Auctioning Ava: A Billion-Dollar Betrayal

Auctioning Ava: A Billion-Dollar Betrayal

Snootie

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My husband, Ethan, the charming CEO of Hayes Innovations, and I were the picture-perfect couple at our anniversary gala. I wanted a sapphire necklace for our milestone, a glimmer of hope for my struggling family art gallery. But then Chloe Vance, Ethan's young intern who always seemed to be by his side, started bidding against me, encouraged by his subtle chuckles. The room watched as I spent five million dollars to win, a public humiliation masked as a playful game. Months later, my family's legacy was systematically crumbling, financial ruin orchestrated with surgical precision. Ethan just offered platitudes, his eyes holding that same unreadable amusement. Then came the clandestine auction notice, a venue filled with predatory energy. There, on a stage, stood Ethan and Chloe, beaming. A massive screen flickered to life, displaying my most intimate moments – 365 private photos and videos Ethan had taken throughout our marriage. "My beautiful Ava," he used to say. Now, my entire life was a public spectacle, being auctioned off for their amusement. I used every last dime of my emergency fund, then liquidated all my personal assets, even old family jewelry. But it wasn't enough. With the crowd's cruel laughter echoing, the auctioneer declared my funds officially depleted. Chloe, my husband's protégé, then offered to pay the next bid, her sweet concern dripping with poison. The abyss opened beneath me. How could he, the man who vowed to cherish me, orchestrate such a public, cruel destruction? Why was this intern, always by his side, so eager to participate in this calculated torment? Was this his twisted revenge for a simple public slight, or something far deeper, a monster hidden beneath a charming facade? I walked away from the jeering crowd, not to hide, but to make a single, desperate call: "Code Nightingale. I need The Circle. Now."

Introduction

My husband, Ethan, the charming CEO of Hayes Innovations, and I were the picture-perfect couple at our anniversary gala.

I wanted a sapphire necklace for our milestone, a glimmer of hope for my struggling family art gallery.

But then Chloe Vance, Ethan's young intern who always seemed to be by his side, started bidding against me, encouraged by his subtle chuckles.

The room watched as I spent five million dollars to win, a public humiliation masked as a playful game.

Months later, my family's legacy was systematically crumbling, financial ruin orchestrated with surgical precision.

Ethan just offered platitudes, his eyes holding that same unreadable amusement.

Then came the clandestine auction notice, a venue filled with predatory energy.

There, on a stage, stood Ethan and Chloe, beaming.

A massive screen flickered to life, displaying my most intimate moments – 365 private photos and videos Ethan had taken throughout our marriage.

"My beautiful Ava," he used to say.

Now, my entire life was a public spectacle, being auctioned off for their amusement.

I used every last dime of my emergency fund, then liquidated all my personal assets, even old family jewelry.

But it wasn't enough.

With the crowd's cruel laughter echoing, the auctioneer declared my funds officially depleted.

Chloe, my husband's protégé, then offered to pay the next bid, her sweet concern dripping with poison.

The abyss opened beneath me.

How could he, the man who vowed to cherish me, orchestrate such a public, cruel destruction?

Why was this intern, always by his side, so eager to participate in this calculated torment?

Was this his twisted revenge for a simple public slight, or something far deeper, a monster hidden beneath a charming facade?

I walked away from the jeering crowd, not to hide, but to make a single, desperate call: "Code Nightingale. I need The Circle. Now."

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The soft glow of three monitors was my world, lines of code and complex algorithms my language. Tomorrow was the IPO, the culmination of years of tireless work building Nexus from the ground up with my live-in boyfriend, Mark Davis, CEO of ConnectCorp. But then, the office door hissed open, revealing Chloe Miller, Mark' s new Head of Product and my old college rival. Her voice, dripping with fake sweetness, announced, "The board and I have had a discussion. We've decided to let you go." I blinked, the words echoing, "You're firing me? The day before the IPO?" She sneered, calling me redundant, uncommitted, just a "coder." Then, with a predatory smile, she whispered, "I'm going to be the First Lady of Tech... You were just a gold-digger who got lucky. Your time is up." Rage surged as I reached for my phone to call Mark, but Chloe snatched it, answering and feigning distress. "Mark? Oh, thank god," she sobbed into the phone, "It's Ava... she's going crazy. She's threatening me... I'm scared." The crowd gathered, their judgmental eyes painting me as the unstable villain. Mark stormed in, his handsome face contorted with fury, not at Chloe, but at me. "What did you do to her?" he snarled, immediately comforting Chloe. "She's lying," I pleaded, "She fired me." "I heard the whole thing, Ava! You're harassing my Head of Product. I can't believe you." Then, he slapped me. The sting on my cheek was nothing compared to the shock that cleared everything: the late-night meetings, Chloe's perfume, their triumphant glances. "You're sleeping with her," I stated, not a question. He didn't deny it, dismissing my years of dedication. "You were just the help," he spat, "A glorified typist." "A code monkey," Chloe added, snuggling into his side. The final blow came when I demanded my share, only for Chloe to brandish a marriage certificate-hers and Mark's, dated three months ago. "The one we have is a fake, Ava," Mark confessed, his voice devoid of emotion. "It was just a piece of paper to make you feel secure. It never meant anything." My world shattered. "You have no equity, Ava. You were an employee. And now, you're a fired employee." He tossed me a grimy key, "As a severance package, you can have our first apartment. The one you loved so much with the leaky ceiling." They wanted the core Nexus algorithms, the encryption keys, everything. I pulled the small, black USB drive from my laptop. Then, with all my strength, I threw it between them. "You want it? Find it." I walked away, leaving the wreckage of my old life behind, a spark of cold fury igniting a new resolve.

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