He studied me like I was a dog wagging its tail for scraps.
"Nora, that outfit doesn't even cost five hundred dollars. Can your lover not afford to keep you anymore?"
Snickers rippled through the crowd.
I didn't look at him. I took the Rubik's cube from the child's hand and set it on the table.
Then I raised the bidding paddle.
My voice sliced through the venue, cool and clear. "Fifty million."
The room erupted.
That was the land Liam had been determined to win. The starting price was only twenty million.
The mockery on Liam's face froze solid.
The auctioneer brought the gavel down, nearly vibrating out of his skin with excitement.
A staff member sprinted over clutching a card terminal.
I rolled up my sleeve, exposing the jagged scar running down my wrist.
Decompression sickness had left its brand—proof that I had fought with my life every single day for the past five years.
I swiped my card. Signed. Movements fluid as water.
"Oh, and one more thing." I shoved the black card back into my pocket and met Liam's gaze. "Mr. Farley, if you aren't using your eyes, donate them. Get out of my way."
I took the child's hand and turned to leave.