Chapter 3: The Auction of Broken Promises

I figured the money could go to charity—to pay it forward—so I agreed. I was curious to see where they'd end up. I didn't expect Marissa to be there too.

I almost laughed when I spotted her in the crowd. She was clinging to a man in a designer suit, her smile wide and fake.

She hung on the arm of a slick, flashy guy—must be Carter Lee.

He wore too much cologne, his smile all teeth. I recognized the type: all show, no substance.

Sure enough.

He leaned in, whispering in her ear. She giggled, glancing my way. I felt bile rise in my throat.

Marissa looked smug, like she thought she had it all figured out.

She tossed her hair, eyes glittering with triumph. She thought she’d won.

"I knew you couldn't stay away from me, chasing me all the way to the auction."

Her voice was sing-song, taunting. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay calm.

"Alright, I get how you feel. Go home. The three of us will live happily together."

She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, like I should be grateful just to be invited.

Carter Lee gritted his teeth but tried to act magnanimous.

He shot me a look, but forced a smile. "Brother Evan, don't worry. I just want to be with Marissa. I won't compete with you for anything."

He sounded rehearsed, like he’d practiced the speech in front of a mirror.

"My child is your child too. He'll take care of you when you're old."

He reached out to touch Marissa's belly. They exchanged a loving look.

My stomach twisted. I wanted to shout, to throw something, but I just stood there, numb.

My hands clenched tighter and tighter. She'd been my wife for five years, and we'd always been polite, almost distant. Now she was pregnant with this man's child, and they were so affectionate. What did that make me?

I felt invisible—a ghost at my own funeral.

People who didn't know better thought they were a couple and even praised them.

I heard the whispers, the admiring glances. It was like watching a movie where you’re the villain and don’t even know it.

"President Langley and her husband are a perfect match—one's the city's golden girl, the other's a man Grandpa Langley never stops praising."

The crowd murmured approval. I wanted to scream the truth.

Marissa didn't feel the slightest shame, accepting the praise openly.

She smiled, basking in the attention. Her hand lingered on Carter’s arm.

"Ever since I met Carter, my luck has improved so much. The company's profits have soared."

She spoke loudly, making sure everyone heard. Carter beamed, puffing out his chest.

Carter Lee looked at me, smug.

He smirked, raising his chin. "Brother Evan, I've gotten used to going to events with Marissa. All those CEOs only know me."

He was enjoying every second.

"You just don't have my luck, my charm. You don't mind, do you?"

He flashed a toothy grin. I bit my tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Luck? Charm?

All I saw was a dark aura around him, reeking of something rotten.

I studied him, looking for the cracks beneath the surface. He was all flash, no substance. I could smell the desperation on him.

I sneered, about to expose him.

I opened my mouth, ready to tear away his mask, but Marissa cut me off with a glare.

He clung to Marissa's hand, whining, "Marissa, he's glaring at me."

He sounded like a child tattling. Marissa turned, her eyes blazing.

Only then did Marissa look over, furious, not giving me a chance to explain.

She stepped between us, her voice sharp as a knife. "Evan Porter, I thought you'd changed, that you'd be generous. I was even going to buy you something as a reward."

She made it sound like I was her pet. I gritted my teeth, swallowing the insult.

"But look at you—how dare you glare at Carter! Get out and think about what you've done."

She waved to the security guards, her voice ringing through the hall. Heads turned. I felt the heat of a hundred eyes on me.

She snapped her fingers, and two burly men in black suits started toward me. I straightened my tie, refusing to look away.

"Who let this fraud in, using my family's name? Why aren't you throwing him out yet?"

Her voice was shrill, echoing off the marble. The manager glanced at me, uncertain.

People started pointing and whispering. Security reached for me. Marissa and Carter waited, hungry for my humiliation.

A ripple of gossip spread through the crowd. I caught a glimpse of Marissa’s smug smile, Carter’s satisfied smirk. They thought they’d won.

I smirked and took out the invitation from Pastor Samuel.

I held it up, the gold-embossed lettering catching the light. The guards hesitated, unsure.

"Who says I came in under the Langley family's name? Open your eyes and look."

My voice was calm, steady.

I taught Pastor Samuel about local history and solved some strange problems for him. Over the years, he became well-known among the wealthy and even had connections at the highest levels. This invitation was the most prestigious at the event. They wanted to throw me out? Dream on.

I remembered the hours spent with Pastor Samuel, poring over old maps, helping him settle disputes in the congregation. He’d become a friend, a mentor. This invitation was more than just a ticket—it was a statement.

The security guards didn't recognize it and assumed it was fake. Egged on by Marissa, they got even more eager to kick me out.

They exchanged glances, sneering. "Looks like a forgery to me," one muttered. Marissa nodded, arms crossed, eyes triumphant.

"You think we're idiots? Trying to fool us with a fake? Guys, get him out of here!"

The guards closed in, rough hands grabbing my arms. I braced myself, refusing to struggle.

I raised my hand, and the manager, recognizing the invitation, rushed over.

He practically sprinted across the room. "Wait! Let him go!"

"Pastor Samuel said he couldn't make it and sent someone even more important in his place."

The manager’s voice boomed, silencing the crowd.

"I've been waiting for you, sir. I almost missed you—please, don't take offense."

He bowed slightly, gesturing to the VIP section.

A security guard, trying to suck up to the Langley family, tugged at the manager.

"He's just a fraud, manager. Don't let him fool you."

The manager slapped him on the head, exasperated.

"You blind fool! This is a custom invitation from the owner for Pastor Samuel."

His words rang out, full of authority. The guard shrank back, face red.

"A fraud? I think all of you are idiots."

He glared at the staff, daring them to argue. The crowd shifted, whispers rising.

Marissa looked stunned, forced to watch as the manager led me to a place of honor.

Her mouth hung open, eyes wide with disbelief. Carter looked like he’d swallowed a lemon.

People started murmuring.

The whispers grew louder. "Who is he? How does he know Pastor Samuel?"

"Pastor Samuel? That pastor? He's a true leader."

Someone in the back nodded, voice reverent. "He’s helped half the city. If he sent this guy, he must be someone special."

"He couldn't make it and sent someone even more important. We should really get on his good side."

I saw a few people eyeing me with newfound respect, eager to introduce themselves.

"Pastor Samuel is a VIP with all the big families. Even the Langley family wouldn't dare offend his people."

The balance of power shifted in an instant. Marissa’s face paled as she realized what she’d done.

Marissa knew Pastor Samuel too. She'd been unlucky since childhood, and Grandpa Langley had tried to get him to mentor her, but was turned away—she only ended up under someone far less accomplished.

She’d always resented it, always compared herself to the other girls in church. Now she watched as I was welcomed with open arms.

Marissa looked at my back, full of resentment. "A nobody like him could never get Pastor Samuel's favor. Who knows how he got that invitation."

Her words were bitter, but no one was listening. The crowd had already moved on.

But no one paid her any attention. In these circles, Pastor Samuel was at the top, and these rich folks cared about nothing more.

It was almost funny—how quickly loyalty shifted when money and status were involved. I sat back, letting it wash over me.

The auction was dull—none of the items were as good as mine. I almost nodded off. Only watching that pair flaunt their affection and envy my seat kept me awake.

I sipped my coffee, fighting a yawn. Marissa and Carter kept sneaking glances my way, their smiles tight.

Soon, my prayer beads went up for auction.

The room buzzed with excitement. The auctioneer’s voice rang out, and the crowd leaned forward, eager.

Marissa, desperate to win them, threw down eight million dollars and finally got them.

Her hand shot up, bidding higher and higher. Carter tried to stop her, but she ignored him. When the gavel fell, she squealed, hugging him tight.

Watching her jump for joy after winning, I couldn't understand it.

She looked so happy, so sure she’d finally gotten what she wanted. I just shook my head, wondering what it all meant.

Marissa, you tossed aside the cross I painstakingly carved for you, but you spent all your liquid assets on these beads made from leftover scraps? Ridiculous.

I thought about all the hours I’d spent making that cross, the prayers whispered over it. She never understood its worth.