Chapter 4
Gasps rippled through the room.
“Damn! She’s something. Ms. Sullivan just doesn’t know when to quit.”
“Last time, she didn’t even get a secondary card from Mr. Stainbrook. This time, not only did she lose that, her studio’s practically bankrupt- ) and she’s still putting on a show?”
I turned my head and locked eyes on Jackson, refusing to look away.
The cruel mockery in his gaze felt like the final straw that crushed me.
Jessie leaned seductively into his neck, her crimson lips brushing against the corner of his mouth as she purred, “Look, Jackson, she’s still trying to fight you. Even now, with her face on the line in front of everyone, she’d rather humiliate herself than just admit she was wrong.”
Jackson looked at me calmly. A trace of a smirk tugged at his lips, like a bored spectator watching a clown perform. Then, with deliberate tenderness, he pressed a kiss to Jessie’s lips.
“Well then, let’s just watch,” he said lazily. “Let’s see how she plans to end this once she’s drained herself dry and still can’t pay up.
“If it gets that bad, she could always follow in her mother’s footsteps- strip down and sell herself off. Though honestly, I doubt anyone would want a woman I’ve already worn out.”
The auctioneer turned to me with a cold expression. According to protocol, he had to confirm.
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“If you intend to offer unlimited bidding, you’ll need to register with the house and verify proof of funds. We need to ensure you can cover it.”
I clenched my jaw so tightly it hurt. My whole body felt drained as if someone had sucked the life out of me.
My eyes burned red with tears, but I forced myself to stay upright.
“No problem,” I said, my voice barely steady.
A snort of laughter broke the tension. One man stood up from his seat, leaning forward to stare at me, voice thick with derision.
“Ms. Sullivan, come on now. Stop pretending. That trashy company of yours? We’re the ones who bet on taking it down ourselves. No one knows better than we do just how little you have left. You dragging this out isn’t fooling anyone.”
Laughter erupted around the room.
My heart felt like it was being sliced open as I looked toward Jackson. He met my gaze without flinching, his face calm, almost smug.
“What? Thinking about begging me now?” he said. “Sorry—you’re too late.”
Then he turned to the auctioneer, who was still waiting for a final confirmation.
“If Ms. Sullivan wants to put on a show, let’s help her out,” Jackson said. “You guys all still have time, right?”
That got a round of knowing laughter.
“Of course,” someone called. “This is exactly why we came today-
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good company and good entertainment. If the clown insists on performing, we’d be fools not to enjoy the act.”
I tore my eyes away and shut them tightly for a moment, then forced myself to my feet and stepped onto the stage.
From my phone, I pulled up a digital bank card and handed it to the auction house attendant, who had come up with a verification device.
Down below, the crowd buzzed with schadenfreude, pointing and whispering like spectators at a freak show.
“She’s such a joke. Honestly, she acts better than half the girls working the nightclubs. Like mother, like daughter–this kind of talent must run in the blood.”
“Seriously, look at her hands–they’re shaking! I bet she won’t even be able to stay standing after the funds check.”
