My mafia husband brought his mistress to my birthday party, so I handed her my wedding ring and walked right into his worst enemy's car.

The entire ballroom froze. Waiters stopped mid-step, champagne flutes poised in the air.

Roman gasped, pain shooting through his arm as Dante applied steady, brutal pressure. The veins in Roman’s neck bulged. His pride was being stripped away, thread by thread, in the very room where he had intended to assert his dominance.

“Vale…” Roman wheezed through gritted teeth. “You’re dead. You hear me? You’re a dead man.”

“You talk too much for a man whose bank accounts were frozen an hour ago,” Dante said coldly.

With a dismissive shove, Dante released him. Roman stumbled back two paces, clutching his sprained wrist, his face twisted in humiliation.

Two security guards quickly hurried over, but Dante merely flashed a platinum card and whispered a word to the chief of hotel security, who immediately bowed and escorted Roman away from the center floor. Vanessa tried to approach Roman, but he shoved her aside with an oath, storming toward the private terrace doors to nurse his battered ego.

“Are you alright?” Dante asked, turning his full attention back to me. His eyes swept over my hands, checking for any trace of distress.

“I’m better than alright,” I answered, a fierce smile curving my lips. “I want to buy the Moretti Harbor Ledger.”

The auction began ten minutes later.

The highlight of the evening was a nineteenth-century maritime ledger and gold compass that had belonged to my great-grandfather, founder of the Moretti shipping dynasty. Roman had previously placed it in the auction via an anonymous trust to liquidize cash, fully intending to buy it back through a puppet bidder to launder funds.

“We start the bidding at five hundred thousand dollars,” the auctioneer announced.

Roman, standing at the back of the room with a glass of scotch, raised his paddle. “Seven hundred thousand.”

“One million,” Dante called out without blinking, lounging back in his velvet chair beside me.

Roman glared across the room. “One point five million!”

“Two million,” Dante said smoothly.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Roman’s face was dark. He couldn't afford this—not with his operational accounts frozen. If he backed down, the room would know he was broke. If he bid higher, his offshore check would bounce by morning.

“Two point two million,” Roman grunted, his voice ragged.

Dante turned to me. “What do you think, Evelyn?”

“Make it count,” I replied softly.

Dante raised his hand. “Three million dollars. Cash, settled immediately with the desk.”

The auctioneer looked around. “Three million going once… going twice…” The gavel struck wood with a sharp *crack*. “Sold to Mr. Dante Vale!”

The applause was polite but electric with shock. Dante stood, offered me his hand, and walked me down the red carpet toward the stage to collect the heirloom. As we passed Roman, I stopped for half a second.

“Thank you for keeping it safe for me, Roman,” I said with a radiant smile. “Now my family’s legacy is back where it belongs.”

Roman’s eyes burned with murder. “This isn't over, Evelyn. You think Vale loves you? He’s using you to gut my empire. When he’s done, he’ll discard you faster than I did.”