The Tycoon's Secret Wife's Escape novel Chapter 79

Chapter 79

Moving to the side, I settled down and quietly sipped my water, tuning out the people around me.

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My anxiety intensified with each passing moment as I watched collection after collection sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Time passed before Cassiera’s collection was called.

“This new collection comes from designer Ms. Isabella Prescott,” the auctioneer announced, gesturing to the elegant red boxes containing my ten carefully crafted pieces. “May we ask the lady to present herself?”

I stood, offering the crowd a simple wave and a smile, carefully avoiding Grayson’s gaze.

The bracelet was the first piece displayed. I could barely hear the auctioneer over the fast–paced bids:

“Five thousand dollars…”

“Twenty thousand dollars…”

“Fifty thousand….” until it reached half a million.

*Sold for five hundred thousand dollars to Mr. Grayson Blake!”

My nails dug into my palms as the pattern repeated with each piece–earrings, necklaces, bracelets, a rose brooch–Grayson bought each one. He doubled the price of whatever the last bid had been.

What game was he playing? Was he out of his mind? He was overpaying for these pieces by an absurd margin.

Was he planning to give them to his mother? Or perhaps for Valeria Moroz?

. I showed no reaction, keeping my composure. I didn’t care anymore if he wanted to throw his money away. Grayson was a

billionaire—his wealth wouldn’t be exhausted in one evening.

But I couldn’t ignore the reporters, who were undoubtedly taking note of his actions, especially given his past connections to me.

My collection sold for over twenty million dollars.

Before the event had even ended, Eliot approached me.

“Ms. Isabella, the boss would like to meet with you,” he said softly, extending a hotel key card.

I kept my tone icy. “Thank your boss for the invitation, but I’m not for sale. The value of what he purchased tonight doesn’t include my reputation or my body.”

“Ms. Isabella, it’s not what you think,” Eliot said quickly, his voice filled with sincerity. “That was never Boss Grayson’s

intention.”

Talking to Grayson, or getting any closer to him, is the last thing I need right now. I can’t risk stressing out or letting him learn about the pregnancy. I tightened my trench coat, hoping Eliot wouldn’t notice.

I deliberately ignored the assistant, pretending he wasn’t even there. I felt terrible that he had to bear the weight of my coldness toward Grayson, and I knew he was just doing his job.

Before the auction came to a close, Joanne’s secretary approached me.

“The chief requests your presence,” he announced with quiet authority.

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Chapter 79

I rose and followed him without a word. But as we moved, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I immediately recognized those gray eyes. The tension in me faded once the noise of the auction hall quieted down.

We ascended to the third floor, where Joanne’s office was. She greeted me with her unusual cold expression.

“What’s going on? I wanted to ask, but I held my tongue, choosing my words carefully.

“Is there something you need from me?” I asked instead.

“I observed your interaction with Fred and Mary Prescott earlier, Joanne began, her voice sharp and icy.

“They’re my parents. Uh… did they do something to you?” I felt my heart sink. If I admitted that I’d cut ties with my parents months ago, it would only make things worse. Joanne was a loving mother with a perfect family–what would she think of

me?

Her expression hardened further. “Your parents didn’t do anything to me personally. But they’ve done something horrible to my friend, something I’ve told you about before, Isabella!”

“Bella Jones?” I whispered the name.

“Mary Prescott stole all of Bella’s designs. After my friend passed away, they started hiring ghost designers–a practice that continues to this day. Were you truly unaware of this, Isabella?*

I was speechless, leaving me struggling to process its implications.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Joanne delivered her final judgment. “I owe you an apology, Isabella, but knowing your background changes everything. I can no longer support Cassiera. Your parents‘ actions cannot be overlooked, and as their daughter, you pose a risk I can’t ignore.”

Though Joanne’s words pierced my heart, I kept my composure, standing tall against the accusation in her eyes.

*Please understand, Joanne–I haven’t lived with my family in years. I didn’t know anything about my mother’s business. I – was focused on my studies back then. It’s unfair for you to withdraw your support just because I’m the daughter of the

Prescott couple.”

“Then explain to me, Isabella,” Joanne countered, leaning forward. “How did you produce over a hundred designs mere months after leaving showbusiness? The timeline doesn’t add up, Isabella. Most designers take years to build such a collection.”

It was clear now. After everything I’d sacrificed, after every sleepless night spent sketching and revising, she believed I was following in my mother’s footsteps!