Chapter 745 VIP
Hayley’s POV:
Our group soon arrived at the VIP lounge.
“Ms. Carson, if you need anything, just let the servers outside know. They’ll do their best to assist you,” the man said with a polite nod. “I have other matters to attend to, so I’ll excuse myself now.”
As he spoke, he gave Henry and the others a courteous nod. But when his gaze passed over Zayd, it lingered for just a second longer.
I caught that subtle pause and stopped him with a calm voice. “Hold on. You haven’t even told me your name. I can’t exactly call you randomly, can I?”
“My mistake,” he said, stepping back respectfully. “Nelson Smith. Ms. Carson, you may use my full name if you prefer.”
“Nelson Smith?” Henry laughed, nudging Zayd with his elbow. “Hey, he’s got the same last name as you. Could he be your long-lost big brother?”
Zayd’s face didn’t change. He didn’t even bother responding.
Nelson offered a light chuckle and explained, “That’s a misunderstanding. Smith isn’t my real surname. It’s just a code name given to me by Fate Corporation.”
“Oh, I see.” Henry nodded, then turned back to tease Zayd again. “Well, since you’re also a Smith, maybe if you worked for Fate Corp, you’d be even more successful than him, huh?”
“No,” Zayd said curtly, as curt with his answer as ever.
Henry pouted and said, “Man, I can’t even joke with you. You’re no fun.”
Nelson let out a quiet laugh and finally took his leave.
We settled into our seats just as the auction officially began.
Our box was on the left side of the second floor, with a clear view of Nelson on stage as he took up the role of host and auctioneer.
Not long after, someone arrived at the most prestigious seats on the second floor.
I turned my head–and locked eyes with Truman.
I wasn’t sure why, but even though I was certain this was my first time seeing his face, those eyes felt strangely familiar.
I had Hera sniff out his scent from where we sat, but she didn’t recognize it.
Truman’s expression was unreadable. Still, he gave me a slight nod in greeting.
Henry, seated beside me, happened to notice the brief exchange of looks and misread it as we were flirting.
Without a word, he stood and stepped into Truman’s line of sight, glaring at him with a silent warning.
It was as if he were standing in for his brother, trying to ward Truman off like some overprotective guard dog, silently declaring, “She’s my brother’s destined mate. Back off.”
Truman met Henry’s gaze, then gave a cool, almost amused smile before turning his head away.
“Yeah, walk away,” Henry muttered under his breath.
I sighed and gave Henry a helpless look but didn’t bother explaining.
Soon, the first item was brought out for auction.
It was a rough gemstone weighing around 90 pounds. The top-left corner had been lightly polished, revealing a glimmer of vibrant green beneath–crystal-clear, rich in color, smooth, and glossy. It immediately drew the eye.
“No way I’m wrong about this. That’s gotta be emerald!” someone shouted.
The crowd erupted with excitement.
Still, not everyone agreed. “Maybe it looks good on the outside, but who’s to say the inside matches?”
“Are you serious? A stone this size–if even half of it is gemstone, it’s worth a fortune!”
“That’s a big ‘if.’ What if the gemstone’s only in that one corner and the rest is junk? You’d lose every penny.”
Despite the debate, everyone knew the rules of the game: rough stones that show even a glimpse of quality are priced higher than ones with no visible clues at all.
But no one could ever say for sure whether the rest of the stone was truly as good as it looked. There was always the risk of a fracture line–what they called a false core.
If the gemstone made up less than five percent of the entire stone, then it was no better than any old rock you’d trip over in the street.
I only gave it a passing glance, then turned my attention back to the coffee the server had brought.
That raw stone might produce a small section of gemstone, but it wasn’t worth my bid.
The coffee, on the other hand, was excellent–rich and smooth, with a lingering aroma that made me nostalgic. It reminded me of those days I spent on the run, hiding from my enemies and selling coffee on the streets as a rogue.
But down on the first floor, plenty of people clearly saw that stone as a ticket to sudden wealth. Bidding climbed higher and higher, round after round, until it finally closed at four million.
“Damn,” I murmured, a bit surprised. “That wasn’t cheap.”
No wonder Freya and Celine talked about rock betting with that superior, snobby attitude. If you didn’t have at least a few hundred million in your pocket, you couldn’t even afford to lose in this business.
Several more raw stones were brought out in quick succession, but I barely spared them a glance–never once joined the bidding.
Still, in the quiet corner of the room, Freya’s smug little voice reached my ears. “Figures. Just another clueless Omega.” She scoffed. “So what if she’s in a VIP box? You can’t cover up poor with perfume.”
Snorting softly, I let it go. Not worth arguing over.
I’d let her live for now. I had more important things to do and plenty of ways to make sure she got what she deserved, in due time.
Toward the end of what had been a rather dull string of lots, a raw stone with the strangest, most fascinating coloration was finally brought up to the platform and placed before the auction stand.