Captive Princess

The auction began.

I clutched my bidding paddle, my eyes fixed on the stage, waiting for lot number 47.

Finally, the auctioneer held up the pearl necklace.

"Lot number 47, a stunning pearl necklace. Bidding starts at five hundred thousand dollars."

I immediately raised my paddle. "Five hundred thousand."

"One million," Isabella's voice chimed in from beside me.

I turned to look at her. Isabella was smiling, holding her own paddle high.

"One point five million," I countered, my voice tight.

"Two million," Isabella said without a flicker of hesitation.

The price began to skyrocket.

Three million, five million, eight million...

My palms grew sweaty. My lawyer had said my assets were worth fifteen million, but the bidding was already approaching twenty.

"Twenty million," Isabella raised her paddle effortlessly, as if naming a trivial sum.

The auctioneer looked at me. "Ma'am, do you wish to continue?"

My hand trembled. I couldn't raise the paddle again.

I didn't have enough money.

All eyes in the room were on me, including Vincent's.

I swallowed my pride and turned to him.

"Vincent, lend me the money," my voice shook. "Please. It was my mother's necklace. It's the only thing she left me."

Vincent looked at me, a complex, unreadable emotion in his eyes. Just as he was about to reach for his black card...

Isabella turned to him too, her voice a sweet, cloying whine. "Vincent, I've never had anything nice in my whole life. This is the first time I've ever loved a piece of jewelry this much. Can you please ask Sophia to let me have it?"

She tugged on his sleeve, her eyes wide and pleading.

Vincent's gaze shifted between me and Isabella.

Those few seconds felt like a century.

"Let Isabella have it," Vincent finally said, his voice terrifyingly calm.

My world collapsed.

"Twenty million, going once!" the auctioneer's voice boomed.

"Twenty million, going twice!"

I wanted to scream, to beg Vincent again, but the words were stuck in my throat, choked by betrayal.

"Twenty million, sold!"

The moment the gavel fell, my heart died completely.

Isabella clapped excitedly, then turned to me. "Sophia, thank you!"

The triumph on her face was undisguised.

After the auction, Vincent left to get medicine for Isabella, who was suddenly claiming to have a headache.

I sat alone on a plush sofa in the lounge, watching the staff pack up the remaining lots.

Ten minutes later, Isabella came backstage and walked up to me.

I stood up to face her.

"Isabella, I'll trade you for the necklace. Anything."

"Like what?" Isabella raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"I have a Ferrari, and some designer watches. The total value isn't twenty million, but give me some time, and I'll get you the rest..." I struggled to keep my voice steady. "Just give me back the necklace."

Isabella shook her head. "I don't need any of that."

"Then what do you want?"

Isabella feigned a thoughtful expression, then a cruel smile spread across her face. "I want you to get on your knees and beg me for it."

"What?"

"Kneel. Apologize for how you've treated me. And then beg me to give you the necklace," Isabella's eyes glinted with malice. "You were so awful to me before. Now it's your turn to beg."

I stared at her, my fists clenched at my sides.

But the thought of my mother's necklace, my last link to her, made me slowly, agonizingly, begin to bend my knees.

"Good girl. But first, let me show you where the necklace is now." Isabella laughed triumphantly and took out her phone.

She played a video and held it in front of my face.

On the screen, a filthy stray dog was wagging its tail. Draped around its neck was a string of lustrous pearls.

My mother's necklace.

"See? This is where it belongs now," Isabella smiled sweetly. "I think it's a perfect match. A bitch for a bitch."

My blood ran cold.

"What did you say?"

"I said, a bitch for a bitch," Isabella put her phone away, her smile unwavering. "Wasn't your mother a bitch? She deserved to be hit by that car. Now her necklace is on a dog. It's fitting, don't you think?"

"Which hand did you use to put it on the dog?" my voice was a whisper, so quiet I could barely hear it myself.

"My right hand. Why?" Isabella was still smiling, savoring her victory.

The next second, I snatched a steak knife from a nearby catering table and plunged it straight through the back of her right hand, pinning it to the tablecloth beneath.

Blood gushed out. Isabella let out a piercing, agonized scream.