The first few items sold quickly ── a rare bottle of wine, a designer handbag, a limited-edition watch. The bidding kept rising and rising, fueled by rich people wanting to win. It was wild to watch all that money thrown around like it was nothing he bidding just kept going higher, driven by affluent people wanting to win. It was amazing to see all that money being thrown around like it was nothing. It made me a little sick, honestly.
Adrien remained silent, Nothing changed in his expression. He sat quietly, like a silent hunter in a room full of easy prey. Or he was prey too; trapped in the fancy trap.
Suddenly, the auctioneer announced the next item: "Lot number seven: A breathtaking bronze sculpture by Edgar Deg Then the auctioneer introduced the next item: "Lot number seven: a stunning bronze sculpture by Edgar Degas called 'Danseuse au Repos.' This piece hardly ever shows up in private collections and captures the fleeting beauty of a ballerina at rest."
A light fell upon the sculpture—a delicate rendering of a ballerina seated on a bench, her head bowed, her body eminating a tired grace. It was undeniably beautiful and had a sorrowful loveliness that speaks to me.
The bidding started high and escalated quickly. The paddles waved frantically, the numbers climbing into the millions. I glanced at Adrien, wondering if this was something he was interested in.
He was watching the bidding intently, but his face gave nothing away.
A woman two rows in front of us, adorned in a red dress that barely concealed her assets hesitated, glancing at a gentleman with silver hair. He met her gaze, a silent challenge passing between them.
Finally, she shook her head, a tight smile on her face. The gentleman with silver hair raised his paddle.
"Three million five hundred thousand!" she announced, her voice cutting through the auctioneer's chant.
The room went silent. That was a hefty bid.
The auctioneer scanned for more bidders. "Going once… going twice…
Just as he was about to knock the gavel down, Adrien raised his paddle.
"Four million."
A collective gasp filled the room. The woman in red's posture had visibly stiffened.
The auctioneer's eyes lit up. "And we have four million from Mr. Walton! Do I hear four million five hundred thousand?"
The woman in red glared at Adrien but He didn't even acknowledge her.
"Four million five hundred thousand!" she practically shouted.
Adrien's jaw ticked again. He looked at me, a strange look in his eyes.
Then he raised his paddle again. "Five million."
The room was in an uproar. Five million dollars for a sculpture? It was insane.
Just then, the woman in red rose from her seat, her face beet red. "Five million five hundred thousand!"
This was turning into a personal battle. A billionaire fight between two monsters of wealth.
Adrien looked at me, squeezing my hand under the velvet armrest. "What do you think?" he murmured, his voice barely audible above the murmur of the crowd. "Worth it?"
I looked at the sculpture and then back at him. The question wasn't about the sculpture. It was about something else entirely. Maybe a test? A challenge?
I shook my head slightly. "No."
I saw a brief flicker across his face I couldn't read. Relief? Respect?.
He turned back to the auctioneer, lowered his paddle and smiled. "I'm out."
The room erupted in applause. The woman in red was grinning as the auctioneer banged the gavel, declaring her the winner. She tossed her hair back and posed for every camera around her.
Adrien leaned closer to me. "As I expected."
"You weren't actually going to buy it, were you?"
He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the woman in red. "Sometimes, it's more fun to watch them fight over scraps." He turned to me, and he was smiling again, a genuine, almost wicked smile. "Besides, I have my eye on something much more valuable."
I nodded. "Is the necklace coming up soon?"
"Patience," he said quietly. "The best is always last."
Item after item was presented and sold – a rare Warhol painting, a first-edition book, a designer handbag with diamond embelishment. The price tags were provoking, the atmosphere electric. My own nerves were mostly fading, and were turning into an odd sense of detachment; I was a spectator in a strange production watching the ultra-rich play their own games.
Finally, the auctioneer's voice boomed through the room, signaling the last big item. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the piece de resistance of the evening: a magnificent emerald and diamond necklace, crafted by the renowned Parisian jeweler, Etienne Moreau, in 1928. This breathtaking piece, known as The Serpent's Kiss, has been locked away in a private collection for decades. Tonight it makes its first appearance, a symbol of timeless beauty and enduring power."
A spotlight lit the velvet pedestal and there it was. A beautiful necklace. A long serpentine form made of platinum and diamonds, positioned around a large emerald cabochon. The emerald glowed like it held fire and was compellingly captivating.
A collective gasp swept through the room. A collective gasp filled the room. Even I, who didn't know much about jewelry, could see it was incredibly crafted and valuable.
Adrien's grip tightened on my hand. "Here we go," he whispered.
The bidding started at a cool thirty thousand dollar. I watched in awe as the numbers climbed as the bidders awoke feelings of passion and ego in not pampered ways. sixty, seventy, eighty… The auctioneer's voice became a rapid-fire drone, urging the bidders higher and higher.
Then I heard the familiar voice of the woman who bought the sculpture. Her gaze was locked on the necklace as she raised her paddle. "hundred thousand!"
Someone else raised theirs in the middle of the room.
"Two hundred,"
The auctioneer nodded. "Do I have two-twenty?"
Another hand went up. Then another. Two-fifty. Two-seventy-five. Three hundred.
Beside me, Adrien still hadn't moved. He flipped a page in the catalog like he wasn't watching at all.
"You're not bidding?" I asked, still watching the necklace.
"Patience." He replied.
The auctioneer grinned. "Three-fifty—three-seventy-five. Four hundred thousand. Do I hear four-twenty?"
The crowd was quiet.
And then Adrien casually raised his paddle.
"Eleven million," he said calmly, barely heard above the chatter.
The woman's eyes narrowed. She turned her head slightly, as if acknowledging Adrien's challenge. "Twelve million," she shot back, her tone fierce
Adrien turned his head to me, looking calm. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards and his voice low, he said, "Hang on." Then he raised his paddle.
"Fifteen million."
The ballroom went silent. Fifteen million was a bold bid, a clear signal that Adrien Walton was not playing around.
The woman glared at him, taut with anger. He met her stare without blinking.
She hesitated, fingers hovering over her paddle. The auctioneer leaned in, sensing the tension.
Finally, with a defeated sigh, she lowered her hand. "I'm out," she said, her voice laced with defeat.
A wave of applause filled the ballroom. The auctioneer slammed his gavel. "Sold! To Mr. Adrien Walton, for fifteen million!"
Adrien didn't react. He just lowered his paddle and looked at me, his expression unreadable. "Well?" he asked. "Did you like my performance?"
I turned to him slowly. "you just spent fifteen millions on a necklace like it was nothing?"
He shrugged. "Consider it an investment. And a powerful statement."
He took my hand again. "Now, for the real show."
He stood while pulling me up with him. "Let's make sure everyone saw who I bought it for."