When the Auctioneer Falls for My Chauffeur Husband

I had just placed the winning bid on an outrageously expensive piece of jewelry, but the auctioneer refused to close the sale.

When I pressed her for an explanation, she turned to my husband with tearful eyes and claimed that I always bring different men here to spend money.

“Ma'am, as a professional, I can’t sit back and watch you keep deceiving people.

“Sir, I’ll refund your money and even cover the loss myself. Just open your eyes and find someone who truly loves you.”

My husband looked visibly moved, their gazes locking in front of everyone as if I wasn’t even there.

With all eyes on me, I snatched back my black card.

“It’s my card, my money. Why are you giving it to some social-climbing chauffeur?”

After our honeymoon, I wasn’t ready for the fun to end, so I dragged my husband to an auction.

Miss Zimmer, who always had it out for me, kept raising the bid. Not one to back down, I got caught up in the competition and pushed it all the way to 12 million, eventually winning the queen’s crown.

The room fell silent, and no one else placed a bid. Yet, the auctioneer kept staring in my direction, hesitating to bring down the gavel.

I glanced at her and realized she was a new face. I didn’t think much of it, assuming she was just nervous.

When I happily walked onto the stage, eager to see the crown up close, the auctioneer suddenly bit her lip and stepped back.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t take this item,” she said firmly.

I froze, stunned, my mind filled with questions. “I placed the highest bid. Why can’t I take it?”

Her eyes filled with tears, but her gaze was resolute as she looked past me.

“Mr. Quinn,” she said, her voice trembling, “you once helped me. This time, even if it means breaking the rules, I must return the favor!”

I turned around, confused, only to see her and my husband, Zac Quinn, locking eyes.

“Zac, what’s going on?” I asked, my voice sharp.

Zac quickly averted his gaze and wrapped a protective arm around me. His tone turned cold as he addressed the auctioneer.

“This is my wife,” he said. “Miss Smith, I suggest you watch your words.”

The woman, whose name tag read Jamie Smith, widened her eyes in shock.

“You actually married her?” she exclaimed.

Sensing something was off, I narrowed my eyes and looked at her.

“Miss Smith, you’re the auctioneer, and I’m the buyer. I just won this crown, yet you’re refusing to finalize the sale and are questioning my relationship with my husband. Care to explain what’s going on?”

Jamie gritted her teeth and tilted her head slightly, as if trying to hold back tears.

“Mr. Quinn,” she said shakily, “you once helped me, and no matter what, I have to repay that kindness.

“Your wife, Miss Green, has brought different men to our auction house multiple times, spending