The crowd gasped. Applause erupted. Women looked at me with envy, men with respect.
“You are so lucky,” a woman next to me whispered. “He adores you.”
I smiled, waving at the crowd.
That night, the house was quiet again. Or so I thought.
I was heading to the kitchen for water from a sealed bottle I kept hidden—when I heard voices from the study.
“You didn’t bring me,” Denise’s voice hissed, sharp and petulant. “I had to watch the livestream like a peasant. I want jewelry too, Brandon! And what was that show? ‘Nothing is too good for Maureen’? Please.”
I crept closer, pressing my ear to the wood.
“Come on, you’ve become quite the doting husband,” she sneered. “I’m jealous. Everyone is speaking of it online. ‘Husband of the year.’”
“Calm down, baby,” Brandon’s voice was soothing, low. “It’s all part of the act. You know that. I have to keep her happy. I have to keep her unsuspecting.”
“Well, I’m not happy,” she snapped.
“I have something for you,” he said.
There was a rustle of fabric, the snap of a velvet box opening.
“Oh my God,” Denise gasped. “The sapphire necklace! You… you were the anonymous bidder?”