"Oh, George, look at this one!" Donna squealed, pointing a manicured finger at a sapphire necklace that cost more than my father’s house. "It matches my eyes perfectly."
"Then it’s yours," George said, his voice smooth as silk. He raised his paddle without even looking at the price.
I watched as the auctioneer slammed the gavel. Sold.
I was the wife. I was the one standing there with the ring on my finger. Yet, I was treated like the hired help, holding Donna’s coat while she draped herself over my husband. People whispered behind their programs, their eyes darting from Donna’s triumph to my humiliation.
I felt bile rise in my throat and slipped away toward the restrooms, needing a moment to breathe.
As I turned the corner near the private viewing alcove, I heard them.
"Why did you bring her?" Donna’s voice was a harsh whisper. "It’s embarrassing, George. Everyone is staring. We should just end her. Or divorce her. Why drag this out?"
I froze, pressing my back against the cold wall.