?Chapter 1148:


    Yvonne’s heart stirred, a spark igniting in the gloom. “An auction? That sounds like quite a show.”


    She shed a grin, setting the fruit tter on the coffee table with a soft clink. Then she bounded upstairs, her steps light with sudden anticipation.


    Norton had been differenttely. Banquets, gs—now this? He was up to something. The thought sent a thrill through her, mingling with a flicker of suspicion.


    After a moment’s deliberation, she plucked a pale green gown from its hanger. The fabric shimmered, tailored to embrace her curves like a second skin. Standing before her vanity, she swept on a touch of makeup—subtle blush, a hint of kohl to frame her eyes.


    If Norton wanted to y the doting husband, she would give him a sight to remember.


    Descending the stairs, she caught Norton lounging on the couch, one leg crossed over the other. His eyes snapped to her, widening with a glint of something primal.


    He rose, crossing the room in three strides, his hand finding her waist. His gaze traced her silhouette with unabashed admiration.


    Yvonne arched a brow, gently nudging his hand away. “When do we leave?”


    Norton tugged at his tie, a faint flush creeping up his neck. Clearing his throat, he gestured toward the door.


    At the auction house, ushers swept them to the front row, where velvet chairs awaited.


    Yvonne’s gown caught the light, its pale green hue drawing every eye in the room. She moved with effortless grace, her presence a quietmand.


    From a dim corner, Shelly’s gazetched onto them. Her eyes red at the sight of Norton, but when theynded on Yvonne, venom surged through her veins. Her jaw tightened, her fingers curling into fists.


    Stewart, seated beside her, sensed her distraction. His hand slid to her waist—possessive and unwanted.


    Shelly’s skin crawled, but she masked her disgust with a practiced smile. “Patience, Mr. Carter,” she purred, easing his hand away.


    Every journey starts at gα?ησν????s?c????


    Stewart was like a storm trapped in a man’s body—fidgety, agitated, impossible to settle. Shelly had to summon every ounce of patience just to keep him from spiraling.


    But as she soothed his nerves, her thoughts wandered. The memory of his wandering hands reignited a surge of disgust. The me settled like a stone in her chest—heavy and unshakable.


    If not for Yvonne, she would be the one on Norton’s arm. Stewart had lured her to the auction with promises of jade earrings, but now, seeing Yvonne radiant and untouchable, her resentment burned hotter than ever. One day, he’ll be mine.


    The auctioneer’s gavel struck, and items shed across the stage. Norton and Yvonne watched with polite disinterest, their attention elsewhere.


    Shelly, meanwhile, ignored the bidding, her eyes boring into Yvonne’s back.


    After a stretch of time, Yvonne leaned toward Norton, her voice a soft murmur. “I need to step away for a moment.”


    He nodded, signaling a server with a flick of his wrist. “Please take her to the restroom,” he instructed, his tone clipped but calm.


    .


    .


    .