---- Chapter 5 Khloe Rojas POV: The world narrowed to the glowing screen in my hands. My private photos, intimate moments meant only formy husband, were now plastered online for public consumption. Below them, an elegantly designed invitation detailed the "Khloe Rojas Private Collection Auction," set to take place that very night on a private island. An island Julian had bought for me for our first wedding anniversary, which we' d named 'Our Eden'. The irony was so cruel, it was almost poetic. A tremor started in my hands, spreading through my entire body. The whispers of the shoppers around me faded into a dull roar. This wasn't just a divorce; it was a character assassination. It was a public stoning, and Julian was handing out the rocks. My phone rang, a shrill, invasive sound. It was him. | answered, my voice a strangled whisper. "How could you?" "Did you get my gift?" Julian's voice was laced with a chilling, triumphant amusement. "| thought you might want a souvenir from our marriage before it's officially over. Or perhaps you'd like to bid on a few items yourself? | hear the starting price for that lace thing you wore in Tuscany is quite high." ---- "Take it down, Julian," | said, my voice shaking with a rage so profound it felt like it could liquefy my bones. "Take it all down right now." "The auction starts in two hours," he said, ignoring my demand. "Have fun. Or don't. | really don't care." He hung up. | sat there for a moment, paralyzed by a fury so pure it was almost paralyzing. Then, | moved. | told the clerks to have my purchases delivered and wheeled myself out of the store, Anya trailing behind me, her face pale with shock. Two hours. That's all the time | had. | made a few calls. By the time | arrived at the private dock where boats were ferrying guests to the island, | had secured a line of credit that could buy a small country. | boarded the boat under a false name, my face hidden behind dark sunglasses and a scarf. The island was just as | remembered it, a tropical paradise. But tonight, it felt like my own personal hell. The air was thick with expensive cologne and the smug, predatory laughter of wealthy men. | slipped into the back of the auction hall, my heart pounding a sick rhythm against my ribs. "These men are disgusting," | heard one guest mutter to another. "But you have to hand it to Gallegos. When he decides to destroy someone, he goes all out." "| heard his new girlfriend, Helena Castro, has the same ---- birthday as his ex-wife," his companion replied with a chuckle. "He's throwing her a massive party on this same island tomorrow night. Talk about adding insult to injury." His words were a gut punch. My birthday. Tomorrow. He was going to celebrate with her, on my island, after selling off the last remnants of my privacy. The auction began. Item after item flashed across the screen -a silk robe, a pair of earrings he'd given me, a candid photo of me sleeping. My life, my memories, reduced to lots for leering strangers to bid on. | raised my paddle. | bought every single item. | didn't care about the money. | was buying back my dignity, piece by painful piece. The prices skyrocketed as men, fueled by ego and cruelty, tried to outbid the mysterious woman in the back. But | didn't back down. By the end of the night, | had spent a fortune, but | had won. Everything was mine again. As | left, my face was a stony mask, my emotions locked away behind a wall of ice. | walked past a group of men smoking cigars by the shore, their voices carrying on the night air. "Did you see who bought everything?" one asked. "No idea," another replied. "But whoever she is, she just made Julian Gallegos a very, very rich man. He owned all the items. Every dollar goes straight into his pocket." The ground tilted beneath my feet. This wasn't just about ---- humiliation. It was about profit. He was literally selling our marriage for cash. He had turned our love into a business transaction. | stumbled away before they could see the single tear that escaped and traced a hot path down my cold cheek. He hadn't just erased our love. He had desecrated its corpse for money.