The Wife Auctioned For One Dollar Chapter 05
Damien Hawthorne.
New York’s premier investor. Godfather of the Hawthorne family.
Three years ago, when I was still working investment banking on Wall Street, I’d happened to save his life during an assassination attempt targeting his family.
I never imagined I’d see him again here—like this.
I took an instinctive step back.
My hand moved to shield my belly without thinking.
Damien’s gaze swept over the mask on my face, then settled on my stomach.
He walked to the desk and picked up the freshly printed auction transfer agreement.
“Take off the mask.”
His tone was even.
“Evelyn Hart.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
He’d recognized me.
I bit my lip, then reached up and removed the mask I’d worn on that auction stage for five years.
I lifted my chin and met his eyes.
“Don Hawthorne, thank you for stepping in back there.”
“I’ll find a way to pay you back.”
Damien didn’t acknowledge the offer.
He reached into his suit pocket, pulled out a clean handkerchief, and held it out to me.
“Wipe your face.”
I hadn’t even realized my forehead was drenched in cold sweat.
“Don’t thank me just yet.”
He pulled out a chair, sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and studied me with those deep, unreadable eyes.
“You’re the woman I just paid ten million dollars for. I don’t need your gratitude.”
I watched him warily.
“Then what do you want?”
Damien smiled—an unexpected thing.
“I want you to…”
The blood drained from my face. I opened my mouth to refuse.
His long fingers tapped the desktop once, cutting me off.
“I want you to work with me.”
“When Vito signed the transfer papers just now, he left a receiving account.”
“It belongs to Lily Monroe. An offshore account.”
Damien slid a photocopy across the desk.
Printed clearly on it was a transfer record: one million dollars.
“You now have ironclad proof that he’s moving marital assets.”
He leaned forward, eyes sharp as a blade.
“Stop crying, Evelyn.”
“Let’s talk about how to destroy your husband and his mistress.”
I stared at the photocopy.
Tears welled in my eyes, but I forced them back down.
Crying was the most useless thing in the world.
That suffocating, airless despair on the auction stage had already burned away the last trace of softness left in me.
“Why would you help me?”
I looked up at Damien.
Businessmen never made moves without profit—least of all a corporate shark like Damien Hawthorne, the kind who devoured people whole and didn’t bother spitting out the bones.
“Your husband Vito is bidding on the South Brooklyn waterfront redevelopment project. But the real player behind the scenes is the Romano family—they’re using his company, Vitale Group, as a shell to extend their reach into Brooklyn’s docks, real estate, and shipping lanes.”
Damien leaned back, his tone almost lazy.
“The Romano family happens to be the Hawthorne family’s biggest headache these past few years.”
“Now imagine if, at this critical juncture, the CEO of Vitale Group were exposed for involvement in human trafficking, asset diversion, and the abuse of his pregnant wife…”
“Vito gets thrown to the wolves as a sacrificial pawn, and the Romanos get dragged into the scandal with him.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t you think that’s more effective than any corporate takedown?”
Flawless business logic.
“Fine. I’ll work with you.”
I tucked the photocopy into my bag.
“But I have one condition.”
“Name it.”
“I want to skin him alive. Personally.”
The words came through clenched teeth.
Damien held my gaze for a long moment.
“Deal.”
“The ten million from the auction will be wired to Lily’s account tomorrow.”
He stood and walked over to me.
“Go home, Evelyn.”
“For now, pretend you don’t know a thing.”
“I look forward to your performance tomorrow.”
…
Two in the morning.
I pushed open the front door.
Vito was on the couch, a glass of whiskey in hand.
At the sound of the door, he turned immediately, set down the glass, and came to meet me.
“Sweetheart, you’re finally home.”
He pulled me into his arms, resting his chin gently against the top of my head.
“Where have you been? I couldn’t get through on your phone. I was going out of my mind.”
His voice was so tender it could break your heart.
If I hadn’t heard him, just hours ago, announce a one-dollar starting bid through a voice distorter, I truly would have been fooled by this mask of the perfect husband.
I swallowed my nausea and stood rigid in his embrace.
“I was out with friends. Phone died.”
My voice was quiet.
“Are you hungry? There’s chicken soup warming in the kitchen. Let me get you a bowl.”
He brought the soup and lifted the spoon to my lips.
I didn’t open my mouth.
“Vito.”
I stared straight into his eyes.
“I had a terrible dream tonight.”
His hand stalled. A drop of soup spilled from the spoon and hit the rim of the bowl.
“What did you dream about?”
His smile was flawless.
“I dreamed I was kidnapped. Thrown onto some dark stage, sold off like an object.”
I watched for every microscopic shift in his expression.
“And the man calling out the bids—the one selling me—his voice sounded…”
“A lot like yours.”
The spoon clinked against the bowl with a sharp, clean sound.
Vito’s pupils contracted—just for an instant.
But he recovered beautifully, reaching out to feel my forehead.
“What are you talking about?”
His voice carried that indulgent, aren’t-you-being-silly warmth.
“Pregnant women get anxious. Nightmares are normal. I’m your husband—why on earth would I sell you?”
“Besides, who would dare buy my wife?”
He pinched my cheek.
“Drink your soup and get some rest. Lily said she’s coming by tomorrow to see you. She’s bringing some prenatal supplements.”
Lily was coming.
I lowered my eyes, hiding the frost beneath them.
“Sure.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen her.”
*If you two love the stage so much, then I’ll play my part. And we’ll see this show through to the final curtain.*