Just when everyone thought the bidding war would drag on, Jonathan called out s number that shattered all expectations.
“Five hundred million.”
The Grand Primus Ballroom fell instantly silent.
Five hundred million?!
Niamh’s eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at Jonathan.
Around the same table, Sprague, Marigold, Hayes, Carlotta, and Carlisle were all left speechless, mouths agape.
Of all of them, it was Ramona–the adopted daughter–who remained the most composed. Her crimson lips curled into a confident, dazzling smile, as if Jonathan dropping half a billion dollars for her was nothing out of the ordinary.
She was worth every penny.
Five hundred million dollars was an unimaginable sum to Niamh. Even after being recognized as Master BYC, she’d never dared to dream that one of her designs could fetch such a price at auction.
Michael, sitting beside her, didn’t seem the least bit annoyed. Instead, he pushed up his gold–rimmed glasses, struggling to hide his amusement.
Finally, the auctioneer snapped out of his shock and called out, voice trembling with excitement:
“Five hundred million, once!”
“Five hundred million, twice…”
There was no longer any suspense over the fate of Niamh’s donated comb. All waited for the final word.
“Five hundred million, third and final call… Sold!”
Jonathan completed the transaction and took possession of the item.
“Thank you, Mr. Thomas, for your generous support of our charity foundation.”
Jonathan nodded silently, casting his gaze down at the comb nestled in its velvet–lined box.
eyes
Up close, the artistry and vision behind Nlamh’s work were even more striking
Ramona ran manicured fingers through her gilded curls. She might not have cared much for gold, but a five–hundred–million–dollar hair comb could only add to her allure.
Everyone in the ballroom expected Jonathan to present this priceless treasure to Ramona with all due ceremony. Instead, he lifted the comb from its box, strode to the next table, and stopped beside Niamh.
Baffled, Niamh could only watch as Jonathan, without a word, slipped the comb into her elegant chignon.
The room erupted in whispers and gasps.
Niamh froze.
Michael’s smile didn’t falter–he looked as if he’d known Jonathan would do exactly this.
Across the room, Peter’s expression darkened.
Prince William, meanwhile, sensed drama in the air. He watched Jonathan and Niamh with growing delight.
At the neighboring table, Sprague and Marigold’s reactions were perhaps the most entertaining, especially Marigold, who opened and closed her mouth several times, unsure whether she should say something to the Quinn family.
Not even in her wildest imagination could Marigold have predicted that Jonathan would spend five hundred million on Niamh’s donated item, only to then give it right back to her.
Sprague, on the other hand, took several long gulps of wine, looking as if he might choke from sheer exasperation.
The Quinn family, however, took the scene in stride, far less visibly shaken than the
Thomases.
Hayes watched Jonathan and Niamh closely, his brow furrowed, gaze thoughtful.
Carlotta caught sight of Niamh, now wearing a five–hundred–million–dollar comb, and allowed herself a faint, knowing smile.
Ramona silently picked at her plate of sea urchin, her once–confident smile noticeably stiffened.
Niamh reached up to touch the comb in her hair.
“You’re giving this to me?”
She didn’t need to specify whom she was asking.
Jonathan’s gaze was steady and unreadable, as always. He nodded coolly
“That’s right.”
Niamh didn’t ask why.
She simply realized, in that moment, that for a man with Jonathan’s wealth, power, and relentless drive to win, money really didn’t mean a thing.
