Called Off the Wedding, Left Him Bankrupt novel 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. "I'm 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.

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