365 Shots of Betrayal_My Boyfriend Auctioned Off My Private Photos

How could I possibly compete with them?

"I'm going to the restroom." I wiped my tears in haste and turned to leave the hall. If I didn't walk out now, I would completely fall apart in front of them.

Laughter erupted behind me.

"So even sluts have pride, huh? Hahaha!"

"Mr. Willis, don't wait for her. She thinks ten million is enough to play with us? What a joke! She just doesn't dare admit she's broke—ran off using the bathroom as an excuse!"

"Shut up." Brandon's voice sliced through the noise like a blade, cold and absolute.

He stared in the direction I'd gone. The room instantly fell silent. No one dared challenge him.

A few minutes later, I pushed the door open again.

I walked back in, still under the blinding lights and took my seat without hesitation. My eyes were red, but my gaze was steady. "Let's begin."

Brandon turned to me and for a brief second, surprise flickered in his eyes.

To showcase the photos more clearly, the screen behind the auctioneer had been replaced with a panoramic wraparound display. It cycled through images of my humiliation in high definition, a full 360-degree broadcast. No matter where one sat in the room, every degrading angle of me was there to enjoy.

"First photo," the auctioneer said with a knowing smile. "Starting bid, five hundred thousand!"

A collective gasp swept through the hall.

"Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful! A perfect fusion of elegance and depravity. Trust Miss Graham, the daughter of a scholarly family, to be this wild in bed."

"Seven hundred and a half!"

The screen flashed again, not just the photo—but a written scene accompanying it. I stood up abruptly. It was a vivid narrative, describing the precise moment the photo was taken. My wedding night with Brandon.

The wording, the rhythm... it was too detailed, too intimate. Only one other person could've written something like that.

I turned toward Brandon, trembling. He sat there, detached, a faint sneer curled at the corners of his mouth, like none of this had anything to do with him. Only when Maisy leaned in to whisper did his expression soften—gentle, affectionate.

Around me, the crowd roared louder, excitement rippling through them like a wave.

"And I thought the pictures were hot—turns out the story behind them is even steamier! Hands off, everyone! Two million! That photo's mine!"

"Three million!"

"She was this wild on her first night? Can't even imagine what happened afterward... Tsk, tsk. Five million!"

"I'm keeping my bid open!" My own trembling voice broke through the din.

All eyes snapped to me.

The auctioneer kept his practiced smile as he turned in my direction. "Bidder 38 wants to keep her bid open—are you certain?"

I sank back into my seat. My voice was barely audible. "I'm sure."

"Tsk! Shame. That one's a real masterpiece."

"What are you worried about? How many can she even afford to burn?"

"Exactly. The deeper it goes, the dirtier it gets. The real gold is in the later photos."

"Bidder 38 has chosen to keep her bid open!" the auctioneer announced with relish. "Anyone else? Going once... going twice... Congratulations to Miss Graham for securing the photo!"

I shut my eyes. My fingernails dug deep into my palms until I could feel warm blood.

The screen transitioned immediately. The second photo appeared—along with a new introduction.

"Second photo. Starting bid, five hundred thousand!"

The crowd erupted once more.

"This one's real? Damn! Hotter than every training video I've ever seen."

Someone near me leaned in and nudged my arm with his elbow.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk! Never would've guessed. You look so innocent—but underneath it all, you're just a filthy little thing."

I glared at him.

He laughed, unbothered. "Hey, I like girls like you! Mr. Willis doesn't want you anymore—why not come to me? I'll bid on one for you, how's that sound?"

"Don't touch me." My voice was ice.

He snorted and leaned back, bored. "Stop pretending. Just another broken toy. Ten hundred thousand!"

"A million!"

"Three million!"

"I..." My throat was dry, but I forced the words out anyway. "I'm keeping my bid open!"

I had no idea where the strength came from. Maybe it was the last thread holding me together. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was the hope that even if I burned, I'd burn on my own terms.

The auctioneer paused, then gave me a long, meaningful look. He smiled.

"Bidder 38 chooses to keep her bid open!"

The deal was sealed. The auctioneer turned to me again, still wearing that professional smile.