Chapter 250

Miles slid a glance at Vincent, who sat beside him, silent and stoic as ever.

Miles and Vincent had made plans to come to the auction together right after their meeting, and for Miles, there was only one goal: the violet gemstone pendants. He was determined to win them for his mother's upcoming birthday.

Miles's gaze drifted for a moment to Vincent's hand, still wrapped in fresh bandages. The memory of what had happened barely an hour ago flickered through his mind: Vincent answering a call, his face darkening as he listened,then-without warning-crushing a wine glass in his fist.Burgundy wine had spilled in streaks across the carpet,mingling with blood, shards of glass wedged deep into Vincent's palm.

Even for Miles, who'd seen his share of chaos, the suddenness of it had rattled him.

"Three-point-five million dollars, going once...Any higher bids?"The auctioneer's clear voice cut through Miles's thoughts. He forced himself back to the present just as the gavel came down with a decisive crack.

"It's yours-congratulations!"

A faint, satisfied smile flickered on Miles's face as he acknowledged the result and signed off on the auction house's tablet, the gesture smooth and unhurried.

During the intermission, Vincent's attention drifted across the bustling venue. His gaze stopped cold when he caught sight of a familiar figure in the rear rows.

Hannah sat near the aisle, her arms loosely folded, slender fingers unconsciously tracing idle circles over her bare skin

There was a slight pinch between her brows-a nearly invisible shiver that didn't escape Vincent's notice

Next to her. Claude was turned away, engaged in animated conversation with a nearby guest, oblivious to Hannah's discomfort.

Vincent's jaw tightened Without breaking his composure, he made a subtle gesture to the attendant standing quietly at his side.

Top-tier patrons were each assigned dedicated attendants

Vincent, voice pitched low. issued a quiet command. "A blue shawl's in my car. Go get it for the woman over there-right away."

The attendant gave a nearly invisible nod and slipped away.In no time, he came back, holding a deep blue velvet box-elegant and unmarked. He moved up the aisle without a sound.pausing at Hannah's seat. With practiced care, he set the box on the armrest beside her, then leaned in and murmured softly."Ma'am, Mr. Jones noticed the AC might be chilly. He hopes this will help you stay comfortable."

Without waiting for a response, he withdrew-his presence vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

Hannah blinked, caught off guard. She lifted the lid. Nestled inside was a midnight-blue cashmere shawl, impossibly soft, the very picture of understated luxury.

Claude turned just in time to catch the glint of deep blue velvet-and the instant he recognized the fabric, his easy smile faltered for a heartbeat. He reached over, deft and unhesitating,catching her wrist before she could lift the shawl.With gentle but unyielding authority, he swept it aside.

"Hold on," he murmured, the softness in his voice undercut by quiet command. "That shade's much too severe for this room

quiet command. "That shade's much too severe for this room It'll drown you out."

Before Hannah could answer, Claude was already sliding out of his tailored jacket, draping it across her shoulders with practiced care. "Here. This suits you far better."

Warmth settled over her shoulders. The luxurious shawl Vincent had sent over now lay forgotten, its velvet box closed with a quiet finality beneath Claude's hand.

Vincent watched it all unfold-expression unreadable,jaw tight -as Hannah rejected his gesture and instead wore Claude's jacket. It was a glaring sight.

"Ladies and gentlemen." The auctioneer's voice rang out, riding a fresh surge of anticipation through the room. "Now, let's move on to tonight's grand finale-The Tear of Andara."

A narrow spotlight swept over a rare, raw emerald resting atop black velvet. Inside its crystalline depths shimmered a pale,frozen lattice-an ice-like structure perfectly preserved by chance and time. Beyond its beauty, the emerald was rumored to conceal geological secrets-clues that could guide the Jones Group to an elusive mineral vein.

Claude sat forward in his seat, sharp eyes tracking every flicker of the bidding display. He raised his paddle repeatedly, each gesture crisp and impatient, hunger barely masked beneath a veneer of composure.

The room buzzed as bid lights flared in rapid succession, the price rocketing higher with each passing second.

Vincent, his face unreadable, betrayed nothing. His left hand hovered over the bidding tablet, fingers moving with mechanical precision. Every bid he placed landed like a silent gauntlet thrown-methodical,relentless, and utterly cold.

When the bid edged toward the unthinkable, the entire room fell into a hush. Breath caught in every throat. Only Claude's

fell into a hush. Breath caught in every throat. Only Claude's daring stare sliced through the tension.

Vincent didn't flinch. He pressed the button again, and the display blazed to life with a number so astronomical that even the seasoned auctioneer stumbled.

"We have ten million-front row. Mr. Jones." The auctioneer's voice trembled with awe, echoing through the spellbound hall.

The gavel fell, sealing the outcome.

Vincent stood, slow and unhurried, every movement rippling with unspoken authority as the room froze around him. A hundred eyes tracked him-some stunned, some awed-while he offered the auctioneer a faint, imperious nod. It was the kind of gesture that erased all doubt about who ruled the night.

He kept his injured hand concealed at his side, the pristine white bandage nearly invisible.

Whispers swept the crowd as the tension broke and people began to stir.

Claude slipped an arm over Hannah's shoulders, projecting easy confidence as he navigated through the crowd and toward Vincent and Miles, who were now hemmed in by a tight ring of high-rollers and society's elite.

"Congratulations, Mr. Jones." Claude's smile was cold perfection as he extended his hand, every inch the gracious rival."That kind of determination-you won't find it anywhere else in this room."

Vincent didn't acknowledge the handshake. His eyes swept right past Claude, landing unwaveringly on Hannah.

The tailored jacket wrapped around Hannah's shoulders burned in Vincent's sight, impossible to ignore.

"Excuse me." Vincent's voice slid through the tension, cold and

"Excuse me." Vincent's voice slid through the tension, cold and crisp, as he advanced without acknowledging Claude's presence.

Claude, sharp enough not to interfere, moved aside in silence.

Walking past where Hannah and Claude sat, Vincent's eyes caught a glimpse of something beneath the chairs. The shawl he'd sent-a midnight-blue swath of cashmere-lay tossed aside, carelessly forgotten, its elegance lost in a careless heap.Hannah hadn't bothered to take it with her. She'd left it behind like an afterthought.

For just an instant, Vincent's confident pace wavered, a crack in his relentless composure.