Chapter 54
Serena
But I didn't move.
Not yet.
Because the expressions on Wesley and Vanessa's faces were too perfect to rush past. Wesley looked like someone had just told him gravity had stopped working—his mouth hanging slightly open, his eyes darting between me and the security guard like he was trying to solve an impossible equation.
And Vanessa?
Vanessa looked like she'd just bitten into something rotten.
"Wait." Her voice came out sharp, disbelieving. She turned to the security guard with barely controlled panic. "You checked properly, right? You didn't—you didn't accidentally add an extra zero or something?"
The guard's expression remained professionally neutral. "The system is quite accurate, ma'am."
"But—" Wesley stepped forward, his voice taking on that entitled edge I knew so well. "You're sure that card belongs to her? To Serena Vance specifically? Because her family is bankrupt. They don't have—"
"The card is registered to Miss Serena Vance, sir." The guard's tone had gone slightly cooler. "And I can confirm the available funds meet our requirements."
He turned back to Vanessa, and his expression shifted—from respectful deference to polite dismissal. "Miss Holland, I'm going to have to ask you to step back from the entrance. You do not meet the five million dollar minimum requirement. I'm sorry, but that's our policy."
"WHAT?" Vanessa's voice climbed several octaves. "Did you just tell me to step back? Do you have any idea who I am? I'm Vanessa Holland! My family is one of the four founding families of New York society! My net worth is—"
"Your available liquid assets are four point two million dollars, ma'am." The guard's voice remained maddeningly calm. "Your identity and family connections are not in question. However, this auction house has clear minimum requirements—"
"This is BULLSHIT!" Vanessa's composure shattered completely. "My identity isn't enough? My family name isn't enough?"
"I'm afraid not, ma'am. Company policy."
Chloe tugged gently on my arm, her eyes dancing with barely suppressed laughter. "Come on, let's go inside—"
"Not yet." I kept my voice low, just for her. "I checked the catalog online. The piece I want is lot number five. That means at least four other items go first." I glanced back at the scene unfolding before us—Vanessa's face flushing darker with each passing second, Wesley shifting uncomfortably beside her. "And honestly? This show is way more entertaining than anything inside could be."
"You're evil," Chloe whispered, grinning. "I love it."
VaVanessa whirled on Wesley, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his arm hard enough to leave marks. "Wesley! Do you have money or not? Give me eight hundred thousand! My father cut off my supplemental allowance last month—said I was being too 'frivolous'—and I can't pull that much together by myself right now!"
Wesley's face went through several shades of red. "I—well, the money I had saved up this month, I, uh... I spent it yesterday. On those roses you wanted." He tugged at his collar, not meeting her eyes. "So right now, I don't exactly have—"
"Oh, this is precious." I couldn't help myself. I took a step closer, my voice dripping with false sympathy. "Let me guess, Wesley. Your uncle Lance is still controlling your trust fund? Still giving you that monthly allowance like you're a teenager with a paper route?"
His jaw clenched. "Serena—"
"It's so sad," I continued, warming to my theme. "Here you are, trying to play with the adults at a real auction house, but you still need permission to spend your own money." I tilted my head thoughtfully. "Maybe you should take your little girlfriend home. You two could play with blocks or something. You know, activities more appropriate for your financial maturity level."
"You BITCH—" Wesley lunged forward.
"Wesley!" Vanessa's shriek stopped him mid-step. Her hand wrapped around his wrist, yanking him back with surprising force. "I don't care how you feel about that slut right now. I need you to get me that money. Figure it out. Call someone. Do something!"
The desperation in her voice was almost palpable. This wasn't just about getting into the auction anymore—this was about not being publicly humiliated in front of New York society. About not being the girl who got turned away at the door while her ex-boyfriend's former girlfriend walked right in.
"Or what?" The words slipped out before Wesley could stop them, his voice carrying a bitter edge I'd never heard before. "What happens if I can't produce eight hundred thousand dollars in the next five minutes, Vanessa?"
She went very still. When she spoke, her voice was ice. "Then we're done."