I Sold My Heart To Forget Them—Now They Beg Me To Remember novel Chapter 52

Chapter 20

“What, I’m not allowed to say it? Can’t handle the truth now?

“A husband who claimed to love me–yet let his wife get slapped by a room full of people? What a joke. You did it all for

Vivienne, didn’t you? A murderer who deserves to rot in hell. And you? You’re no better. just as vile. You two deserve

each other.”

Sloane’s words were sharp as blades, her voice cold and emotionless. Each syllable stabbed straight into Declan’s heart.

She turned away, not sparing him another glance. “Don’t ever show your face again, Declan. If you’ve got even a shred of

dignity left.”

The window of the passenger seat slowly rolled up, and the car pulled away from the curb.

Declan collapsed, knees hitting the pavement. He buried his face in his hands, muffled sobs escaping between his fingers.

In the rearview mirror, he shrank into a speck… then nothing.

Inside the car, it was silent. Sloane clutched her seatbelt, trying to steady her breath.

Oddly, she felt lighter–like a stone that had sat on her chest for years had finally shattered into dust.

But Devlin, behind the wheel, wore a much darker expression. Sloane’s words had hit him too–right in the chest.

They weren’t even meant for him, yet they left him rattled, tense, and angry.

He slammed the brakes, pulling over on the coastal highway. Knuckles tight on the wheel, he glanced at her.

“Sloane, I…”

“You don’t have to say anything. No pity, no sympathy. I’m fine.”

Devlin’s throat bobbed, voice low and gentle.

There’s something you should know. Those photos you mentioned? Someone in the States is trying to put them up for

auction.”

“But don’t worry. I’ll buy them–make sure those photos never see the light of day.”

Sloane paused for only a second, then offered a wry, indifferent smile. “No need. Someone will bid on them anyway. For some men, words alone don’t count as revenge. They need to bleed.”

Far off, the sun was rising on the edge of the sea–same as always.

Sloane stared toward that unreachable horizon, imagining those first rays warming the waves.

Chapter 20

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Sure enough. Declan’s phone rang

“Mr. Hawthorne. Mr. Clay is hosting a high–profile collector’s auction. He sent you a personal invite Word is, there’s a rare set of photos up for bid–starting at a billion. Oh, and apparently ninety percent of the proceeds will go to charity.”

Declan’s heart dropped. “I don’t care what it costs. I want those photos. Book me the next flight home–now.”

That very night, he flew back to the States.

The auction was held online, broadcast live to the public. The moment Declan appeared on camera–haggard and

frantic–the comments section erupted.

“OMG, it’s that guy. The one who practically drove his wife to her death just to protect a killer.”

“Rumor has it he let someone film explicit blackmail material of his wife just so he could buy Vivienne a stupid ring. This

auction’s gotta be about that.”

“He’s disgusting. All this pathetic pining? Save it for someone who cares.”

Onscreen, the comment feed scrolled so fast it looked like static. Some snorted. Some laughed.

It was like a public execution–Declan, pale and trembling, tied to an invisible post of shame.

Eventually, the auction reached its final stage: the mysterious photo set. Comments flooded in.

“Wait, what the hell? Five billion? For pictures?”

But what stunned everyone more was Declan’s bidding frenzy. From the second the lot appeared, he went all in.

Most viewers were curious–but no one else was really prepared to throw billions at curiosity.

Except… someone else was bidding, too. An anonymous online user–silent and relentless–matched Declan bid for bid.

And then some.

They pushed the price to twenty billion.

Twenty billion–more than the entire auction combined.

Declan didn’t even blink. He just kept raising his paddle.

“Sir, you need to stop–we’re past fifty billion. That’s all the liquid funds we’ve got,” his assistant whispered urgently.

But Declan didn’t so much as blink. The numbers surged past sixty.

And then–Bang. The gavel came down.

Declan broke into a cold sweat. But beneath it all, a fragile sense of relief.