Divorce Failed My Wife's Secret Identities Shock the World novel Chapter 90

As the bidding grew more intense, anyone with eyes could see it: Mr. White wanted this lot.

When the price hit twenty million, the remaining competitors began to lose interest.

The Undying Project was a legend in medical circles. Whether "immortality" was even possible was still a question mark for most people.

Andres didn't crave eternal life.

But he was interested in the research behind the myth.

The White family funded more than a few labs. If he got the prototype, he could hand it to his researchers and let them dissect it at their own pace.

One by one, he crushed the competition, and he started to believe the win was inevitable.

Then Maeve hit her button.

The number jumped—twenty-three million.

Andres turned to her, frowning. "So this is why you went to such lengths to get on this ship?"

Maeve's answer was cool and absolute. "It's mine. And it can only be mine."

Andres laughed softly. "I didn't realize you'd hidden your real goal this well. You can want anything. I'll buy it for you. But not this."

He had plenty of feelings about Maeve, but when it came to something he considered a principle, he wasn't inclined to yield.

Maeve didn't budge an inch. "If I want it, I get it."

Andres's gaze sharpened. "If we're talking money, you'll lose."

Maeve leaned in, voice a whisper meant only for him. "If my balance can't cover it and I end up publicly flagged for nonpayment… your 'husband' status might accidentally become headline news."

Andres didn't flinch. "Threatening me?"

He pressed the button again, clean, decisive.

Maeve matched him instantly, and even had the nerve to purr, "Honey, you don't want your dear wife trending online over an auction scandal, do you?"

Andres's mouth curved. "Flirting won't work on me."

He kept raising the price anyway, half fighting, half enjoying the game.

She had tricks. Real ones. And she'd just used them on him.

Whether he liked it or not, he had to swallow the loss.

Because Maeve was his wife—his wife in the particular, infuriating sense that even divorce couldn't seem to untangle.

Worse, after days of living with her, he'd gotten used to her. He indulged her. Spoiled her, even when he swore he wouldn't.

He was starting to suspect he'd been poisoned.

Poisoned by something called Maeve.

The auction ran for a full two hours. By the time it ended, it was already three in the afternoon.

Guests gathered in clusters with drinks, trading introductions and networking like it was a second sport.

Andres and Declan were each pulled aside by business contacts.

Left on her own, Maeve found a small, empty private lounge, and finally took a proper look at the prototype she'd just paid thirty million to claim.