"I don't want to see your shadow ever again. You—get in the car."
Pushing Vaneesha inside, I warned Louis to stay out of my path.
"Thanks, Mother!" the bastard muttered, hiding the check in his coat.
I despised hearing him call me "Mother." It made me sick to my stomach. But when I saw his wife and her mother arriving, I knew exactly how to make them pay. He'd hide the money instead of using it to pay off his debts, squander it in some brothel, then come crawling back to blackmail me—with the child.
"Mother-in-law! It's been ages. Leaving already?" Carmen, that bootlicker, hated me—but loved my money.
"Hey! Get out of the car, you stupid brat!" Her mother wasn't any better. She tried to yank Vaneesha out of the vehicle.
"I'm taking the child. Louis agreed to make her my maid. Soon my lawyer will arrive to make it official. Is there a problem with wanting someone to help with housework?"
"You… you can't just take our daughter! Louis, how could you? Mother-in-law, please…"
She was putting on the act of a doting mother, but she was nothing more than a bitch desperate for a slave.
"Half a million. That was the deal in exchange for the girl—and I've already written the check. If you don't believe me, ask him to show you."
Pointing at the bastard, I stripped him of the chance to waste it.
They were both stunned by the amount. Without hesitation, Carmen snatched the check and handed it to her own mother.
"We're rich! We can pay off our debts and the mortgage!"
"I'm sorry, mother-in-law. I went too far. Of course you can take her. Vaneesha, give Mommy a hug before you go with Grandma!"
Disgusting. That woman made my skin crawl.
The child had gone pale, curling into the corner of the seat, too afraid to move.
"Enough of this bullshit. I'm late for a meeting. If you're done—move."
I tried to get in, but they blocked me.
"I truly appreciate this kind gesture of yours…"
"When will you learn to shut your mouth? Now I see how the two of you ended up married—you're both insufferable."
I didn't bother hiding my contempt, and her scowl deepened at my words.
The car pulled away, and from the window, Vaneesha watched the image of her so-called parents fade into the distance.
My mansion was large enough for the child to wander without fear of being beaten. I loathed the idea that the filth I birthed had forced an innocent to endure their cruelty. Knowing what trash they were, I called my housekeeper and secretary, Simone.
"Minerva, take the child to bathe and summon the dressmaker. Vaneesha is staying with me now, and she must be presentable. The Moon Room will be hers. Ask for Nelson."
Minerva nodded and took the child away.
"Simone, prepare the adoption papers for that bastard Louis. Also, send notice to every orphanage and children's home—we'll be sponsoring them with monthly donations. But if I find out they've given any child to those scum, I'll cut every penny without hesitation."
I tossed her a folder. Simone nodded. No Schultz or Blake would lay a hand on someone weaker than them ever again—not if I had anything to say about it.
"Should I do it discreetly?"
"Hehehe… surprise me. Oh! And make sure the Schultzes suspect nothing. As for the Blakes' loan application—triple their interest rate. Reschedule my calendar—I'm attending the auction. That thief isn't walking away with the prize."
Even from afar, I could smell the profit.
The line of cars at the Monami Auction House was impressive. Only a handful of guests with exclusive invitations were allowed in. The crowd outside—onlookers and paparazzi—swelled with excitement.
Every time an auction was announced, journalists swarmed Monami. Only the jet-set elite were admitted, always accompanied by models flaunting the latest designer pieces. Fashion houses took advantage of the free publicity to showcase their newest trends. That's why they came—not just to see what was in style, but to witness the people who truly ran the world… the crème de la crème.
Monami was the most renowned and luxurious auction house in the world. Its eccentric owner, Mr. Terry Kingston, possessed the fortune of the Givenchy diamond empire. Though it didn't seem possible, he'd made his first million less than fifteen years ago.
He was a billionaire bachelor, a collector, philanthropist, and patron of nearly every artist imaginable. He also founded the illustrious Gropius School of Art, Design, and Urbanism.
Though in his late thirties, he retained a striking youthful appearance—long platinum blonde hair and features that left women swooning. His list of occasional lovers filled volumes, yet oddly, no woman ever stirred scandal after spending the night with him. No one understood why… but the truth was, he made them sign ironclad NDAs to keep gossip at bay.
He wasn't stupid. He'd even had a vasectomy—better to die than leave his fortune to some gold-digging opportunist. While he did have three children, they were secured long ago. Each would inherit an equal share of Givenchy's assets—and holdings in various companies.
His luck had turned fourteen years ago, back when they lived in the slums.
Terry's wife had abandoned him for a lover, leaving him alone with three young children. He took job after job to support them, but misfortune hounded him.
He was fired from the jewelry shop. He tried working as a guard at the opera house, then the museum—but never lasted long. Desperate, he even posed as a model for a failing painter, who told him about a more profitable gig. That's how Terry ended up as a gigolo for wealthy married women. But even that wasn't enough.
When his youngest son was diagnosed with a critical heart defect and would die without surgery before turning eight, Terry begged his in-laws for help. They slammed the door in his face, disowning him.
With no one to turn to, he was ready to give up—until he met Deirdre Stern.
Instead of hiring him for his usual services, she made him her assistant in exchange for paying for the surgery. Using his charm to seduce the wives of powerful men, Terry funneled information back to her—intelligence she could use to destroy the competition or gain advantage.
He built a reputation as a tireless lover, but in truth, he was weaving a web of power. And when he succeeded, Deirdre rewarded him.
She brought him to a barren land near the border, where a group of unemployed miners waited. Handing him ownership documents, she declared him her business partner in public, and her informant in secret.
That land held the richest diamond mine ever discovered. Terry became a millionaire, selling his soul to the devil—like so many others before him.
He owed his life—and his children's lives—to the woman who saw his potential when no one else did. She helped him eliminate both his in-laws and his ex-wife to prevent them from ever coming after him again.
So today, he'd invited her once more to a very particular auction.
"The Formands spent half a fortune on those tickets," said Terry, lighting Deirdre's cigarette and pointing to a jeweled headband in the display case.
"I'll take it back slowly… outbidding each one. This time, it's mine. No one will take it from me again."
The diamond and ruby headband that the Formands had stolen from her as a child was a gift from Deirdre's real mother. It had been sold for nothing, caked in dirt and mud. But years later, when a cleaned replica appeared in a Tsarist relic exhibition, the truth emerged: it was no imitation.
The Desert Rose—its name—was a one-of-a-kind, custom-made piece. Its original owner? The vanished son of the late Tsar of D'Agostini.
When Deirdre found the original, she wanted it back. But so did the Formands. If word got out that it belonged to Deirdre Stern, she'd be publicly marked as the illegitimate granddaughter of the Tsar.
But Deirdre had no desire to revive a fallen empire's legacy. She already had enough power to crush them without invoking her bloodline.
"When I win it, have it delivered immediately. Vaneesha will be its new owner."
Caressing the sleeping child in her lap, Deirdre watched the auction begin.