Chapter 127: An Invitation from the Rothschild Family

Inside the Auction Booth

"Mr. Rothschild! You have to help me!"

"That damn nouveau riche was completely out of line! Not only did he humiliate me in front of everyone, but he also… he's got three drop-dead gorgeous women with him! I'm sure he's deliberately here to cause trouble! You absolutely have to do something!"

Wilmer knelt on the floor, embellishing wildly as he recounted everything that had just happened at the auction.

According to his version, Leo had become an arrogant thug who threw his money around, not only ruthlessly suppressing the Finley family but openly declaring he didn't give a damn about the Rothschild family either.

However, after hearing Wilmer's sob story, Edgar Rothschild merely swirled the wine in his glass with a bored expression, his deep blue eyes flashing with utter disdain.

"Wilmer, you're pathetic."

Edgar let out a cold laugh, looking down at him with contempt. "You got yourself scammed out of eight million dollars because you're an idiot. That's on you."

"He's just some tech nouveau riche from Silicon Valley. Even if he's carrying a Swiss Bank supreme black card, he's got no business acting up on European soil. But… why would I lower myself to deal with him just because a waste like you got played?"

"Mr. Rothschild!"

Wilmer broke out in a cold sweat and crawled forward on his knees, desperately clutching Edgar's pant leg. "After all these years the Finley family has served you and your family like dogs, you can't abandon me now! He's not just insulting me—he's insulting you!"

Edgar jerked his leg away in disgust. He was about to have someone drag this embarrassment out when Wilmer, in a flash of desperate inspiration, shouted, "Wait! That Warren guy has three women with him! Absolute knockouts!"

"I swear, I've been with plenty of women, but I've never seen anyone at that level! Even Hollywood A-listers and those royal princesses couldn't hold a candle to them!"

"Is that so?"

At those words, Edgar—who'd been nothing but contemptuous—paused slightly, a possessive gleam igniting in his eyes.

As a son of the Rothschild family, his greatest hobby in life was collecting the world's most elite women.

Women who could make the woman-obsessed Wilmer lose his composure like this? That instantly piqued his interest.

"Three absolute knockouts…"

Edgar licked his lips, a cold, amused smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "Interesting. What's some Silicon Valley upstart doing with that caliber of playthings?"

He turned to his head bodyguard. "Paxton, go to the auction hall. Give my card to this Mr. Franklin. Tell him to stay after the auction ends. Say I'd like to 'make his acquaintance'—and meet those three beautiful ladies he's brought along."

Hearing that Edgar was finally taking action, Wilmer nearly exploded with joy.

But blinded by jealousy and hatred, he eagerly lifted his head. "Mr. Rothschild! Since you've got your eye on his women, why wait until the auction ends? This is your turf! Let's have the guards go in right now, break his legs, and strip those three women naked for your bed!"

The moment Wilmer finished speaking, Edgar delivered a vicious kick to his chest!

"Ah!" Wilmer screamed, tumbling down the pavilion steps and clutching his chest as he dry-heaved in pain.

"Idiot! Absolute imbecile!"

Edgar withdrew his foot, staring down at him with icy eyes. "Tonight is the Rothschild family's century auction. All of Europe is watching! You want me to publicly rob a billionaire carrying a supreme black card of his women? Are you trying to destroy our family's reputation?!"

Wilmer trembled in terror, stammering apologies. "I'm sorry… I was wrong… I got too carried away…"

At that moment, Paxton leaned close to Edgar's ear and said quietly, "Mr. Rothschild, please calm down. And don't forget—tonight's auction is a trap laid by the head of the family and the Valois family."

"Our real prey is Leo! Until that monster shows up, we absolutely cannot cause any disturbance in the hall that might create chaos."

Hearing the name "Leo," Edgar took a deep breath, his expression becoming intensely grave and sinister.

Of course he knew what tonight's main event was.

"You're right."

Edgar let out a cold laugh and picked up his wine glass again. "Our net is already set. We're just waiting for that arrogant bastard Leo to walk right into it. As for this Warren from Silicon Valley, he's just an appetizer for tonight's feast."

"Once we've dealt with Leo, I'll have all the time in the world to enjoy Mr. Franklin's black card—and those three exquisite women of his—in my private dungeon."

Edgar waved dismissively. "Paxton, take this stupid dog back with you to deliver my card. Remember—be polite. Don't scare off our appetizer prematurely."

"Yes, sir!"

Back in the Auction Hall

Inside the auction hall, the atmosphere remained electric as several treasures were sold off.

Leo sat in his front-row super VIP seat, his expression languid.

Ivy and Serafina leaned against him on either side while Charlotte massaged his shoulders from behind. The four of them had become the most eye-catching focal point in the entire venue.

Just then, Wilmer—who'd fled in disgrace earlier—returned to the hall.

This time, however, Edgar's head bodyguard Paxton walked behind him.

With the Rothschild family backing him, Wilmer had shed his earlier defeat entirely, strutting with insufferable arrogance.

Under the watchful eyes of hundreds of guests, Paxton walked straight up to Leo.

He inclined slightly and drew from his jacket a black business card embossed with the Rothschild family's dark gold crest, presenting it to Leo with both hands.

"Mr. Franklin. My master, Edgar Rothschild, holds you in high regard."

Paxton's voice carried clearly to the surrounding nobility. "He specifically asked me to invite you to a private gathering in the inner courtyard after tonight's auction concludes. He very much hopes to make your acquaintance, and… he is extremely interested in the three beautiful companions at your side. He would like to meet them as well."

At those words, the European old-money aristocrats who'd been eavesdropping collectively gasped.

An invitation from Edgar Rothschild!

And he'd specifically mentioned Leo's women!

Anyone who moved in Viennese high society knew exactly what kind of man Edgar was.

No woman he'd set his sights on had ever escaped his grasp.

This wasn't some friendly invitation—it was a death warrant for both wealth and women!

"You hear that, buddy?"

Wilmer stood behind Paxton, staring at Leo with malicious glee. "Once Mr. Rothschild has his eye on you, even a hundred supreme black cards won't save you! Your money, your women—they all belong to Mr. Rothschild tonight!"

In Wilmer's mind, Leo would surely turn pale with terror and drop to his knees begging for mercy.

However.

Completely contrary to everyone's expectations.

Leo looked at the gilded card before him and not only showed no sign of panic—his lips actually curved into an unsettlingly excited smile.

"Edgar Rothschild?"

Leo's slender fingers picked up the card, toying with it casually, his eyes radiating a chilling arrogance. "Excellent. Go back and tell your master I gladly accept this invitation."

"And I'm very much looking forward to having a nice, 'in-depth exchange' with him in the inner courtyard shortly."

Hearing Leo accept so readily—even eagerly—the aristocrats in attendance looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

"He actually agreed!"

"Is this American for real? Can't he tell that's Mr. Rothschild's death sentence?"

"So naive! Does he think being worth billions puts him on Edgar's level?"

"Ignorant nouveau riche. Tonight he's not only going to bleed money—those three gorgeous women are probably going to be violated right in front of him by Mr. Rothschild."

Amid the murmuring, everyone looked at Leo with profound pity, as if viewing a dead man with one foot already in hell.

Wilmer could barely contain his laughter.

"Idiot! Hopeless idiot!"

Wilmer was ecstatic inside. Seeing Leo's seemingly clueless calm demeanor, his glee reached its peak. "Go ahead! Hurry and go! Once you're in the inner courtyard, I'll personally watch you kneel at Mr. Rothschild's feet and lick his shoes like a dog!"

Facing the surrounding mockery and Wilmer's triumph, Ivy and Serafina exchanged glances, barely suppressing their laughter.

These foolish European aristocrats.

They had no idea that the 'Reaper' they'd so carefully laid their trap for was now holding their own access pass, swaggering straight toward their lair.

Leo casually tossed the card onto the table, took a sip of champagne, his gaze dark.

The game was about to reach its climax.