Christie's Divorce

At the prestigious Christie's Royal Charity Auction in Mayfair, my husband, Alistair St. John—the celebrated Marquess of Berkshire—placed my late mother's only silver ring on the velvet block.In front of three hundred European royals and a global livestream, he opened the bidding at one British pound, laughing with his royal mistress as they branded me a penniless parasite. High society cheered as I was humiliated and cast out into the freezing stables.They thought I was an orphan with no name, no fortune, and no voice.They didn't know that Victoria Grey was a carefully constructed lie.I am Victoria Blackwood—the supreme matriarch of the House of Blackwood, controlling forty percent of Europe's deep-strata rare-earth mines and holding the senior mortgages on every acre of land the St. John dynasty walks upon. For three years, my marriage was an experiment to see if an English noble possessed a single shred of honor.Alistair failed.Now, the debt has come due. I won't just divorce him—I will foreclose on his ancestral estate, call in every outstanding note, and strip his proud bloodline of everything they hold dear.He thought he was discarding a helpless nobody. He just signed the death warrant of his entire empire.