Ch. Called Off the Wedding 10 Called Off the Wedding 10

Chapter 10 

The private boxes at the auction were separated by sliding partitions–easy enough to move aside if both parties wished. The people who attended these events were either wealthy, powerful, or at least hoping to buy their way into a better world. The organizers were more than happy to encourage this mixing, so long as everyone agreed to play by the rules: unlock the latch, slide the partition, and the evening could take a very different turn. 

After a lull in the bidding, someone knocked on the partition next door. 

Cynthia made no move to respond, her gaze fixed on the stage below. 

But Jocelyn, never one to resist a bit of mischief, stood and flipped the latch open, pushing the panel just wide enough for a sliver of conversation. 

Cynthia arched an eyebrow, and her eyes met Benedict’s–his tall frame stood outlined in the opening, his dark gaze shadowed by annoyance. 

She met his look with complete indifference, as if she were glancing at a stranger in a crowded restaurant, then turned away and addressed Jocelyn in a tone as cool as glass. 

“Shouldn’t you sit down and actually watch the auction?“% 

Jocelyn grinned, clearly in high spirits. Tm just curious what kind of nonsense people are fighting over tonight.” 

She and Cynthia had grown up together, thick as thieves until a few years back, when Cynthia’s stubborn affair with a man had driven a wedge between them. Eventually, they reconciled, but Jocelyn had never cared to meet Benedict–this was their first face–to–face 

Cynthia pursed her lips, silent. Jocelyn’s words had managed to insult Benedict and, by extension, perhaps Cynthia too.” 

Benedict’s expression darkened further. He started to step forward, but Jocelyn, smirking, blocked his way. Instantly, the bodyguard, stationed in the shadows behind her moved up, shielding her with a practiced stance. 

“This is my box,” Jocelyn said, voice sharp. I don’t let just anyone wander in,” 

Benedict ignored her, his eyes fixed on Cynthia, who sat with effortless poise. 

“Cynthia, come here,” he demanded 

Cynthia’s lips quirked in a faint, dismissive smile. “If I did, your little darling in there might not take it so well. I’d hate to ruin your fun.” 

Giselle, seated beside Benedict, went pale, her body stiff with mortification. 

Benedict’s jaw tightened, his gaze hard as flint. 

Jocelyn gestured for the bodyguard to close the partition, but Benedict blocked it with a cold, steady hand. 

The tension in the box was immediate–a drawn wire, waiting to snap.@ 

“Are you sure you’re not coming?” Benedict’s tone was low, a warning.8 

Cynthia nodded. “Absolutely.” 

She remembered all too well the days she’d tiptoe around his moods, sacrificing her own peace just to keep him happy. Those days were over she wouldn’t blink even if he made a scene. 

“Mrs. Shepard, we were only joking,” another man piped up, eager to smooth things over, “You and Mr. Shepard are about to be married, surely-” 

Jocelyn cut him off without hesitation. “Shut your mouth. Don’t lump Cynthia in with him–she’s not married, and she’s certainly not tied to that piece of trash 

Her voice carried, and suddenly the entire row of boxes fell silent! 

The man shrank back, eyeing the insignia on the bodyguards” suits. He’d recognized the crest–top–tier security, the kind you only hired if you had money to burn. Seven figures, at least. Not the sort of company you expected from a girl supposedly from a modest background. 

How did Cynthia know people like this? And not just know them–clearly, they were close. 

The others, sensing the shift, stayed wisely silent. 

Giselle’s eyes brimmed with tears. Humiliated, she got up from her seat her face stark with wounded pride 8