Never Late, Never Away (Vivian and Finnick) -
Chapter 510
Never Late, Never Away Chapter 510
"This isn't right too. Even if he was willing to care for Evelyn, it shows that she has a place in his heart. But why would he look at your ex-wife like that? If he really cared for her, why would he divorce her?" The crowd stood in uncomfortable silence following his words. Then, one after another, they shook their heads. "Who knows, maybe Finnick loves both of them?"
Vivian couldn't hear much over the commotion. She only managed to catch snatches of Evelyn being disabled, and Finnick caring for her.
She was surprised to hear of Evelyn's disability. That thought was followed by a dilemma in her heart. Turns out that Finnick loves Evelyn this much. He still cares for her for so many years even after she became a cripple.
Vivian thought of that year when he ordered Noah to take her for an abortion. She sighed sadly to herself. To Finnick, one of them was the one that got away, the other was now his ball and chain. They were a world of difference.
Vivian dropped her gaze first. She turned and marched off to the auction with Benedict on her arm, without sparing Finnick another glance.
Finnick however kept his eyes on Vivian's back. As he watched her back sway with the motion of her stride, he was suddenly aware of her change. She wouldn't be wearing something as sexy as this in the past.
He received the news today that Benedict was back in the country, and that the Morrison family was going to organize an auction, of which Ms. Morrison would also be in attendance.
When Finnick heard that, he became aware that his heart that had quelled for five years had begun beating wildly again. Five years ago, Benedict said that Vivian William was his sister. Could the long-awaited Ms. Morrison actually be Vivian William?
After pulling several strings, he managed to secure an invitation for himself and made his way over to the hotel. She's finally back!
His heart that was beating wildly suddenly stopped at the very moment when he set eyes on her. It's been five years. I have finally seen her again, but...
Finnick recalled the way she looked at him earlier and felt anxious. It was as though he couldn't see his reflection in her eyes anymore. Did she learn to shield her emotions, or did he cease to exist in her heart now?
Hands balled into fists, Finnick's eyes gleamed with determination. Now that she's back again, I won't let her go again!
Finnick followed the Morrisons into the auction venue. The crowd dispersed after the subjects of their gossip left. One after another, they made their way into the auction hall.
As soon as everybody was seated, the host announced that the auction was about to begin.
The first item was a set of very common porcelain. The only bidders for those were some amateur collectors, most likely for practice. They cost between thirty to a hundred thousand.
The bidders after the big-ticket items remained silent because they understood that the valuables would be saved for later.
At this point, the auctioneer pointed at a newly delivered item and said, “Alright, next up is the most interesting item of the day. Does anyone care to venture a guess?"
The auctioneer let slip a mysterious smile. "I think none of you would be able to deduce what it is."
The crowd was hanging on to every word the auctioneer said. Their eyes were mad with curiosity. An antique auction like this would usually showcase porcelain and art by various historical figures. What else could be described as "interesting"?
The crowd started gossiping among themselves as to what the red box contained. Some of the bidders were visibly irritated by the antics of the auctioneer's and made no effort to hide their impatience.
As a man who employed theatrics modestly, he knew when he had captured the absolute attention of his audience. Without tormenting them any longer, he announced, "This very special item is a ring." At his words, the crowd started hissing. What's so special about this ring? It has no origin story. They don't even know which time period it came from.
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