bChapter /bb191 /b

ADRIAN’S POV

The timer finally hit zero, a sharp buzz echoing through the hall and pulling everyone’s begin, and I could feel my heart rate pick up–though I wouldn’t admit that out loud.

attention to the main stage. It was finally time for the auction bto /b

The manager stepped forward, dressed in a sharp ck suit that was probably a size too big, gripping a folded paper in one hand and a microphone in the other. He cleared his throat, and the low murmur of conversations died down.

“Hello everyone, a good day to you and thank you all for being here,” he began, his voice confident but polite. “Now, the owner of the vintage car apologizes for not being able to attend in person. Unfortunately, he is very upied at the moment.”

“That aside,” the manager continued, “we have some very special guests among us today, and I’d like to thank them for taking the time to be here, knowing how tight their schedules must be. Mr. Damien Cole,” he said, lifting a hand in Damien’s direction.

I couldn’t help it; my head turned toward Damien, just like everyone else’s. A big smile appeared ion /iDamien’s face as he stood up smoothly. The crowd responded with polite apuse, and he raised his hand in acknowledgment, as if he were some kind of celebrity on a red carpet rather than just another bidder in an auction hall.

“Thank you foring, sir, we truly appreciate your presence,” the manager added, bowing slightly.

As Damien took his seat again, the apuse faded, but the whispers that reced it were louder than before. They rose like waves in the quiet hall, drifting over to where James and I sat.

“That’s Damien Cole? The Damien Cole?” a male voice somewhere to my left murmured, just loud enough to catch. “He’s the onlywyer in the world to be a billionaire just from practicingw alone. That’s insane.”

1

I could almost see James smirking beside me, clearly satisfied that I was hearing confirmation of everything he’d just told me earlier.

Then came another voice, softer and unmistakably female, tinged with an excited giggle. “He’s even more handsome in person… I swear, if I get the chance, I’m going to get his number after the auction. And who knows–maybe he’ll take me on a date… with that Rolls Royce.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes harder than I ever had in my life. Of course. Of course, there would be people here less interested in the car itself than in the man bidding on it. That’s the thing about these events: half the people want the prize, and the other half just want to get close to the people who can actually afford it.

But the voices didn’t stop there.

“Come on, you’re giving him too much creditb,” /banother woman replied, her tone skeptical but curious.

“How so?” the first voice demanded.

“Wellb, /byou basically just said Damien’s going to win the car. Like it’s guaranteed,”

she

said.

“Well, isn’t it?” the first woman shot back. “Look around. Who else here canpete with him? There’s no point struggling for something that’s already

inevitable.”

Their words stung, more than I wanted to admit, My jaw tightened, and I found myself clenching my

hands into fistsb. /b

I raised my eyebrow slightly, amused–and admittedly, a bit annoyed–by what I overheard behind me. So they really think there’s no one here bwho /bcan beat Damien? I thought, suppressing the urge to scoff out loud.

A part of me wanted to turn around and call them out, to remind them they bwere /bsitting two rows behind Adrian Westwood himself. But I bdidn’t/b. I clenched my jaw lightly and decided to let the results speak for themselves instead. Actions always carried more weight than empty bwords/b, band /bbtoday/b, was determined to prove exactly that.

Then the manager’s voice pulled my attention back to the front.

“bAnd /bsecondlyb, /bwe would also like to wee the CEO of Westwood Corporation, Mr. Adrian Westwood,” he announced.

Beside me, James immediately started pping with enthusiasm, and soon the rest of the hall followed, a ripple of polite apuse spreading like a wave. I forced a small, practiced smile to my face–one I’d used a thousand times at board meetings and gs–and stood brieflyb, /boffering ba /bbcurt /bbnod /bband /bba /bhalf–hearted wave before lowering myself back into my seat.

As soon as I sat down, my gaze almost instinctively drifted back to the woman sitting next to Damien. There was something about her presence that I couldn’t quite ce. Maybe it was the aura she carried

For a few seconds, our eyes locked across the room. It felt strangely intense, neither of us breaking away. Her stare wasn’t the nervous nce bof /bsomeone caught looking; it was steady, unflinching, as if she was measuring me, testing what she saw.

Then James leaned closer to me, , his voice a quiet murmur that broke the moment.

“Remember,” he whispered, “you’re not going to start the bidding. Let the small fries get pushed out first–then we raise the stakes.”

My gaze shifted to him, pulling away from hers, though I could still sense her presence like a subtle weight on my mind.

“This isn’t my first auction, James,” I reminded him, my tone dry but calm.

James chuckled, scratching lightly at the edge of his neatly trimmed beard.

“I know. But you haven’t exactly been yourselftely. Just wanted to make sure you remembered the n.”

I let out a small sigh and nodded, a touch of tension easing from my shoulders. “Don’t worry,” I said, and my voice sounded firmer than I felt. “I’ve got this.”

Then, lowering my voice, I added, i“/iiAnd /idid you really have to start pping that loudly?”

He grinned, unbothered. “iCome /ion–you’re practically a star here. Even if I hadn’t started it, someone else would’ve.”

Before I could respond, my eyes flickered back to thedy in red. This time, though, she wasn’t staring back. Instead, I caught the moment when Damien leaned closer to her, his head slightly inclined as he whispered something into her ear. She listened without reacting much, only giving the smallest nod.

That told me two things: first, they definitely knew each other. And second, their rtionship wasn’t purely formal. Maybe she was ihis /isister, or maybe something more–a wife, a partner, ior /isomeone he trusted deeply. Either way, she wasn’t just another guest.

Not that it really matters, I told myself. The auction was about money, determination, and timing–not about who you had sitting beside you. Across the hall, cameras were adjusting, screens flickering to life to project live feeds of the auction to other rooms. Voices settled into a bhush /bas the atmosphere shifted, everyone leaning forward slightly in their seats.

It was time to silence all those whispers who believed there was no one here who could win that car other than mewyer

The auction was about to begin. And no matter who Damien was, ino /imatter what connections he brought, I wasn’t leaving here without that bcar/b.