Longing Beneath the Ashes

Laura’s head still spun, heavy and dizzy from blood loss. Before she could react, Benjamin had already scooped her up and deposited her into the car.

Jessica slid in after them, her expression faintly dissatisfied.

At the exhibition hall, Benjamin called his assistant to arrange a change of clothes. None of the gowns presented to Laura fit. In the end, she chose a sleek red evening dress—simple, without elaborate designs or diamond embellishments, yet it accentuated her fair skin with a unique, understated elegance.

Benjamin hated when she wore bright, eye-catching colors, but he’d also forgotten her size. So why wear ill-fitting clothes for someone who no longer mattered?

Once changed, Laura emerged just in time to see Jessica clinging affectionately to Benjamin’s arm—a picture-perfect couple.

"All of these were custom-made for you, Jessica," he said. "This is your first event like this with me. I’ll make sure all eyes are on you."

Jessica wore a handcrafted, midnight-blue gown studded with shimmering gemstones, instantly drawing every gaze in the room. Benjamin moved through the crowd with her, chatting and laughing with the social elite, his wife completely forgotten.

Watching their retreating backs, a wave of bleak despair washed over Laura. Already weakened from blood loss, every step required immense effort just to keep upright.

The auction began. For any lot that held Jessica’s gaze a moment too long, Benjamin immediately raised his paddle.

"Jessica, I’ll buy you anything you like," he announced. "Consider it an engagement present—to make up for not giving you a proper wedding."

Jessica looked genuinely moved. "Benjamin, just being with you is enough."

Even Laura, her heart long turned to ash, felt a wave of nausea at the sight.

This was the man she’d been married to for a decade. The man she’d loved for over ten years.

She shook her head. Benjamin hadn’t brought her here for compensation. He’d brought her to announce to the world that he intended to keep both women.

The aloof gentleman had shown his true colors—vulgar through and through.

"Wow, Benjamin's been sweeping the auction floor for her," someone murmured. "Nothing compares to the lady on his arm, does it?"

Whispers filled the room. Jessica’s cheeks flushed a coy pink at the comments, and Benjamin leaned in to tease her softly.

During the intermission, old family friends and gathered socialites toasted Jessica, their flattery a public slap in the face to the real Mrs. Benjamin.

Laura retreated from the noise. She hadn’t eaten since the hospital, and after having blood drawn far beyond her limit, she was desperate. All she wanted was to find the dessert display, to get some food and replenish her energy.

Noticing this, Jessica extricated herself from her circle and drifted toward the pastry table.

"Hungry, dear?" she asked sweetly. "One doesn't usually graze at events like this."

Laura ignored the deliberate provocation and tried to move away, but Jessica suddenly seized her wrist in a vice-like grip.

*Crash—* The plate in Laura’s hands hit the floor. Every eye in the room snapped toward them.

Tears welled in Jessica’s eyes, a picture of wounded innocence, while Benjamin frowned, his displeasure fixed on the shattered plate as he strode over.

"Benjamin, I was just trying to check on her, and she—"

He shot Laura a dark look, then suddenly increased the pressure on her shoulder—a silent warning not to make trouble.

But Laura, already struggling to stand, couldn’t brace against the sudden force. She stumbled backward.

She fell hard, her body crashing into the champagne and dessert display behind her. Bottles toppled, liquor splashed, pastries scattered, and Laura went down amidst the chaos. The red silk of her gown tore from the brutal friction against the floor.

Worst of all, shards from a broken bottle sliced into her exposed skin. Blood mingled with spilled alcohol and debris—a picture of utter wretchedness.

Benjamin had pulled Jessica clear the moment the display began to fall. Now, he was murmuring soft comforts to his ‘frightened’ lover.

All eyes were on Laura, disgraced and sprawled on the floor. Their gazes held mockery, disdain, and a flicker of concern. The whispers erupted.

"Domestic troubles for the Benjamins, it seems."

"She's still from a good family. How did she end up such a pathetic mess?"

"Oh my god—she's bleeding so much. Is she going to die?"