Phillip's words rang in my ears, sharp and unforgiving. Your husband and your sister don't respect you at all. The more I replayed them in my mind, the more they gnawed at me, burrowing into my thoughts like a splinter. I tried to push them away, to convince myself it wasn't true. Maybe it wasn't what it seemed. Maybe if I stayed quiet and kept the peace, things would go back to normal. Maybe Desmond and Tila weren't really like that. Maybe... maybe.
But just as I gathered the strength to confront them, a woman in a rich green dress appeared in front of me, blocking my path. She was tall and poised, the kind of woman who commanded attention without saying a word.
"Excuse me, young lady," she said, her voice crisp and authoritative. "I've been looking for Mrs. Josey, but she seems to be nowhere. Can you help me?"
I forced a polite smile, my heart still pounding in my chest from the confrontation I had just walked away from. "Of course. What can I help you with?"
The woman pointed to a painting hanging nearby, an image of a serene mountain at sunrise. "This piece caught my eye. Can you tell me more about it?"
I glanced at the painting, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "This one is called Golden Peaks," I explained, my voice steady despite the storm swirling inside me. "It's part of a limited collection. The artist focused on capturing the natural beauty of untouched landscapes. It's highly sought after."
The woman studied the painting, her eyes narrowing as she took it in. I couldn't help but feel a strange unease watching her scrutinize the work so intently. She was evaluating it, assessing its worth. Finally, she spoke again.
"And how much is it worth?" Her tone was calculated as if she already had an idea but wanted confirmation.
I hesitated, then responded carefully. "It's one of the higher-priced pieces. The artist's work is known to appreciate over time."
The woman hummed thoughtfully, her eyes glinting. "I like it. I'll bid for it."
Relieved that our conversation had shifted away from my turmoil, I nodded. "If you have any other questions, please don't hesitate to ask."
She smiled briefly, her attention shifting to the man standing behind her. He wore a sharp suit and gloves, his eyes focused intently on another painting. Unlike the other guests, who admired the art with appreciation or curiosity, this man seemed to study it with something else—almost as if he were analyzing every detail, measuring its worth with a critical eye. I frowned slightly, but before I could dwell on it, the auctioneer's voice boomed through the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the auction is about to begin! Please take your seats."
The woman in green nodded at her companion, and they moved toward the seats, leaving me to watch them with a mixture of curiosity and unease. I turned back toward Desmond and Tila, my gaze drifting to them almost involuntarily. They were standing closer now, laughing together as if nothing in the world could disrupt their little bubble. My heart clenched painfully, but I forced myself to look away and focus on the auction. It was the only thing I could control right now.
The auction began, the first few pieces selling quickly. The buzz of excitement in the room was palpable as paddles shot up, the auctioneer calling out numbers with rapid precision. But when Golden Peaks was brought forward, the rich woman in green immediately raised her paddle.
"Fifty thousand dollars. Do I hear sixty?" the auctioneer called.
I held my breath as another paddle shot up, the bidding escalating with each new bid. The numbers climbed higher and higher, and I could feel my heart race. I knew how important this piece was to Josey. Selling it for a high price would mean a huge profit for her—a victory in her never-ending pursuit of status and wealth. But what did it mean for me?
Finally, the woman in green raised her paddle once more. "One hundred and fifty thousand dollars," she called out, her voice firm.
A hush fell over the room. The auctioneer looked around, scanning the crowd for any competing bids. "One hundred and fifty thousand going once, going twice… Sold!" he called, striking the gavel with a finality that echoed in the room.
Polite applause followed, but the woman in green raised her hand again, her smile tight and controlled. "Before I finalize payment, I'd like to have the painting authenticated."
A wave of unease washed over me. Something about her tone made it clear she wasn't going to let this go without scrutiny. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what would come next.
Josey was quick to step forward, her confident smile never wavering, even as the air grew thicker with tension. "There's no need for that, madam," she said smoothly. "We only sell genuine works here. Our reputation is flawless."
The woman's smile remained cold, her gaze piercing. "I'm sure it is," she replied, her voice laced with skepticism. "But I prefer to be cautious. Please, humor me."
The man in gloves stepped forward, his movements deliberate as he pulled out a small magnifying glass. He began examining the painting closely, running his fingers along the edges of the frame as if searching for some hidden flaw. The room watched in tense silence, every eye trained on the scene unfolding before them.
Josey's expression began to tighten. "This is highly unnecessary," she said, her voice losing its usual smoothness. "The painting is authentic."
The man with the magnifying glass didn't respond. He only stepped back, whispering something to the woman in green. My stomach twisted as I watched her face darken, her lips pulling into a thin, disapproving line.
"This painting is a fake," she said loudly, her voice cutting through the room like a knife.
A shocked gasp rippled through the crowd. The air seemed to freeze, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Josey's face went pale, her mask of confidence slipping away entirely. "That's impossible!" she stammered. "You must be mistaken."
The woman stepped closer, her gaze icy. "Do not insult my intelligence. The paint is cheap, the strokes lack precision, and the frame is poorly crafted. You thought you could fool me?"
Josey tried to speak, but her words were caught in her throat. Before she could finish, the woman raised her hand and slapped her across the face with a sharp crack that echoed through the room.
The room was dead silent.
"How dare you try to sell me a counterfeit?" the woman hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "You've embarrassed yourself in front of everyone here."
Josey's hand flew to her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. She couldn't speak. The crowd was still, no one daring to make a sound as the tension thickened in the air.
The woman turned to the crowd, her voice loud and commanding. "Let this be a lesson. Always know what you're buying. And to those running this auction—clean up your act, or I'll ensure your reputation is ruined."
With that, she turned on her heel, her companion following her out of the room. The crowd remained frozen for a moment before whispers broke out, guests pointing at Josey, muttering behind their hands.
I stood rooted to the spot, my heart pounding as I watched my stepmother's humiliation unfold in front of me. She stood there, eyes wide, her composure sh
attered, as the murmurs of the crowd became louder and more pointed.