Chapter 110 Hollow Victory
❄︎ Viktor ❄︎
I leaned toward Adrian’s laptop, peering closely at the numbers on the glowing screen, and a new ID flashed across the top.
A seven hundred million dollar bid.
“Who the fuck is that?” I sneered.
Adrian fingers flew over the second laptop. It mirrored the auction but showed real names instead of anonymous numbers.
Finally, he exhaled, annoyed, and said, “Giannis Sanchez. Looks like the man has lofty ambitions. God knows where he scraped together seven hundred million from.”
“Can’t blame him. Every man deserves a chance to try his hand at greatness.” I leaned back casually.
He would only be trying though, not succeeding.
Adrian hummed an agreement.
“Top it,” I ordered.
His hands moved without hesitation, typing in seven-seventy. The screen blinked.
YOU ARE NOW THE HIGHEST BIDDER.
I caught the faintest mutter from him. “Cruel.”
I smirked, licking sugar from my thumb. “You’re the one pressing the buttons.”
Adrian snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just doing the menial work. You’re the mastermind.”
I set the dish of pastries on the center table calmly, brushing my fingers clean.
“As my underboss, you’re obligated to assist me in times when I’m down.”
He snorted harder. “You can’t milk me with errands much longer. We both know you’ve regained your memories. And you’re perfectly healthy.”
“I don’t have a laptop. Mine broke.”
“Bullshit.” He countered. “You’re just lazy because you know I’ll step in. What happened to the recent, brand new tech delivery I ordered? Untouched.”
I shrugged. “Haven’t gotten around to setting it up.”
His tongue clicked against his teeth in a sharp tut. He shook his head like a weary parent with a spoiled child.
And then…
A loud crash thundered from upstairs.
Both of us froze for a second, then turned our heads toward the ceiling in the same breath.
Rosa.
I was halfway up the stairs before I realized I was taking them three at a time. My pulse beat faster than I wanted to admit, and I reached the master bedroom door just as the lock snapped shut from inside.
The sound was sharp as a gunshot.
I froze, my hand raised, ready to knock.
Instead, I let my hand drop and stood there for a breath, before turning back down the stairs.
Adrian’s eyes lifted as soon as I reentered the room, inquisitive as always, but I ignored his look and went straight for the second laptop on the table.
He’d left it idling, still showing names matched with their bidder IDs. I minimized the page in a swift motion, though not before catching the flash of a familiar name… Dante Rinaldi, stamped beside a bid of 800 million.
I leaned back in my chair, rethinking everything assumption we had made.
When we first saw Dante’s name amongst the bidders, we’d thought that Rosa’s loyal manager had decided to gamble.
And had found a way to play with money he didn’t have. He couldn’t touch sums like that without her. Which meant… he had taken it without her persmission.
Either way, the betrayal was the same.
When Adrian and I had first traced bidder 2317 to Dante, I’d been amused. I’d planned to out him neatly after the auction, once I secured the hotel.
Because I would secure it. No one else in New York had the hunger or the resources I was willing to pour into this fight.
But the sound upstairs still echoed in my ears, making the certainty taste bitter.
I typed the password, and brought up a feed from the hidden camera in my master bedroom.
The video feed blinked awake, and the source of the crash revealed itself immediately.
Dishes were shattered on the floor, a chair knocked over, the entire room disturbed.
And Rosa.
On her knees before the laptop, her face wet, her fingers pressed together like she was whispering desperate prayers.
But why?
I stared at her, confused.
She had wanted to sell. She had said she was ready to let it go. So why did she look like this? Broken. Desperate.
Tears of joy? I thought about it for a heartbeat, but it didn’t fit. That wasn’t joy on her face.
“Just offered eight-twenty,” Adrian said lightly beside me, amused, “just to toy with Dante.”
I didn’t move my eyes from Rosa. She leaned forward and typed frantically, her hair spilling across her face.
I finally turned to glance at the mirrored screen. Dante’s account had just outbid us with 850 million.
Not Dante. Rosa.
The truth dragged my breath out of me.
She wasn’t letting it go.
The timer plummeted. Three seconds.
“Outbid him,” I snapped sharply.
Adrian’s fingers flew, and the number leapt to eight-seventy.
I turned my gaze back to the feed just in time to see Rosa rise, trembling, her face contorted in a raw scream.
In a blur of motion she flung the heavy table over, the laptop crashing down with it.
Her shoulders convulsed with each sob that ripped through her small frame until it seemed she might split apart right there on the floor.
I stayed watching, my pulse loud in my ears. For all the times I’d seen her fight, cry, or glare with fire in her eyes, this was something else entirely.
I dragged my gaze back to Adrian’s screen. The timer glowed brightly against the dark backdrop.
15… 10… 5… 4…
Adrian’s leaned back lesisurely. “If anyone outbids us at this point, they deserve the hotel.”
The numbers continued to drop steadily.
3… 2… 1… 0…
A congratulatory banner splashed across Adrian’s laptop.
Then a formal message about winning the round, waiting for the seller’s signature, and the rights of the hotel soon to transfer.
I couldn’t find it in my heart to celebrate. Not when she looked like that.
Adrian made a quiet, half-hearted cheer, fist-pumping the air before drumming his fingers against the metal edge of the laptop.
“Done and dusted.” He announced.
I wasn’t listening. My eyes had already shifted back to her.
Her laptop screen lit her face in fractured colors as she lifted it from the ground. She looked broken.
Kneeling there among shattered dishes and toppled furniture, her hands trembled so violently I could see it even through the feed.
“What’s wrong?” Adrian asked.
I didn’t answer.
Because just then, she dragged her finger across the glowing pad, scrawling out her digital signature.
And when it was done, she shoved the laptop away as if it had burned her palms.
Her cheeks glistened wet.
She wiped them once, twice, then crawled toward the bed, tugging the covers over her head like a child hiding from a nightmare.
The chaos of her wreckage, the food stained floor, the table skewed on its side… remained untouched around her.
I sat forward, staring, unease thickening in my chest.
What just happened?