Luna looked at the phone.
Chloe smiled wider.
“They’re calling you the leftovers.”
Something in Luna went very still.
She stepped closer to the camera.
“I was just wondering what it feels like, Chloe.”
Chloe blinked. “What?”
“To be famous for someone else’s desperation.”
The smile fell.
Luna tilted her head.
“You wanted content. Use this angle. It catches the panic better.”
Chloe lowered the phone too late. The livestream had heard everything.
Across the room, Sebastian’s mouth almost smiled.
The auction began after dinner.
The proceeds would fund music scholarships through the Cole Arts Foundation. A rare violin, donated by a European collector, rested beneath glass at the center of the stage.
The auctioneer opened at fifty thousand.
Chloe lifted her paddle.
“One hundred.”
Polite applause.
Luna watched her, then leaned toward Sebastian.
“Does she always perform generosity like a hostage video?”
“Usually with better lighting.”
Luna almost laughed.
Chloe lifted again.
“Two hundred.”
Another bidder joined.
“Two-fifty.”
Chloe glanced at Luna, smirking.
“Four hundred.”
Sebastian leaned close.
“Don’t.”
Luna picked up his paddle.
“Six hundred.”
The room gasped.
Chloe’s face sharpened.
The auctioneer beamed. “Six hundred thousand from Mrs. Cole.”
Chloe raised hers. “Seven.”
Luna looked at the auctioneer.
“Could you remind everyone where the proceeds go?”
“To the Cole Arts Foundation scholarship fund, Mrs. Cole.”
“Perfect,” Luna said. “Then keep going. I’d hate to stop Ms. Vance from supporting young musicians.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room.
Chloe’s smile froze.
If she dropped out now, she would look cheap.
“Eight hundred,” Chloe said through her teeth.
Luna smiled softly.
“What a generous heart.”
Sebastian leaned toward her.
“That was your first kill.”
She looked ahead.
“No. That was a warning shot.”
The victory lasted twelve minutes.
Then Sebastian’s chief of security, Mia Torres, approached him and whispered something that changed his face.
He excused himself.
Luna followed.
In a private corridor lined with oil paintings, Sebastian held a file.
Luna saw the name before he could close it.
ELENA HALE — CONFIDENTIAL MEDICAL RECORDS
Her mother.
The hallway seemed to narrow.
“What is that?”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “You weren’t supposed to see that yet.”
“Yet?”
“Luna—”
She snatched the file from his hand.
Pages spilled open.
Hospital records. Signatures. Timelines. A death certificate. Notes with sections blacked out. A transfer order connected to something called the Vance-Cole Trust.
Luna’s ears rang.
“You investigated my mother’s death?”
“And you said nothing?”
“I didn’t have proof.”
Her hands shook. “You knew it might not have been an accident?”
“I knew there were irregularities.”
Luna stared at him.
For years, she had been told her mother died after a fall down the stairs at a private clinic. A tragic accident. A weak heart. A grieving family. No questions. No accusations. No reopening old wounds.
Now the file in her hands told another story.
Altered records.
Missing footage.
A doctor paid off.
A witness statement withdrawn.
“You married me because of this,” she whispered.
The silence answered.
Luna stepped back.
“I was a lead.”
“No.”
“I was useful.”
“It started as strategy.”
Her laugh cracked.
“There it is.”
He moved toward her.
“It didn’t stay that way.”
“You don’t get credit for falling in love after using someone.”
His face changed, but she was too angry to care.
“You built a case around me,” she said. “You didn’t choose me. You profiled me.”
“I chose you at the altar.”
“After deciding I was convenient.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“You don’t protect people by lying to them.”
Mia appeared at the corridor entrance. “Sir. The car is ready.”
Luna shoved the file against Sebastian’s chest.
“Fine. Let’s go pretend.”
The rest of the evening became theater.
To Mr. and Mrs. Cole.
To partnership.
To legacy.
To family.
Sebastian touched her waist when cameras turned. Luna smiled with her mouth and hated him with her eyes.
After dessert, Evelyn returned.
She appeared at the ballroom entrance in a white coat, her golden hair loose around her shoulders, face pale but perfectly arranged for sympathy. Cameras swung toward her as if dragged by gravity.
Someone gasped.
Chloe whispered loudly, “The real bride.”
Evelyn looked at Luna.
Then at Sebastian.
Then she let tears gather.
“I came to reclaim my life,” she said.