When I Exposed His Mistress on Live TV

The chandelier light in the Manhattan auction house was blinding. It bounced off crystal champagne flutes and the diamond necklaces of the city’s elite. I sat in the second row, keeping my posture entirely straight. I wore a tailored black suit. It was my armor.

Six years ago, I wouldn't have been allowed in this room. Back then, I was just a bankrupt girl running away to London with a shattered heart. My father had just fallen into a coma, his life’s work stolen. And the people I loved most had stood by and laughed.

Now, I was Amari Pierce, a celebrated designer. I didn't need anyone's permission to be here.

The auctioneer tapped his podium. "Lot 42. A custom-designed men's diamond engagement ring. Flawless cut, platinum band."

An image flashed on the large screen. My chest tightened for a fraction of a second, then went perfectly numb. I knew that ring. I designed it myself. I bought it six years ago for the man I thought I would marry. That was before Hazel Webb smashed a birthday cake in my face while everyone laughed. Before he watched me cry and told his friends I was "just a game."

"Bidding starts at one hundred thousand," the auctioneer announced.

A few paddles went up. I waited. The price climbed steadily to five hundred thousand.

I raised my paddle. "One million."

The room went dead silent. Heads turned to look at me. Whispers broke out like wildfire. A million dollars for a plain men's band was absurd. But I didn't care about the money. I cared about control.

"One million going once," the auctioneer said, his voice booming in the quiet room. "Going twice. Sold."

I didn't smile. I stood up, smoothed my jacket, and went to collect what was mine.

A valet handed me the small velvet box near the exit. I stepped out through the heavy glass doors into the Manhattan night. It was pouring. The rain slashed against the pavement, cold and unforgiving. The chill matched the ice in my veins.

I stood under the awning and opened the box. The diamond caught the dim streetlights. It was a beautiful piece of work. It was also completely worthless to me now.

"Amari."

The voice cut right through the heavy sound of the rain. I froze, but only for a second. I slowly turned my head.

Kai Payne stood a few feet away on the wet sidewalk. Six years ago, he was the untouchable heir to the Payne fortune. He used to wear his arrogance like a second skin, looking at me with a lazy, amused smirk. Now, his dark hair was plastered to his forehead by the rain. His expensive suit was completely soaked. He looked at me with wide, desperate eyes. His chest heaved as if he had run all the way here just to catch a glimpse of me.

"You came back," he breathed. His voice was hoarse. It lacked all of its old commanding power.

I