The Billionaire Ex-Wife and the Beggar He Became novel Chapter 123

Winona didn't even look at Julian as he confronted her, her voice calm and steady. "Tell me, Mr. Nicholson, is this your family's turf?"

Julian fell silent, his intense eyes fixed on her. There was a storm of emotion in his gaze, but he said nothing.

Felicity, hanging off Julian's arm, gave Winona a once-over, her expression dripping with arrogance. The corner of her lips twitched in a faint, mocking smile before she turned away, dismissing Winona entirely.

Winona knew exactly why Felicity was smirking.

The venue was tiny, barely a handful of people milling about, and nothing on display was worth more than a few thousand at best. Yet here was Winona, dressed as if she were stepping onto a red carpet in Cannes.

Her deep ocean-blue evening gown shimmered, every inch embedded with tiny crystals. It had to be worth at least a hundred grand, maybe more. And the necklace around her throat—a jeweled masterpiece—was a rare gem by any definition, almost impossible to find anywhere in the world.

The ensemble hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her every line: the elegant slope of her shoulders, her narrow waist, her graceful hips. She looked like she belonged at a Hollywood gala, not at this modest little auction.

Frankly, she stuck out like a trust fund heiress waving a briefcase of cash in a thrift store.

But showing up dressed to the nines hadn't exactly been her choice.

Earlier that afternoon, after sneaking Helga into the hospital for a glimpse of Tiana, Winona had accompanied her to the design studio. Helga had gotten wind from Mia about the company hierarchy—Helga as Chairwoman, Winona as Vice Chair, Mia as CEO, and Zane as the young boss—and decided she had to "inspect her own company."

They'd barely walked in when Yves Prescott arrived.

"There's an auction tonight you'll want to see," Yves told Winona straight away. "You know, your project's all about joinery—well, there's a lot of carved woodwork being sold off…"

"I'm not interested in auctions," Winona cut him off.

Auctions were for billionaires with too much time and money on their hands. She didn't belong in that world. The only reason she'd ever shown up at these fancy events on Yves's arm was because she'd had no other choice. If she could skip it, she would.

"Among the pieces," Yves continued, "yeah, there's a wooden piece by this artist named Perkins—"

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