Chapter 126: The Hidden Auction

Leitana’s eyes darted around, trying to locate Lafu amid the swirl of masks and gowns. The ballroom felt even more overwhelming now, too many people, too much light, too much sound. She moved carefully through the crowd, emerald silk whispering against her legs with every step, the weight of her mask suddenly heavier than before.

Then she saw her.

Lafu stood near a pillar, smiling and chatting with a small group of three men in tuxedos and two women in glittering dresses. Their laughter floated over the music. Lafu’s silver half-mask caught the chandelier light as she turned her head, and her eyes found Leitana instantly. She excused herself from the group with a graceful nod and waved Leitana over.

Leitana hurried across the floor, careful not to catch her heels on the long red carpet runner.

When she reached Lafu, the older woman turned fully, smile warm but eyes sharp.

“Madame Élodie,” Lafu said smoothly in French, loud enough for the group to hear. “Venez, je vous présente.” (Come, I introduce you)

She switched to English for the others.

“Everyone, this is Madame Élodie Duval, my employer. She’s… particular about language. French only.”

The group smiled politely, curious, charmed.

One of the men bowed slightly. “Enchanté, Madame Duval. I’m Victor Langston. This is my wife, Elena, and our associates, Greg Harlan and his wife Mary and Ted Crowe.”

Leitana curtsied awkwardly but gracefully and murmured in French, “Enchantée.”

Lafu translated smoothly the rest of their exchange.

Leitana kept her responses short, mysterious, eccentric exactly as rehearsed. She smiled behind her gold-and-emerald filigree mask, nodded at the right moments, and let Lafu handle most of the conversation. The group asked polite questions about “investments in talent,” “exclusive arrangements,” "What she does.” Leitana answered in soft, melodic French, letting Lafu relay everything in English.

After a few minutes of small talk, art, travel, vague “sponsorship interests”Lafu leaned close to Leitana’s ear, voice dropping to a whisper in French.

“I’ve been talking to these people. It seems the real event is upstairs. An auction.”

Leitana blinked, confused.

“Qu’est-ce qu’une auction?” she whispered back. (What’s an auction?)

Lafu excused them smoothly. “Madame Duval needs a moment”and guided Leitana to a quiet corner near a large curtain.

Once they were out of earshot, Lafu spoke in English.

“Leitana, I got good information on what’s really happening here. The main thing is upstairs. See that grand staircase with the long rug?”

Leitana looked, eyes wide. A sweeping spiral staircase rose at the far end of the ballroom, red carpet runner thick and luxurious, disappearing into shadows above.

She nodded.

Lafu continued.

“What I pieced together from what they said, though they’re trying to be discreet, but the champagne loosens tongues, and they think we’re all here for the same reason. The models and other people who need sponsors—will go through an auction upstairs. They come out one by one, and the highest bidder gets them. For the night. A week. Days. Months. Years. It’s not always an auction, but this time… I guess it is.”

Leitana’s hand flew to her chest. Horror bloomed in her eyes.

“Mon Dieu…” she whispered. (My God…)

Lafu nodded grimly.

“We have to go upstairs too. Listen in. Our wires will catch every word. Every name. Every offer. If we can record even one transaction,proof that models are being sold for gigs, for their bodies—we have them.”

Leitana swallowed hard. “Okay.”

Lafu studied her for a moment.

“And yes, that guy you were dancing with… how did it go?”

Leitana sighed, slightly conflicted.

“Mi know him,” she admitted in Bislama creole, voice low. “From mi first party. De one mi go with Ravial. Him name Elias Monroe.”

Lafu’s eyes widened.

“Elias Monroe? Wow.”

Leitana blinked. “Yu know him?”

Lafu laughed, incredulous.

“No, him? The entire country knows him the way they know your husband. Monroe Holdings is one of the biggest in the country, tech, real estate, investments. And he’s not Old money.”

Leitana nodded slowly.

Then quietly:

“Him also brother to Celeste.”

Lafu froze.

“What did you say?”

Leitana repeated it in French, voice trembling.

“He said he was her half-brother. He's de black sheep of de family. He was disowned very young. He was not close to her… but her death shake him. Especially their parents. Dey adore her.”

Lafu stared at her, shocked.

“I knew Celeste for years,” she whispered. “She never once told me about any half-brother.”

Leitana frowned. “Huh… really.”

Lafu nodded sloy, troubled.

“I don’t know. Just… be careful around him, okay?”

Leitana nodded.

Lafu squeezed her arm.

“Let’s get you a champagne. I want to mingle more—see if I can hear anything else.”

Leitana nodded again.

Lafu walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Leitana sighed and looked around.

Just like last time she was at a party like this, she felt out of place. Too small. Too simple. Too… herself. But when she was talking to Elias, she hadn’t felt out of place. He’d made her laugh. Made her feel better.

She thought to herself: Maybe mi should have taken his drink offer.

But she needed to tell lafu what she found out about him, so she had to decline.

She sighed again.

Then she turned to the champagne table.

She lifted one flute, bubbles rising like tiny stars and brought it to her lips.

She smiled at the taste, light, sharp, fizzy.

Just then a voice whispered behind her.

“Is it to your taste?”

Leitana turned.

Her eyes raised up…up…to a tall man in a mask.

He was so close.

Her heart thudded against her chest.