The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 62

62 Chapter 62 His Words Were So Earnest

Blanche’s POV 1

The moment Vincent stepped onto the stage, panic crashed over me like a wave. I couldn’t stop myself from crying out, “Vincent, what

are you doing? Get down!”

Both Zain and Joanna caught my desperate shout.

Vincent heard me too, but he didn’t hesitate for a second. He strode up on stage and grabbed the microphone from the auctioneer.

Standing there, Vincent raised an eyebrow at the crowd and declared, “I bid 40 million. Anyone else want to raise the bid? If so, I’ll add

another five million on top of whatever you offer.”

Vincent’s message was crystal clear–no matter the price, he was going to get that bracelet.

My heart clenched with dread.

Zain Jacob wasn’t someone to mess with, and with Joanna wanting the piece so desperately, Vincent’s move was obvious–he was picking

a fight with Zain until the bitter end.

But if they kept escalating like this, both sides would just destroy each other. The whole thing was senseless, but I couldn’t stop Vincent.

I could only sit there helplessly, watching it all spiral out of control.

Vincent had backed Zain into a corner, and murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Some figured Zain, with all his money and influence, would definitely match the bid. Others thought it was reckless, that he might pull

out before things got too crazy.

Joanna’s chest seemed to tighten when she realized Zain had given up the fight. Though she was clearly upset, she kept quiet. I could tell

she intended to lose with dignity if she was going to lose. I imagined she didn’t think Zain had made the wrong call.

This was a showdown between the men, but underneath, it was just as much about the war between Joanna and me.

Nearly everyone in the room held their breath, waiting to see Zain’s next move.

The auctioneer began the countdown, and when that final gavel dropped, Zain hadn’t raised his paddle.

The outcome was set, and whispers filled the air.

Though Zain had made the smart choice, some people thought that given his position, he shouldn’t have backed down so easily.

Zain ignored the chatter completely. He stayed in his seat, his eyes locked on Vincent up on stage.

I might have won this silent battle, but inside, my uncase only grew. I sat frozen, ice running down my spine.

After leaving the stage, Vincent came back to his seat.

Seeing me lost in my thoughts, he leaned in and asked, “Are you mad?”

I didn’t respond right away. I looked at Vincent and said, “Should we get ready to go?”

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Vincent wound a strand of my hair around his finger, leaning closer with a smirk. “What’s wrong? Can’t wait to get to the hotel with me?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I shot him a glare but stayed silent, my irritation burning in my eyes.

Just then, the host announced the auction would continue.

I could tell Vincent knew exactly why I was furious with him, but he acted like nothing had happened.

Since the auction wasn’t finished, I couldn’t leave.

I had no choice but to stay put.

Seeing my anger, Vincent seemed to lose interest in the rest of the bidding.

The remaining lots flew by in a haze, and once everything wrapped up, waiters guided the VIPS into another hall. The space was filled

with wine, champagne, fresh fruit, desserts, and hors d’oeuvres.

Vincent led me into the hall, where we were instantly swarmed by a group of people.

“Mr. Aarav, who’s this gorgeous woman? Not even going to introduce her? What, scared we’ll steal her away?” one of them joked.

“Steal her? Nah, he just doesn’t want to share her with us,” another chimed in.

“That’s right. Mr. Aarav always plays his cards close to the vest,” a third added.

The group had business connections with Vincent, so their teasing wasn’t out of line.

But Vincent seemed to take it seriously. He pulled me from behind him, brought me to his side, and introduced me with a grin. “This

one? She’s actually different–she’s my girl.”

As soon as he said it, everyone around us erupted in laughter, exchanging knowing glances like they were all in on some inside joke.

Vincent was notorious in their circle for being a playboy. No matter which woman stood beside him, he’d always call her his girl. They’d

heard it countless times before, so they weren’t surprised.

I knew Vincent’s reputation well enough that I didn’t take his words seriously.

Vincent could see they didn’t believe him, so he pressed on. “No, really. She’s my girl.”

They just laughed and humored him, saying, “Yeah, yeah, we got it–your girl.”

“So tell us, what does your girl do?” one of them teased.

Vincent, who was usually careless and flippant, seemed stung when his honest words were brushed off as a joke. I could tell he couldn’t

really blame them, though–he’d built that reputation himself.

So Vincent reached for two glasses of red wine–one for me and one for himself. After taking a sip, he smiled slightly and said, “My girl? She saves lives.”

As soon as he said it, everyone started showering me with praise. “Wow, a doctor? That’s really amazing.”

Their compliments were hollow, purely for show.

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Businessmen like them didn’t really respect doctors. A doctor’s salary could never match their earnings.

Vincent didn’t get defensive. Instead, he turned to look at me, since I’d been quiet this whole time, and said, “All that fake flattery doesn’t

matter. I really do think she’s incredible.”

His words were so earnest, and the expression on his face was completely genuine.

I turned to him, my brow creased, worry and confusion clear in my eyes.

But in the next moment, the people around Vincent burst into laughter again. I couldn’t tell if they were genuinely amused or if they

found Vincent’s sudden seriousness ridiculous.

But Vincent’s expression didn’t change at all. He stared directly at me, as if trying to tell me he wasn’t just putting on a show. His gaze

stayed locked on mine, silently waiting for some kind of acknowledgment.

Now slightly panicked, I nudged his arm and asked, “Should we leave now?”

Vincent’s intensity unsettled me even more, and I desperately hoped he was just messing around.

Caught in our silent stare–down, my anxiety spiked.

Just as I was about to turn and walk away, Vincent finally said, “It’s still early. There’s a photo session coming up.”

My racing heart finally slowed down a bit. I was still on edge, but at least I felt a little better. I looked at Vincent, still nervous, and said,

“Okay, then.”

Since I was already here, I decided to keep my promise to stay for the party with Vincent. After all, I did owe him.

At that moment, a sweet, flowing piano melody drifted from the auction hall.

I froze when I heard it. I instantly recognized Joanna playing the piano.

The sound of the music grabbed everyone’s attention, drawing them toward the auction hall.

The hallway was packed, and Vincent, as if worried I might get pushed around, quickly pulled me close, shielding me at his side.

Meanwhile, the crowd started gossiping.

“Isn’t that the woman Mr. Jacob always brings with him?” one whispered.

“Yeah, that’s her. Mr. Jacob’s completely smitten with her, takes her everywhere,” another replied.

“Honestly, she’s got this elegant presence, and she’s so gifted. No wonder Mr. Jacob’s crazy about her,” a third person added.

Zain stood near the stage, eyes closed, appearing completely absorbed in the music, seemingly totally ignoring the chatter around him.

But to everyone else, it looked like a public display of romance between him and Joanna.

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