Chapter 125: The Focus of Vienna
Vienna, Hofburg Palace
The Hofburg Imperial Palace, once the seat of Habsburg power, gleamed like a jewel in the night, radiating centuries of royal grandeur and opulence.
Its Baroque domes shimmered under the lights, while intricate reliefs told stories of the Holy Roman Empire's glory days.
Tonight, the Rothschild family had reserved the entire palace for a charity auction that had set all of European high society buzzing.
Outside the palace entrance, hundreds of luxury cars sat in perfect rows.
Tuxedoed gentlemen and elegantly dressed society ladies filed inside along velvet-carpeted walkways, guided by attentive staff.
"Mr. Finley, you're here!"
The butler stationed at the entrance immediately rushed forward with a respectful bow when he spotted Wilmer's Rolls-Royce Phantom pulling up.
Wilmer stepped out smugly, adjusting his custom white tuxedo—a two-hundred-thousand-euro piece.
He turned toward the three stunning women emerging from the back seat, his eyes gleaming with greed and lust.
"Ladies, having me escort you inside tonight is the greatest honor of your lives."
Wilmer extended his hand obsequiously toward Ivy.
But Ivy walked right past him in her heels, heading straight for Leo, who was stepping out of a black Maybach.
"Darling, shall we go in?"
Ivy took Leo's arm, her blue eyes brimming with affection.
Serafina and Charlotte giggled as they flanked Leo's other side, each claiming an arm.
The three gorgeous women surrounded Leo like a royal entourage as they headed toward the palace entrance.
Wilmer's hand froze mid-air. His smile turned to stone.
He glared at Leo's chiseled face, rage boiling inside him.
Just some American nouveau riche who thinks he's somebody. Once we're inside, I'll show you what happens when you cross me in Vienna.
Wilmer cursed silently as he hurried after them.
---
The Main Hall
The palace's grand ballroom could easily hold five hundred guests.
Priceless oil paintings and antique tapestries adorned the walls.
The massive crystal chandelier at the center had been hand-crafted two centuries ago by Bohemia's finest artisans. Each crystal was precisely cut to cast dreamlike patterns of light.
The hall was already packed with the European elite.
English dukes, French counts, German industrial titans, Italian fashion moguls...
Every single person commanded respect in their field.
But then.
When Leo entered the main hall with his three stunning companions, the entire buzzing room fell silent.
Every eye turned toward the striking figure surrounded by three thorned roses.
Leo wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo that hugged his body like it had been designed for a Greek war god.
His pristine white shirt and simple black bow tie radiated understated elegance.
His sharp, sculpted features and bottomless dark eyes projected an authority that made every man in the room feel inadequate.
And his three companions were breathtaking.
Ivy's wine-red deep-V velvet gown clung to her like liquid fire, her long pale legs flashing beneath the slit.
Serafina's semi-sheer black lace mermaid dress traced every dangerous curve of her body, her chest threatening to spill free.
Charlotte wore emerald silk haute couture that complemented her exotic, refined features and cool, aloof demeanor.
The three women together created an overwhelming presence that instantly reduced every other woman in the room to background noise.
"My God... who are those women?"
"They're stunning... like works of art..."
"Who's that man? To have three women like that on his arm..."
"Look at him—he's definitely not just anyone..."
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
Countless eyes—envious, jealous, awestruck—followed the quartet.
Meanwhile, Wilmer, trailing behind Leo, wore a smug grin.
He deliberately positioned himself beside Leo and announced loudly, "Sir, it's truly my honor to bring you here tonight! Not just anyone can enter Hofburg Palace—you should really thank me!"
Several nearby guests shot him looks of disdain.
"Oh, so Wilmer brought in some nobody..."
"I knew it. That nouveau riche vibe—definitely not one of us."
"Shame about those three women, though. They're wasted on him..."
Hearing the dismissive comments, Wilmer felt a surge of satisfaction.
This was exactly what he wanted—to humiliate this damn American in front of everyone.
However.
Leo didn't even glance at Wilmer.
He simply swept his gaze across the room, then led the three women directly toward the VIP seating near the auction stage.
That section was reserved only for top-tier guests.
---
The auction began.
A distinguished auctioneer in a tuxedo took the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Rothschild family's charity auction of the century. Tonight, we will auction ten rare treasures from European museums and private collections. All proceeds will be donated to the European Children's Charity Foundation."
Polite applause followed his announcement.
"Now, let me introduce our first item! An authentic work by Raphael, one of the three masters of the Italian Renaissance—Madonna and Child!"
"This painting is one of Raphael's masterpieces from his peak period and has remained in private hands. Opening bid: five hundred thousand euros!"
As staff carefully wheeled out the ornately framed painting, bidding erupted immediately.
"Seven hundred thousand euros!"
"Eight hundred fifty thousand!"
"One million euros!"
Wilmer saw his chance and raised his paddle high.
"One million euros! I bid one million!"
His voice boomed across the hall.
The auctioneer turned to him. "One million euros! This gentleman bids one million! Do I hear higher?"
Wilmer surveyed the room smugly.
He'd had his eye on this painting for a while—a gift for his father.
One million euros was already well above market value.
No one else would challenge him now.
But then.
Just as the auctioneer prepared to bring down the gavel—
"Five million euros."
A deep voice cut through the room.
It wasn't loud, but it reached every ear.
The crowd erupted.
All heads turned toward the source.
Leo sat in the front-row VIP section, casually leaning back with a cigar in hand, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Five million euros?"
Even the auctioneer froze, then shouted excitedly, "This gentleman bids five million euros! Do I hear higher?"
Wilmer's face turned scarlet.
He stared daggers at Leo, fury and humiliation burning in his chest.
Five million euros!
This bastard was doing this on purpose!
"Eight million euros!"
Wilmer raised his paddle through gritted teeth.
That price was insanely inflated.
But he refused to be outdone by some upstart!
Gasps echoed through the hall.
Everyone watched this unexpected bidding war unfold.
"Eight million euros! This gentleman bids eight million! Do I hear higher?"
Every eye turned to Leo again.
But Leo simply smiled and waved his hand dismissively.
"I'm out."
"What?!"
Wilmer froze.
So did the auctioneer.
So did everyone else.
"Eight million euros going once! Eight million going twice! Eight million going three times! Sold!"
Bang!
The gavel struck.
Wilmer mechanically raised his paddle, his face ashen.
He finally understood.
That son of a bitch never wanted the painting.
He'd just driven up the price to make Wilmer waste his money.