Chapter 56
Serena
The auction hall was exactly what I'd expected—all hushed elegance and calculated wealth. Rows of padded chairs faced a raised platform where the auctioneer stood behind a podium, flanked by two assistants in crisp black suits. Oil paintings lined the walls, each one probably worth more than my family's brownstone.
Chloe and I found seats in the middle section—close enough to see clearly, far enough back to avoid drawing immediate attention. I set my paddle on my lap, number 847 printed in bold black letters, and glanced around the room.
Wesley and Vanessa sat three rows ahead and to the left. Vanessa's spine was rigid, her head held high like a queen surveying her kingdom. Wesley looked smaller beside her, his shoulders hunched slightly, still carrying the weight of their earlier confrontation.
I couldn't help the smile that curved my lips.
"Was I too harsh back there?" I asked Chloe quietly, keeping my eyes on the stage as the auctioneer began his opening remarks.
Chloe turned to look at me like I'd grown a second head. "Too harsh?" She actually laughed. "Serena, compared to what they put you through for three years? Compared to the public humiliation, the gaslighting, the way Wesley paraded Vanessa around while keeping you hidden like a dirty secret?" She shook her head. "What you said out there was practically friendly."
"I implied she was a—"
"You stated facts." Chloe's smile was sharp. "She needs money. You have money. That makes her uncomfortable. Not your problem."
The auctioneer's voice cut through our conversation. "Lot number four. A Hellenistic krater, circa 320 BCE, attributed to the workshop of the Marsyas Painter. Red-figure technique depicting Dionysian revelry. Authenticated by the Metropolitan Museum's Classical Department. Opening bid: four hundred thousand dollars."
The room came alive. Paddles shot up across the hall—quick, decisive movements from people who knew exactly what they wanted and had the resources to take it.
"Four hundred thousand!"
"Four-fifty!"
"Five hundred!"
I leaned forward slightly, studying the krater on display. The red figures were exquisite—dancers frozen mid-movement, their bodies captured with that perfect balance of idealization and anatomical accuracy that defined the Classical period. The glaze still held its luster after two millennia, which meant it had been preserved under near-perfect conditions.
"The paintwork is exceptional," I murmured to Chloe, half to myself. "See how the artist used diluted slip for the musculature? That level of detail in red-figure pottery is rare. And the composition—the way the figures wrap around the vessel in a continuous narrative—"
"You just said a lot of words I don't understand," Chloe interrupted, but she was smiling. "But keep going. I like watching you get excited about this stuff."
I glanced at her. "Really?"
"Really." Her expression softened. "I haven't seen you light up like this in years, Serena. Not since before Wesley. You look..." She paused, searching for the word. "Alive. Like yourself again."
Something warm bloomed in my chest. I opened my mouth to respond—
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number. A text message.
I almost ignored it. Almost. But something made me glance down at the screen.
Miss Vance, this is Felix Lawson. I hope you don't mind the intrusion—I acquired your number through professional channels. I understand you're at the Christie's auction today? And that you have particular interest in the Napoleon piece—The Coronation Moment: First Study?
My blood went cold.
How did he—
The text continued: I'm not currently in attendance, but I'd be happy to acquire the piece on your behalf. Consider it a gift. Please don't misunderstand—I simply have great admiration for your expertise and wanted to help. I imagine you'll need an appropriate present for Arthur's birthday celebration, and this seems perfect.
The phone felt hot in my hand. Burning. Dangerous.
"Fuck," I whispered.
Chloe leaned over. "What's—" She caught sight of the screen and her eyes went wide. "Holy shit. Is that Felix?"
How did he know? How did he know I wanted the Napoleon sketch? How did he know it was for Arthur? How did he know every single detail of my plan before I'd even—
He's been watching.
The realization hit like ice water. Felix had been tracking me since the moment I entered Lawson Capital. Maybe before.
And now he was offering me exactly what I needed.
Which meant it was a trap.
"Serena?" Chloe's voice pulled me back. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"He knows everything." My voice came out flat. "The auction. The Napoleon piece. That it's for Arthur. He's offering to buy it for me as a 'gift.'"
"Wait—Felix is offering to just... give you the painting?" Chloe's expression shifted from shock to something more calculating. "That's—I mean, that's incredibly generous. And Felix may be a lot of things, but he's not someone to underestimate. If he's offering—"
"It's not generosity. It's manipulation." I stared at the message, my mind racing. "If I accept this gift, I'm in his debt. I'm signaling that I'm willing to play his game, to accept his 'help.' And the second I do that—"
I stopped. Because the real answer was so clear it hurt.
If I accept Felix's gift, I align myself with him. And Lance will never forgive that.
Even if I won Arthur's approval with the painting. Even if I secured my place at the birthday gala. It wouldn't matter. Because Lance would see me as Felix's asset. Felix's pawn.
And I'd lose any chance of having him look at me the way I wanted—like I was someone worth choosing, not someone who'd been bought.
Chloe leaned closer, reading something in my expression. "I don't know what's going through your head, but that ten million for the auction? You borrowed that. You have to pay it back."
"So?" I kept my eyes on the stage.
"So if Felix is offering to just gift you the painting..." Chloe gestured at my phone. "You could save yourself a massive debt. Walk into Arthur's birthday with the perfect present and your bank account intact. I mean, why turn that down?"
I could practically see the logic of it. The smart, strategic move. The one that would keep me financially secure while accomplishing my goal.
But the image of Lance's face—the way he'd looked at me when he'd torn up Felix's business card, when he'd warned me what kind of man his cousin was—wouldn't leave my mind.
Lance, you better be worth this loyalty, I thought, my thumb hovering over the reply button. You better be worth choosing you over the easy path.
"Well?" Chloe was watching me with interest. "Are you going to take it? Because honestly, turning down a free masterwork painting seems insane."
"I already told you," I said, typing out my response. "I'm not that naive girl anymore. I don't accept gifts from men who smile while they sharpen their knives."
I hit send: Thank you for the generous offer, but I prefer to acquire things myself. I'm confident I can handle the bidding.
The reply came back within seconds.
Oh. How unfortunate.
Then, two seconds later: I forgot to mention—if you don't accept my help, you won't win that painting. I'll make sure of it.