Chapter 59
Serena
Gasps rippled through the auction hall like a shockwave. People half-rose from their seats, craning their necks for a better view.
Beside me, Chloe had gone completely still, her champagne flute frozen halfway to her lips. Her eyes were wide with shock, darting between Vanessa's triumphant face and my own. I could practically hear the gears turning in her head, trying to process what had just happened, trying to figure out our next move.
I took a slow, deliberate sip of my own champagne, savoring the crisp bubbles on my tongue while the room held its collective breath waiting for my reaction.
"Serena," Chloe hissed, her voice barely above a whisper but laced with urgency. "What the fuck just happened? Where did she get—"
"Exactly as I predicted," I said quietly, my tone so casual it made her head snap toward me.
"What?" She blinked rapidly, confusion replacing shock. "What are you talking about? You predicted this?"
I set down my glass with deliberate care, my gaze never leaving Vanessa's back. She was still standing, basking in the attention, one hand resting possessively on Wesley's shoulder while he looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. The messenger who'd delivered whatever miracle card they were now wielding had already disappeared, but his presence lingered like a ghost in the room.
"Felix," I said simply, and watched understanding dawn across Chloe's face.
"Oh my God." Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "Felix said he'd make sure you didn't get the painting. You refused his help, so he—"
"Went to Plan B," I finished for her, allowing myself a small, bitter smile. "If I won't be his pawn, he'll use the pawns already in play. Wesley and Vanessa are perfect—desperate enough to be grateful, stupid enough to think they're getting something for free."
Chloe's eyes widened further as the full picture came into focus. "He's backing them. That card Wesley got—it's Felix's money."
"Has to be." I crossed my legs, the picture of composure even as my heart hammered against my ribs. "Arthur's birthday is in two weeks. Felix knows this painting is the key to Arthur's heart. If Wesley and Vanessa show up with it as a gift, they become the golden couple in Arthur's eyes. Felix gets his influence, they get their status boost, and I—"
"Get left with nothing," Chloe finished, her voice hollow.
Not quite nothing, I thought, but I kept that to myself.
The auctioneer had recovered from his shock, his professional mask sliding back into place. "We have a bid of ten million, ten thousand dollars," he announced, his voice carrying across the now-silent room. Every eye in the hall had turned toward me, waiting to see if the fallen Vance heiress would dare to continue this very public battle.
I could feel their judgment like a physical weight—the whispers, the speculation, the barely concealed glee at watching someone from an old family reduced to this spectacle. Three years ago, it would have crushed me. I would have shrunk in my seat, cheeks burning with humiliation, convinced they were right to dismiss me as irrelevant.
But that girl was dead.
I drew in a slow breath, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make them uncomfortable, to make Vanessa's smile grow wider with premature victory. Then I met Chloe's panicked gaze and gave her the tiniest shake of my head.
Trust me.
"Serena," she whispered urgently, her hand finding my arm. "We can't match that. Eleanor loaned you ten million—they know exactly what your budget is. We're tapped out. Maybe we should just—"
Her words cut off as my hand closed over hers, firm but gentle. I kept my eyes locked on Vanessa's back, watching the way her shoulders had relaxed now that she thought she'd won, the way Wesley leaned into her touch like a dog desperate for approval.
They had no idea what was coming.
I rose to my feet in one fluid motion, and the room's attention snapped to me like a rubber band pulled taut. The whispers died instantly. Even the auctioneer paused, his gavel hovering in midair.
"Fifteen million dollars," I said clearly, my voice carrying across the stunned silence with perfect, devastating calm.
The explosion of sound was immediate and deafening. Gasps, exclamations, a few scattered laughs of disbelief. Someone behind us actually shouted "Holy shit!" before remembering where they were. The auctioneer's eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline.
But I only cared about two reactions.
Vanessa whirled around so fast she nearly lost her balance, her face cycling through shock, rage, and something close to panic in rapid succession. Wesley looked like he'd been punched in the stomach, his mouth falling open in a way that might have been comical if I had any humor left in me.
Beside me, Chloe made a strangled sound that was half-gasp, half-scream. I stomped on her foot—not hard, just enough to cut off whatever protest was about to erupt. She bit her lip so hard I worried she might draw blood, but she stayed quiet.
"Trust me," I murmured again, so low only she could hear. "They'll follow."
And I was right.
Wesley's face had gone from shocked to absolutely murderous. Even from this distance, I could see his lips moving in what looked like a vicious curse. The words were inaudible over the crowd's noise, but I was pretty sure I caught "fucking" and "insane" in the mix. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and for a moment I thought he might actually try to storm over here.
Vanessa's expression had shifted too—the triumphant glow replaced by something harder, more calculating. Her jaw was set, her eyes narrowed as she stared at me with undisguised hatred.
"Serena," Chloe hissed beside me, her voice shaking with barely controlled panic. "What the actual fuck are you doing? We don't have fifteen million dollars! We don't have anywhere close to fifteen million dollars! If they don't bid and you're stuck with this painting, you'll have to pay, and when you can't—oh God, this is illegal, isn't it? Making bids you can't cover? You could go to jail!"