My heart stopped. Standing by the door, fists clenched, I was about to step forward, but I froze, catching my breath. “No!” I whispered under my breath, pulling my hands to my chest, willing myself not to give in. Without a second thought, I turned and rushed back to my room. I could feel the pull, the magnetic force that drew me toward him, and I knew if I stayed even one second longer, I would fall back into Ethan’s arms. I couldn’t risk it.
As soon as I reached my room, I threw my things into a suitcase and bolted for the airport. I had to leave. I had to get out of this country before I did something I couldn’t take back. I caught the next flight to New York, calling Jason on the way to offer a fake apology, spinning a story about a last-minute client meeting I had to attend. But when I called Jennifer, I told her the truth-about me and Ethan, about everything.
Once I was back in New York, I did everything I could to avoid Ethan. His calls, his messages, any places I knew he might go. For some strange reason, he was ready to get back together, acting as though the last three years hadn’t been filled with endless waiting and disappointment. But I had made up my mind. After all that time, I knew I didn’t want him. Not anymore.
A week later, :the auction.
“That’s the end of the auction, thank you all for coming,” the moderator announced just as Denise suddenly strode in, a painting in her hands.
“That’s not all,” she said with a wide grin. “There’s one more piece.”
She walked over to the moderator, gently taking the microphone from his hands. “This piece is very special to us-the real meaning of *Eye of the Beholder*. It’s our favorite.”
With a flourish, she unveiled the canvas. My breath caught in my throat. It was me. My eyes widened, and I could feel my cheeks flush red. It was the portrait she’d painted of me during that dark time, the one she’d placed in my office to remind me of my worth. Denise had always known how to make me feel confident, even in my lowest moments. She’d painted that portrait of me when I was shattered over Ethan, a constant reminder of my strength.
“This,” Denise said proudly, as the room buzzed with murmurs, “is the essence of strength. Look at this goddess.”
My heart raced as the auction began. The bidding started slow, numbers climbing steadily into the hundreds. Then, just as the room seemed to settle, a familiar voice rang out: “One million dollars.” I whipped around to see Ethan sitting comfortably in the corner, looking completely at ease. I hadn’t even noticed him.
“Two million,” Jason countered immediately, sitting by the front, the perfect boyfriend, helping me organize the event as he always did.
“Ten million,” Ethan declared, upping the stakes, while Jason immediately replied, “Twenty million.”
The room began to stare at them, the tension rising as they continued their back-and-forth bidding, pushing higher until Ethan casually announced, “One hundred million.”
Jason’s face tightened. I knew he couldn’t outbid Ethan. While Jason was wealthy, he was still growing his business and didn’t throw money around as freely as Ethan did. I couldn’t let Ethan win.
“One hundred and twenty million!” I shouted, my voice trembling with determination.
“Two hundred million,” Ethan replied smoothly, his eyes never leaving mine.
Before I realized it, I was the one going back and forth with Ethan over a painting of *me*. A symbol of my freedom from him. I couldn’t let him have it. Not him.
“One billion dollars,” Ethan finally said, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut. I choked, staring at him in disbelief. The room erupted in murmurs, people questioning if it was real, wondering if anyone would actually spend that much.
I couldn’t let this happen. I rushed to the stage, grabbing the mic from Denise’s hands. “There’s been a mistake,” I said, my voice shaky but resolute. “This painting is not for sale.” I glared at Ethan, who smirked, while Jason stood in the crowd with his hands on his head, clearly embarrassed and frustrated.
“Well, I guess that concludes the auction,” the moderator said, awkwardly trying to cover the tension hanging in the air.
As people began collecting their purchases, I noticed Ethan making his way toward me. Panic surged through me.
I ducked out of sight, running toward the makeup room and praying he hadn’t seen me. But just as I was about to close the door, I felt a hand catch it.
Ethan stepped in, his eyes locking onto mine. “Are you avoiding me?” he asked, his voice low, steady.
I swallowed, backing up slightly. “No. I-”
“Why are you running, then?” he pressed, his gaze intense as he stepped closer, the space between us closing.
“I wasn’t running,” I replied, but my voice betrayed me, shaky and uncertain.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed as he studied me. “You’ve been avoiding my calls. My messages. Now you’re running from me at your own event. Why?”
I glanced away, my heart pounding in my chest. “I have my reasons.”
“Your reasons?” he repeated, his voice softening slightly. “Or is it just because you’re afraid of what happens when we’re around each other?”
My stomach twisted at his words. He was right. I was afraid. Afraid of falling back into the cycle, afraid of the hold he still had over me, despite everything. I didn’t trust myself around him.
“Ethan, I don’t want to do this,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
“You’re lying,” he said, his voice low and knowing. He stepped closer, his hand brushing against my arm, sending shivers through me.
I pulled away, my breath catching.
Ethan tilted his head, his expression softening for the briefest moment. “Then why can’t you look me in the eyes and say that?”
I froze, unable to meet his gaze, my mind racing. The truth was, I couldn’t. Not yet. And he knew it.