Chapter 2

Yvonne's POV

Harrison Foster looked slightly tense.

Without looking up, I continued pulling things out of the closet.

"Throwing out what needs to be thrown out to make room for the new."

Thinking I was just rotating my seasonal wardrobe, Harrison Foster let out a visible sigh of relief. He smiled and walked over, patting my head.

"Good idea. Throw them out. I'll take you shopping for new ones in a couple of days."

I forced a faint smile but said nothing.

Harrison stopped focusing on me and looked down at his phone.

A smile tugged at his lips, his expression filled with a relaxed sense of anticipation I had never seen on him before.

While scrolling through his phone, he handed me an auction catalog and a black card.

"Don't go to the office this afternoon. A friend is coming back to the country tonight, and we're holding a welcome dinner. Go to the auction for me and win Lot 37."

I flipped open the catalog, my eyes landing on the designated page.

*Tears of the Stars*—a sapphire necklace once belonging to Queen Victoria's private collection.

The last time it surfaced at an auction was eight years ago, fetching seventy-six million and sending shockwaves through the entire collecting circle.

Since then, the collector had stubbornly refused to part with it.

Its sudden release now came with a staggering starting price of fifty million listed in the catalog.

I understood immediately.

The friend returning tonight was Scarlett Sterling.

And this necklace was meant for her.

And he wanted me to personally bid on it for his true love.

A sharp ache flared in my chest once more. I swallowed hard before speaking.

"What spending limit am I working with here?"

Harrison Foster didn't even look up. "Spare no expense to secure the lot for me."

For Scarlett, he truly spared no expense.

I gripped the catalog tightly.

In all the years we had been together, the gifts Harrison Foster gave me never exceeded two million.

His excuse was that he didn't want Sharon to think I was vain or unworthy of the family's reputation.

I had never complained, because I had never been after his money anyway.

But now I finally realized those were all just excuses.

It was simply because a low-born substitute like me wasn't worth the price tag in his heart.

I slipped the catalog into my bag, pausing for a brief second as I reached for the black card.

This was a black card tied to the corporate account, not Harrison Foster's personal card.

Using this card meant using corporate funds to purchase a personal gift for the president.

I quietly pocketed the card and said nothing.

That afternoon, at the auction.

As *Tears of the Stars* was brought out for the grand finale, the room instantly buzzed with excitement. Buyers raised their bidding paddles one after another.

Starting at fifty million, the bids climbed rapidly.

Eighty million, one hundred million, one hundred and fifty million.

In the end, it was down to a fierce bidding war between myself and a Middle Eastern buyer sitting diagonally across from me.

One hundred and sixty million, one hundred and eighty million.

They were decisive with their bids, but I was even more ruthless.

After all, it wasn't my money. It was Foster Group's.

"Two hundred million."

I raised my paddle, my voice completely flat.

The entire room fell into an uproar.

The auctioneer called it three times before striking the gavel.

*Tears of the Stars* was sold for two hundred million.

The auction house staff came over with the paperwork.

After signing, I handed over the black card and added casually,

"Register the buyer as Scarlett Sterling."

Clutching the briefcase containing the necklace, I went straight to the dinner.

When I pushed open the door to the private room, the place was already packed.

Harrison Foster sat in the middle of the couch, with a woman pressed close to his side.

She bore a striking resemblance to me, looking nearly identical, though her demeanor was far more flamboyant.

It was Scarlett Sterling.

Harrison was leaning in, talking to Scarlett, a rare softness in his eyes.

When I pushed the door open and walked in, he didn't even turn his head.

Charles Ward was the first to see me.

He deliberately cleared his throat.

"Ms. Vance is here."

In front of Scarlett, he had stopped calling me "sister-in-law."

Mason Cole also stood up, nodding politely yet distantly, "Ms. Vance."

Everyone in the room tacitly switched their forms of address.

Scarlett Sterling looked over, her eyes lingering on my face for a moment before she flashed an elegant, poised smile.

"This must be Harrison's girlfriend, right?"

She walked over, tilting her head to look me up and down before speaking in a warm tone.

"Has anyone ever told you that we look a bit alike?"

Harrison Foster's expression tightened instantly, and he opened his mouth to speak.

I had already calmly extended my hand.

"Really? What a coincidence."

Charles Ward quickly rushed over, holding a glass.

"Scarlett, you must be jet-lagged. Sit, sit! We're going to celebrate your return properly tonight."

Mason Cole also smoothed things over.

"All the food has been ordered, and they are all your favorites, Scarlett."

I let go of Scarlett's hand and sat in a corner seat furthest from the center.

Scarlett Sterling sat back down next to Harrison, pulling out a simply wrapped cupcake.

"Harrison, I brought this just for you. Eat it while it's fresh."

Harrison's lips curved upward as he immediately reached out to accept it.

Catching sight of the crushed peanuts on the cake, I blurted out instinctively:

"There's peanut butter in that. You're allergic to peanuts."

The private room fell dead silent.

Scarlett Sterling looked so guilt-ridden she seemed on the verge of tears. She reached out to take the cake back.

"I'm so sorry, Harrison! I didn't know you were allergic to peanuts. Let's just throw it away."

Harrison Foster stopped her, shooting a displeased look in my direction.

"She has a bad memory. I'm not allergic. I can eat it."

Right in front of everyone, he ate the entire cake.

Within ten minutes, Harrison's face flushed, red hives rapidly spreading down his neck as his breathing grew labored and shallow.

Harrison was rushed to the ER.

Sharon Foster rushed to the hospital the moment she heard.

"What happened!"

Charles Ward and Mason Cole stood in the corner with their heads bowed, neither of them daring to speak first.

Just as I opened my mouth, Harrison, lying on the bed, beat me to it, his voice hoarse.

"Yvonne bought the pastry and didn't realize there was peanut butter in it. She didn't do it on purpose. Sharon, don't blame her."

I whipped my head around to look at him.

Charles Ward and Mason Cole spoke up almost simultaneously.

"Sharon, Yvonne didn't mean to. Let's just drop it."

Instead of cooling down, Sharon's rage only flared.

"Drop it? Don't you know how life-threatening Harrison's allergy is? He could have died! You've been with him for three years and you didn't even know this? How dare you still stand here?"

I opened my mouth.

Sharon didn't even give me a chance to explain. She gestured to the bodyguards waiting outside.

"Take her back to the villa."

I was hauled out of the room by two bodyguards.

Harrison kept his head down, refusing to look at me.

I was dragged to the basement of the Foster mansion and forced onto my knees on the freezing stone floor.

Sharon Foster stared down at me with pure disgust and rage.

"You're an orphan with no one to rely on. Harrison was kind enough to take you in, clothe you, feed you, and let you live in a multi-million-dollar mansion. Do you have no self-awareness about your lowly background?"

"You haven't even been able to produce a single child in three years, and now you can't even remember my son's allergens! What right do you have to stay by Harrison's side?"

Sharon's anger mounted. She gestured to a nearby servant, "Get the whip! I'm going to teach her a lesson today!"

I suddenly looked up.

"I'm breaking up with Harrison Foster."

Sharon froze. "What did you say?"

I looked her dead in the eye, keeping my spine perfectly straight.

"I’ll cut all ties with Harrison and vanish from your family’s lives for good."

Sharon Foster stared at me scrutinizingly, as if trying to judge whether I was speaking out of anger or if I was serious.

I didn't avert my gaze.

"But I have one condition."

"Give me fifty million."