“My husband tore my ultrasound report to shreds at a gala, publicly declaring me barren to protect his mistress. I was visibly pregnant, but he erased me, our child, and my truth with a single, cruel lie. So I faked my death and disappeared. Five years later, I returned, no longer a fragile wife but a hardened salvage expert with a fortune. I walked into a high-stakes auction where Emerson was the top bidder. I let my son, his spitting image, make the first move. Then, I stepped from the shadows and calmly raised my paddle. "Seven hundred fifty million."”