“Phoebe, I don’t blame you for being blind, but if you’re going to come into my house and humiliate yourself, I won’t entertain it any longer.”
Her expression immediately darkened. “Oh, so now you think I need you?”
“Let me tell you—men like you, who rely on their bodies and sponge off others, are the worst! You’ve got a terrible reputation now. No decent woman would marry you! I was only tolerating you because of the elders’ arrangement!”
I didn’t bother arguing. Instead, I picked up the vase and slowly turned it over so she could see the base.
“Take a good look. It's Sotheby’s authentication serial number—one of a kind. The final bid is 120 million dollars.”
“You really think I’d stoop so low for your five hundred thousand?” I snickered.
“I could let it go out of respect for our families. But the funny thing is—I happen to despise gold-digging women who want something for nothing.”
“So here’s my offer: if you and your little goon squad leave my house immediately and never show your face to me again, I’ll forget the slander and online harassment.”
Phoebe froze.