He Gave Her My Eyes A Story of Final Sight novel Chapter 138

Lawrence sat alone in the armchair by his bedroom window, the silver arc of the moon behind him. Its glow spilled across the woman kneeling between his knees, catching the uncertainty on her face.

His phone buzzed on the side table. He grabbed it and glanced at the screen. The moment his eyes landed on a photo—a woman he recognized, smiling and chatting with another man—the warmth in his gaze vanished.

Without a word, Lawrence yanked Ophelia by the hair, pushed her aside, and stood up. His brow tightened, his eyes steely and cold.

Ophelia was stunned, left blinking in confusion. She watched as Lawrence fastened his belt, then strode toward the door. She scrambled after him.

"Lawrence, what’s wrong? Did I do something?"

He didn’t pause. "When I come back, I don’t want to see you here. Got it?"

He walked out of the bedroom. At the entrance, he suddenly stopped, as if reminded of something. He turned on his heel, headed for his study, and pulled a blue jewelry box from the drawer.

He cradled the box like it was something priceless. For a moment, the hard lines of his face softened.

The auction was already underway. Theresia barely glanced at the first two items. Farris, beside her, made a few half-hearted bids just for show.

He leaned in, voice low. "Nina’s coral bracelet is a real gem. You sure you don’t want it?"

Honestly, jewelry had never interested Theresia. In three years of marriage, Lawrence had bought her more than she could count, but she rarely wore any of it.

There was one exception—the Heart of the Ocean. She’d seen it once in a magazine and couldn’t get it out of her mind.

She shook her head. "I’ll wait to see what comes up later."

Farris chuckled. "Sometimes I wonder if you’re even a woman."

Soon, the last item was up. The auctioneer’s voice echoed through the hall. "Our final piece tonight is an antique painting, Heron Scroll by Latham, donated by Mr. Eric Baker."

Eric?

So he was involved.

Farris lifted his paddle. "Five million."

"Bidder five at five million. Any other offers? Five million going once, five million..."

From the front row, bidder three chimed in. "Five and a half million."

Farris grinned, eyes on the competition. "Looks like someone’s got it out for me. Six million..."

Just as he started to raise his paddle, Theresia pressed his hand back down.

He looked at her, puzzled. "Theresia, what’s wrong?"

She didn’t answer. Instead, she stood, eyes locked on the painting, and pointed right at it.

"This Heron Scroll is a fake."