Hannah’s expression subtly shifted. Didn’t he worry about the trouble he’d attract?

Charles watched him leave, sneering, “What a useless prodigal son.”

Hannah’s lips tightened. Luckily, Charles was proud; he wouldn’t suspect she’d associate with such a man.

A grim smile touched Hannah’s lips. That so-called “useless prodigal son” was unbeatable, regardless of the tricks employed.

“Let’s go,” Hannah said, taking his arm. They entered the banquet hall.

Upon their return, Hannah was noticeably more animated. She greeted and conversed politely with passing guests, sipping wine, displaying impeccable upper-class etiquette.

Charles, still surprised by her transformation, asked, “Hannah, you’ve changed. You were never good with strangers, and now you’re a natural.”

It wasn’t inability, but unwillingness.

She smiled. “You’re too bright; I had to rise to the occasion.”

It was clearly praise.

Charles, delighted, said, “Silly girl, didn’t I strive to be bright so you could live a better life?”

Hannah smiled, remaining silent.

“Not to mention, my heart ached seeing you struggle to socialize.”

“I won’t overextend myself,” Hannah said, inwardly loathing his hypocrisy.

The hall lights dimmed, signaling the start of the charity auction. A man stepped to center stage, bathed in a spotlight.

“Good evening! It’s an honor to have you all here for our annual charity dinner in Kensbury City. I thank you for your attendance on behalf of the city’s charity organization…” His polished speech captivated the audience.

After his introduction, the host swiftly presented the auction items and commenced the bidding. Murmurs rippled through the hall.

Charles turned to Hannah. “Is there anything you like? I could give it to you as a wedding gift.”

Hannah’s eyelashes fluttered. She recalled Charles’s earlier call, asking if she wanted anything. She’d said no; he’d given an item to Sandra, who’d “accidentally” revealed it, causing a city-wide stir, including the exposure of her address. Hannah had even defended Charles on social media. Now, she remembered something—without the online exposure of Sandra's address, she couldn't have commissioned the private detective's photos.

“I heard the final item is the 1980s sapphire from Princess Diana’s tiara. I saw a picture; it’s beautiful,” she said.

“Certainly,” Charles readily agreed, surprised by her interest. She was always thrifty. He'd planned to buy bracelets for Sandra, severely limiting his budget.

Hannah pretended obliviousness, focusing on the stage.

The final item was presented. The host's dramatic introduction concluded with a bang of the gavel. “Sapphire, starting at five million, bids in increments of one hundred thousand. The auction begins!”

Bids flew fast. “Six million!”… “Six million five hundred thousand!”… “Six million eight hundred thousand!”… Then, a familiar voice boomed, “Ten million!”

It wasn’t Charles’s.

Charles, about to bid, hesitated at the sudden jump. The hall gasped, all eyes turning to Oscar.

Susan, beside Hannah, exclaimed, “That guy’s still as extravagant as ever!”

“He’s just a spoiled rich kid,” Charles retorted, raising his hand. “Eleven million!” Pride wouldn't let him lose.

“Fifteen million!” Oscar countered recklessly.

Charles’s face fell. “Sixteen million!”

“Twenty million!” Oscar bid again, clearly aiming to make Charles look cheap.

Charles’s budget was ten million; fifteen was his limit. He looked dreadful, the onlookers enjoying the spectacle. They didn’t know the Sawyer Group was facing financial difficulties, and this auction was meant to quell rumors and secure funding. Ten million was manageable; twenty was impossible.

Charles’s body trembled; he’d never felt such humiliation.

“Twenty million going once!” the host announced loudly.

Oscar remained composed, ignoring Charles, making him feel unworthy of consideration.

“Twenty million going twice!”

“Twenty million…”

Then, Hannah’s clear voice cut through the hall: “I have twenty-five million.”

The room erupted. Charles, astonished, whispered, “Oscar’s doing this on purpose; don’t fall for it.”

Hannah ignored him. Oscar was about to bid thirty million, Hannah prepared to follow. Charles abruptly pulled her hand down, in full view of everyone.

Hannah met his gaze calmly. He’d been impetuous; he couldn't afford it. He offered no explanation, believing his actions would always earn forgiveness, disregarding her feelings.

“Since Mr. Wells likes it so much, we’ll give it to him,” Charles stated.

“I hear…” Oscar interrupted, “this was Mr. Sawyer’s intended wedding gift for Miss Cooper. Are you sure?”

Charles’s face hardened. He’d accepted the challenge, knowing it was meant to humiliate him.

Oscar smiled faintly, his voice smooth. “Everyone says Mr. Sawyer adores Miss Cooper. I thought raising the price would give him a better chance to show it; it seems I was mistaken.”

“Love isn’t measured in money,” Charles declared solemnly.

Oscar smiled. “You’re right, Mr. Sawyer. So, are you sure you want to give it away?”

“Yes, please take it,” Charles replied politely.

Oscar’s gaze flickered towards Hannah. Hannah had always felt his casual demeanor hid eyes that could kill with a glance.