Elodie could never mistake that ring.

It was the family heirloom her grandmother had given her mother, Winifred, years ago-worn as a wedding ring ever since. When the Harcourt family’s finances hit a rough patch, Malcom had sold the ring to keep the company afloat.

Her mother had been heartbroken for months.

Malcom never consulted her. By the time Winifred realized the ring was gone, it was far too late. No matter how she searched, it had vanished.

That wound between her parents never quite healed, not even as their marriage finally unraveled.

Elodie’s grandmother never spoke of it, but Elodie knew she still thought about that ring-she could see it in her eyes.

And yet, after all these years, fate had brought it back, right here at this charity gala.

Something that belonged to the Thorne family was never truly lost.

Even Esmeralda noticed how rattled Elodie was.

Elodie’s eyes clouded with emotion, and her hand shook as she gripped her auction paddle. The moment the auctioneer finished speaking, she was ready to raise her bid.

But she didn’t get the chance.

From the very front row, a hand lifted. “Fifteen million,” someone called out.

Elodie’s head snapped up, startled.

Sylvie sat with perfect poise, a confident smile curving her lips as she watched the ring glint beneath the auction lights. She leaned in toward Jarrod beside her. “The craftsmanship is remarkable. Antique rings like this-decades, maybe a century old-you just can’t find this kind of work anymore.”

Jarrod studied the magnified image on the screen, then nodded slightly. “If you want it, go for it.”

Sylvie’s smile widened. “All right.”

Elodie didn’t miss the way the two of them whispered together.

Her jaw tightened. She didn’t know what Jarrod had said, but a sinking feeling crept into her chest.

This ring belonged to the Thorne family. She had to bring it home.

Steeling herself, Elodie called out, “Sixteen million!”

Heads turned toward her.

Sylvie, recognizing her, narrowed her eyes and smirked.

Didn’t even take her seriously.

Maurice, seated nearby, let out a low whistle. Why did Elodie always jump in whenever Sylvie made a move-copycat, much?

Grady, frowning, muttered, “I told you, Elodie’s always got it out for Ms. Fielding. She can’t stand the idea of losing to her. It’s insecurity, pure and simple.”

Sylvie heard him, and her lips curled in silent amusement. “Twenty million,” she announced.

Elodie’s knuckles whitened. “Twenty-five million.”

With Jarrod’s wealth backing her, Sylvie barely hesitated. “Thirty million.”

It felt as if a thousand tiny needles pressed into Elodie’s chest. Her back was rigid with tension as she tried to think.

Could she keep up with this bidding war?

Her own savings weren’t vast. Most of her money came from the government buyout of her U.N2 research project—a lump sum, but not endless. In total, maybe fifty million.

But she needed her mother’s wedding ring back.

And she needed enough left over to pay for her uncle’s and her own medical treatments.

There was no other option.

Elodie’s lips were bloodless as she raised her paddle and staked everything: “Forty million!”

Her mother’s last words had been full of regret apologizing to Gran for marrying the wrong man, for losing the Thorne family’s ring. She’d died with that sorrow.

Elodie couldn’t bear to let the ring slip away again.

Forty million was all she could spare.

The last ten million had to be reserved for treatments and recovery-there was no room for recklessness.

At forty million, even Sylvie hesitated. She liked the ring, but it wasn’t worth more than twenty million-thirty at most.

Did Elodie not know what she was doing? Or was she just driving up the price out of spite?

Sylvie turned to Jarrod. “Any higher and it isn’t worth it. Money should be spent wisely.”