22 Chapter 24
Chapter 24 – Bidding War for a Lost Legacy
“Forty–five million, I announced, raising my paddle with a steadiness that belied the storm raging inside me.
The auctioneer’s eyes gleamed with undisguised excitement. “Forty–five million from paddle number 42. Do I hear fifty?”
Julian’s paddle shot up instantly, without even a moment’s hesitation. He still hadn’t bothered to turn around and face me.
“Fifty million from paddle number 27. Do I hear fifty–five?”
I gripped my paddle tighter, taking a deep breath. The jade bracelet glimmered under the spotlights, its intricate dragons and phoenixes dancing in eternal harmony. I could almost hear my mother’s voice, telling me stories about how it had been passed down through generations of women in her family before my father had taken everything.
“Fifty–five million,” I said, my voice clear and firm.
Ivy turned in her wheelchair, her lips curled in a mocking smile. “You really want it, don’t you, Hazel? How sweet.”
I ignored her, focusing instead on the auctioneer who was calling out the new bid. Around me, the crowd had grown hushed, sensing the drama unfolding between the determined bidders.
Julian’s paddle went up again. “Sixty million.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. I’d come with fifty million dollars from Damien Sterling, plus ten million of my own savings. The math was simple – I had enough for one more bid.
“Sixty–five million, I announced, fighting to keep my voice steady.
Whispers rippled through the audience. This was no longer just an auction; it was becoming a spectacle.
Julian finally turned to look at me, his expression unreadable. For a fleeting second, I thought I saw something like concern in his eyes. Was he trying to protect me somehow? Did he think I was bidding beyond my means?
“Seventy million,” he countered, his gaze locked with mine.
I hesitated, my paddle halfway raised. I’d reached my limit. Every penny I had access to was already committed. If I bid again, I’d be making a promise I couldn’t keep.
Ivy leaned over to Julian, whispering something in his ear. He frowned slightly but nodded.
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“Seventy million going once,” the auctioneer called, his gaze sweeping the room.
My throat tightened. The bracelet–my mother’s bracelet–seemed to call to me from its display stand. How could I let it go? How could I fail her memory this way?
“Seventy million going twice…”
I closed my eyes, trying to find clarity in the darkness behind my eyelids. The memory of my mother surfaced–not wearing the bracelet, but holding my hand, telling me that sometimes letting go was its own kind of strength.
“Eighty million.”
The words left my lips before I could stop them. A collective gasp rippled through the audience. I’d just bid ten million more than I had.
The auctioneer’s eyebrows shot up. “Eighty million from paddle number 42. Do I hear ninety?”
Julian turned again, his expression now clearly concerned. “Hazel, what are you doing?” he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.
Ivy tugged at his sleeve, her face twisted with irritation. “Don’t talk to her. Just win.”
He hesitated, then raised his paddle. “Ninety million.”
I swallowed hard. What was I doing? What had possessed me to continue bidding? Was it pure desperation, or was I hoping to force Julian to pay an outrageous sum, even if I couldn’t win?
“One hundred million,” I heard myself say, even as warning bells clanged in my head.
Julian’s jaw tightened. He stared at me for a long moment, then deliberately raised his paddle. “One hundred and twenty million.”
Ivy was practically bouncing in her wheelchair. “Keep going, Julian! Don’t let her have it!”
I gripped the edge of my seat, knuckles white. Every logical part of my brain was screaming at me to stop, but my heart wouldn’t listen. This wasn’t just about a bracelet–it was about everything that had been taken from me, from my mother, from the life we should have had.
“One hundred and fifty million,” I said, my voice thin but audible.
The room had gone completely silent. Even the auctioneer seemed stunned by the escalation.
Julian was shaking his head now. “Hazel, stop.” His voice was low, almost pleading. “You don’t have to do this.”
Was that guilt I heard? Or was he genuinely worried I’d financially ruin myself? Either way, I
didn’t care.
“One hundred and fifty million with paddle number 42, the auctioneer announced, recovering his professional demeanor. “Do I hear one hundred and sixty?”
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Julian hesitated, then slowly raised his paddle. “One hundred and sixty million.”
Ivy clutched his arm, her face alight with vicious triumph. “Yes! Make her pay, Julian.”
The auctioneer looked to me expectantly. My mind raced, calculating impossible numbers. I was already fifty million over my limit. I couldn’t possibly-
“One seventy–five million,” I said, the words falling from my lips like stones.
Julian’s face shifted, something like realization dawning. He leaned forward, studying me
intently. “Hazel, enough. You’ve made your point.”
Had I? What point was that? That I was willing to bankrupt myself for a symbol of my lost heritage? That I’d risk everything to spite him and Ivy?
“One hundred and eighty million,” Julian countered, his voice heavy.
I was trembling now, exhaustion and emotion threatening to overwhelm me. How far would this go? How far could I push before collapsing under the weight of promises I could never fulfill?
“Two hundred million!” Ivy suddenly shouted, grabbing Julian’s paddle from his hand and thrusting it into the air.
The room erupted in shocked murmurs. Even Julian looked startled.
“Ivy,” he hissed, “what are you doing?”
She turned to me, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Give up, Hazel. You’ve lost–just like you always do.”
The auctioneer cleared his throat. “Two hundred million from paddle number 27. Do I hear two
hundred and ten?”
My hand trembled as I considered raising my paddle one last time. What would happen if I bid? Would they repossess my car? My apartment? Would I be in debt to Damien Sterling for the rest of my life?
The bracelet glinted under the lights, seeming almost to pulse with my mother’s presence. I could almost hear her gentle voice: *Some battles can’t be won with money, sweetheart.*
Before I could decide, the auctioneer continued, “Two hundred million going once… going
twice…”
“Three hundred million.”
The voice was deep, authoritative, and came from somewhere above us. Everyone in the room, including me, turned toward the source–a darkened VIP suite overlooking the auction floor.
The auctioneer’s face registered shock, followed quickly by professional delight. “Three hundred million from the Sterling suite. Do I hear-”
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“Who the hell is Sterling?” Ivy sputtered, her face contorting with anger.
I looked up at the VIP suite, and through the dim lighting, I could make out a tall figure standing at the glass. Damien Sterling’s unmistakable profile was silhouetted against the soft lighting behind him.
My breath caught in my throat.
Julian glanced between me and the VIP suite, his expression darkening with comprehension. “Sterling? The Sterling family?”
The auctioneer waited a moment, but no further bids came. Ivy was still sputtering, trying to grab the paddle back from Julian, who now held it firmly out of her reach.
“Three hundred million going once… going twice… Sold to the Sterling family for three hundred million yuan!”
The gavel came down with a decisive crack that seemed to echo through my very bones. The audience burst into applause–not just for the sale, but for the drama they’d witnessed.
I sat frozen in my seat, unable to process what had just happened. Damien Sterling had outbid everyone by one hundred million yuan. But why? And what did this mean for the bracelet–for my mother’s legacy?
As the auction moved on to the next lot, I continued staring up at the VIP suite, where Damien Sterling still stood, now looking directly down at me. Even from this distance, I could feel the intensity of his gaze.
What game was he playing? Had he just rescued me from financial ruin, or had he snatched my mother’s bracelet from under my nose for his own mysterious reasons?
I couldn’t tear my eyes away as one overwhelming question filled my mind: What would Damien Sterling want in return for a three–hundred–million–yuan favor?
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