His Neglected Wife Is A Genius Auctioneer

er abdomen, the excruciating pain from the fallopian tube removal surgery making her gasp. Julian Carlisle should have been here. But he wasn't. This cruel real

ngine roared to life, and the car sped away. The city rushed past,

id of warmth. "Mr. Carlisle has a business dinner at the barbecue

hoarse. This was the first time in

s the family's reputation. It'

to her. The driver's gaze flickered in the rearview mirror. She didn't care. Five yea

hing-a doctorate, a thriving career as a top auctioneer at Christie's. Fo

ia Hotel. She took the elevator directly to the penthouse. The elevator

nd. He should have been on holiday in London with his daughter and secretary .

he said as he walked toward

artling her. She instinctively recoiled, the mo

gaze fixed blankly on the floor. He lowered his hand, turned, and walked back to the bar without a

she said, her tone mu

inst the bar, facing her, with an air of nonchalance yet superiority. A

Centurion card onto the table. The card clattered to the floor-the same scornful sound she'd heard countless times, whenever h

oney," she said, each

because I was with her last weekend? You knew my responsibilities to my daughter when we

tead, she felt relieved. She finally saw his true colors-he was no longer her husband, but

p my career as a top auctioneer, just to be your beautiful but silent appendage. For five years, I've tried

came along, you were nothing. A girl who lived on scholars

and broken. "A cold bed, a black card, and

s face darkening. "You think you can just wal

her chin as if to wash away the grime on her body.

owards the guest room, each step seeming to proclaim s

entually! You can't live a da

doorknob tightly, enduring the excruciating pain,

shing heavily onto the cold floor. Her wounds burned, but beneath the pain, a memory surfaced-the

door . He went

m this cage-like bed, she could overlook Manhattan, a dazzl

ashes of despair, a faint