112 Auction Rivalry Ignites Anew
Damien’s voice rang clear through the hushed room. The collective gasp that followed was almost theatrical. Jorge Robinson’s confident expression faltered slightly as he turned to look at Damien, who held his gaze with cool indifference.
My stomach twisted. In seven years of marriage, Damien had never once referred to my grandmother Clara in such terms. The subtle elevation of Vivienne’s family above mine stung with surprising intensity.
“Going twice,” the auctioneer continued, his gavel poised.
The casual intimacy of their exchange made me look away. I focused instead on the auctioneer announcing the next lot, willing my heartbeat to slow.
“Going once, going twice… Sold! To Ms. Dubois for eighty–five million dollars!”
“We’ll start the bidding at three million dollars,” the auctioneer announced.
Vivienne’s delight was palpable as she gazed up at Damien. “That was quite extravagant, even for you,” she teased.
The room collectively inhaled. The jump was deliberately provocative–more than doubling the previous bid. Several potential bidders immediately lowered their paddles, effectively removing themselves from contention.
Chloe grabbed my wrist. “Elara, what are you doing?” she hissed. “You can’t afford this.”
Jorge hesitated, his fingers tapping the edge of his paddle. After what felt like an eternity, he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.
Now Damien looked up, his attention caught by the escalating amounts. His eyes scanned the room, finally landing on me. For a brief moment, something fled across his face–surprise, perhaps, or curiosity. Then his expression shuttered once more into cool indifference.
He leaned toward Vivienne, whispering something in her ear. She nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face.
Several paddles rose immediately. I hesitated, calculating rapidly. I could comfortably
finances, go to five million from my personal funds. Beyond that would strain my
112 Auction Rivalry Ignites Anow
especially with the divorce proceedings still ongoing.
Vivienne, who had been whispering something to Damien, turned sharply at the sound of my voice. Her eyes narrowed as she found me several rows behind her. For a moment, our gazes locked.
The bidding climbed steadily to four million. As it reached four and a half, I made my decision and raised my paddle.
Without breaking eye contact, she raised her paddle.
The auctioneer, barely containing his excitement, repeated, “Eighty–five million dollars from Mr. Thorne! Do I hear more?”
She hadn’t just outbid me for a piece of art–she had demonstrated her complete confidence in Damien’s backing. While I sat weighing financial consequences, she casually tossed out millions of his dollars without hesitation or concern.
My grandmother Clara had a small collection of antique embroidery. I’d grown up admiring these pieces, listening to her stories about the women who created such masterpieces centuries ago. This particular work would be perfect for her upcoming eightieth birthday.
“She’s important to you,” Damien replied, loud enough for nearby ears. “Which makes
my elder too.” her important to me as well. After all, I consider her
“Twenty–five million dollars from Ms. Dubois,” he confirmed. “Do I hear more?”
“Ladies and gentlemen, our next item is an exquisite example of Ming dynasty silk embroidery. This landscape scene dates to the early 15th century and represents the finest imperial craftsmanship of its era.”
My heart raced. The sudden escalation confirmed my fears–Vivienne wasn’t just bidding on a piece she wanted; she was directly competing against me. And with Damien’s resources behind her, she could easily outspend me on anything interest in.
owed
I bit my lip, calculating frantically. If I liquidated some investments and dipped into my emergency funds, I could potentially reach eighteen million. It would be financially irresponsible, but I suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of Vivienne winning so easily. She was right. I was being foolish, allowing Vivienne to bait me into a competition I
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couldn’t win. But something in me refused to back down immediately.
“Worth every penny to see you smile like that,” he replied.
Vivienne smirked, her back now fully turned toward me. Without glancing back, she lazily raised her paddle. “Fifteen million.”
She was right. This had become a power play, with Vivienne flexing Damien’s wealth like a weapon against me. Twenty–five million was beyond excessive for the piece–it was a deliberate statement that she could take anything I wanted, simply because she could.
“Twenty–five million going once, the auctioneer called, his eyes scanning the room for any last–minute competition.
Elara’s POV
Chloe’s hand covered mine, gently but firmly pushing the paddle down to my lap. “Let it go,” she whispered. “This isn’t about the embroidery anymore.”
Applause erupted throughout the room. Vivienne’s face transformed with delight as she threw her arms around Damien’s neck. He allowed a rare smile to grace his features, his hand resting possessively on her waist.
Despite knowing better, I raised my paddle again. “Twelve million.”
“Four point five million from the lady in blue,” the auctioneer acknowledged.
The room fell silent. The auctioneer’s eyes widened at the astronomical jump. Even he seemed momentarily speechless before recovering his professional demeanor.
Vivienne beamed. “I can’t believe you did that for her,”
“Eighty–five million,” Chloe whispered beside me, shaking her head in disbelief. “For a
vase.”
I glanced at Damien, wondering if he would intervene or show any reaction to this open hostility. His expression remained neutral, almost bored, as he scrolled through something on his phone. He hadn’t even looked up to see who Vivienne was bidding
against.
I sat frozen, my paddle clutched tightly in my hand. The rational part of my brain screamed that this was insanity–I couldn’t possibly match that bid. Yet my fingers
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112 Auction Rivalry Ignites Anew
tightened on the paddle, pride warring with common sense.
“Seventeen million,” I called, my voice steadier than I felt.
The message was brutally clear: I might have been Damien’s wife for seven years, but I never held the position in his life that Vivienne now occupied. The realization sat like ice in my stomach as the auctioneer’s voice rang out through the silent room.
As he prepared to call “going twice,” Vivienne finally turned her head slightly, casting a victorious glance in my direction. Her satisfied smile said everything words couldn’t.
“Your grandmother will be pleased,” I heard him say to her. “I know how much she values these pieces.”
I nodded numbly, unable to form a response. The price wasn’t the issue–Damien’s wealth was well known. It was his public declaration of allegiance to Vivienne’s family that cut deep.
Without turning around, without even acknowledging me as her opponent, Vivienne called out in a clear, confident voice: “Twenty–five million.”
My attention snapped back to the stage as the assistants revealed the piece–a delicate silk embroidery depicting mountains shrouded in mist, with tiny figures crossing a bridge. The artistry was breathtaking, each stitch creating depth and movement that seemed impossible for thread alone.
“Eighty–five million.”
“Ten million,” she called out, her voice/ringing with challenge.
I forced my fingers to relax their grip on the paddle. The embroidery was beautiful, but no physical object was worth financial ruin. I would find another gift for my
grandmother.
