “Verification complete.” Everyone leaned in, holding their breath. Subtracting the cost of the three scorched-earth bids… Account Balance— Zero. “Hahahahahaha!!” The room exploded with laughter. “We thought she had some secret plan. Turns out she’s truly lost it!” A faint sneer appeared on Marcus’s lips. Daisy was laughing so hard she was wiping tears from her eyes. The host gestured to the security detail. “I apologize, Mrs. Ashford. You are disrupting the process. I must ask you to leave. Thank you for your support of this auction. Security!” A line of large men immediately moved to surround me. “Wait.” I sat calmly, looking down at my wrist watch. My index finger tapped the armrest, keeping rhythm with the second hand. After three more taps, I made a “go ahead” gesture. “You may re-verify my assets now.” “Eliza Sutton, what do you think we are, here to waste time with a lunatic?” The host was furious, waving his hand. “Drag her out and toss her.” But the words died in his throat. His eyes slowly widened, and he snapped his head back, staring intently at the screen. “This… How is this possible?” Marcus suddenly stood up. Everyone else was on their feet. “That’s… that can’t be real, can it?”
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