His Betrayal, Her Broken Heart

his arm. He was handsome, powerful, and tonight, he was the host of the city' s most important charity auction. I felt a quiet pride watching him command the

va," Ethan whispered, his thum

"You're not so bad y

e bids climbed higher and higher. It was all for a good cause. My parents, renowned archaeologists, had even donated a small, au

emen, a truly unique and intimate collection. The personal f

a collection. They were fiercely private people. Their work was their life,

t a particularly challenging find. It was deeply personal, filled with her doubts and her private jokes with my father. Another image flashed on the screen: a collection of small, str

n. I felt their stares like physical blows. These were not artifacts for public consumption; this was my

ly a whisper. My hand tightened on his arm. "

on the stage, a cold, unreadable express

panic. "How did they get this? This

r's scribbled notes, his crude drawings of what he thought ancient tools were used for. My parents' reputa

th both hands. "Ethan, you have to stop thi

es just minutes ago was gone. It was replaced by something h

make sense. "Yo

he said, his vo

estroy their reputation in front of all these people?" My voice

loe Davis. She was a young, ambitious designer Ethan had recently taken under his wing. She looked innocent, her eyes wide as she watched the specta

valuable find in terms of money, but it was their most precious. They had given it to me on my wedding day,

ng my head. "Never. I wo

l sign the donation papers tonight. Or the auction continues. There are more journals, Ava.

on, looking silly and carefree. It was a private moment, now a source of public amusement. The shame was a

e, his face impassive. On the clipboard was a single document. A donation agreement. C

mmanded, his voice leavi

t Chloe, who now met my gaze with a look of timid apology that didn't feel real. And I looked at Etha

a choice at all. It was my family or a piece of stone.

e him for the monster he was revealing himself to be. But I c

onto the paper. With a hand that felt like it belonged to someone else, I

complete, the man with the cl

the stage and gave a nearly imperceptible nod

ff a high bid. "To a private, anonymous buyer who wishes to re

ady moving on. The humiliation was over, swept away as quickl

pathetic mask still in pl

orchestrated this nightmare. He had used my love for my f

nce a comfort, now felt like a cage. He started to

e perfect painting of our life had been slashed to ribbons,