THE AUCTION
1223 Words
Love At First Sight
Nerissa inhaled sharply, fury and fear warring inside her.
Her mouth opened, ready to demand details—
But Kendrick's smirk cut her off effortlessly.
"Would you like me," he asked lazily, "to tell you everything we did?"
Amelia's face ignited instantly.
Her ears burned red as she looked away, mortified.
"You! You! You!" Nerissa spluttered, scandalized. "But still — how could you marry so abruptly?!"
Amelia lifted her chin.
Her voice was calm. Certain.
"We fell in love at first sight."
She tightened her hold on Kendrick's arm, eyes shining with quiet resolve.
"Amelia Su!" Nerissa shouted, incredulous.
Kendrick slid an arm around Amelia's shoulders, drawing her closer. He pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head — slow, deliberate, unmistakably possessive.
"She is Amelia Yang now," he said coolly.
The declaration was final.
“….”
Nerissa went silent, rage simmering beneath disbelief.
Beryl sighed deeply, rubbing his temple. "Can you not be so… showy?"
Though he trusted Amelia's character — respected her intelligence and composure — his concern was unmistakable. He knew too well the cruelty of aristocratic circles.
He had watched Nerissa nearly crumble beneath their judgment once.
Now Amelia would become their newest fixation.
Their newest target.
And he hated it. Beryl sought to shield both Nerissa and Amelia from this inevitable storm.
The Auction Begins
Before the tension could escalate further, the host's voice rang out across the hall, rich and commanding.
"Ladies and gentlemen — welcome. The charity auction will now begin."
The lights dimmed.
The first item was unveiled: a collection of ancient weapons. Gleaming blades and ornate hilts drew collective gasps from the audience. Bidding paddles rose instantly, voices sharp with hunger as history itself was contested.
The atmosphere thickened with excitement.
Next came masterful paintings.
One calligraphy piece seized Nerissa's heart instantly.
Her posture straightened. Her gaze sharpened.
The bidding war was fierce — but Nerissa was relentless.
"Ten million."
The hammer fell.
She had won.
Beryl followed.
His target: a 1930 Patek Philippe Supercomplication Watch.
The numbers climbed mercilessly.
One hundred million.
One fifty.
Two hundred.
Beryl's voice never wavered.
When the hammer struck, murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Two hundred million dollars.
Kendrick leaned closer to Amelia, his voice a velvet whisper meant only for her.
"Tell me if you want anything," he murmured. "I'll buy them all."
Amelia smiled faintly.
But her attention never wavered.
Her gaze was fixed.
Locked.
Claimed.
The ruby necklace.
The crown jewel of the evening.
Even through the catalog pages, it radiated danger — brilliance sharpened by blood-red fire.
Amelia's fingers curled unconsciously.
"Um…" she murmured, eyes unwavering.
She wanted nothing else.
Only the ruby necklace.
And somewhere in the shadows—
Someone else was watching it too.
The Dragon's Chair
The commentator's voice rang out with theatrical flair, polished and dramatic, his words reverberating through the glittering hall like a spotlight sweeping across an expectant audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen — tonight, we are thrilled to present the second main highlight of the evening…"
The lights subtly shifted, drawing attention to the stage as staff rolled out a display platform draped in rich velvet.
"…the exquisite 'Dragon's Chair', dating back to 1917."
Gasps rippled through the crowd as the presenter lifted the cloth.
The piece was unmistakably imperial in spirit — an artifact that looked as though it had once belonged to a ruler who accepted kneeling as the natural order of the world. Two majestic dragons curved along the armrests, their bodies carved with such detail that their scales seemed almost alive. Their spines arched from the backrest down to the base, muscles coiled as if ready to leap. Each dragon's eye — set with polished onyx—caught the light and gleamed with a dark, watchful intelligence.
The seat features high-quality leather that has aged to a rich, luxurious shine. It didn't merely look expensive.
It looked untouchable.
"The starting bid," the commentator announced with reverence, "is one hundred million!"
The auction floor stirred instantly. Elite guests leaned forward, eyes sharp, hunger flickering across their faces as if bidding were not spending but conquering. The 'Dragon's Chair'wasn't merely furniture.
It was dominance carved into wood.
Beryl angled his head toward Kendrick, voice lowered. "Kendrick — your grandmother's been searching for this, hasn't she?"
Kendrick's gaze remained fixed on the chair, but his eyes softened — an unusual warmth that surfaced whenever his grandmother was mentioned. She wasn't just family. She was the one who had raised him when affection in the Yang household was rationed like a luxury.
"Yeah," he replied quietly, then nodded once — solemn, reverent.
There was gratitude in that single syllable—a vow without words.
Driven by a sense of duty that wasn't forced but chosen, Kendrick's expression sharpened. He would not allow this opportunity to slip away.
The bidding escalated like a wildfire catching dry grass.
"One hundred twenty million!"
"One hundred fifty million!"
"Two hundred million!"
Paddles rose. Voices sharpened. People smiled politely while trying to stab each other with numbers.
Then Kendrick spoke.
"Five hundred million."
His voice cut through the hall like steel.
It wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
The moment his bid landed, the entire room froze as if someone had pressed pause on reality. Heads turned in synchrony toward the VIP balcony, whispers blooming like spilled ink.
"That's Kendrick Yang…" one guest murmured knowingly.
"He must be buying it for his grandmother…"
"Five hundred million — just like that?"
No one countered.
Because no one dared.
The auctioneer barely managed to hide his excitement as he lifted the gavel.
"Five hundred million, going once… going twice…"
The pause was dramatic, a heartbeat stretched into eternity.
"Sold — to our VIP in the first room!"
The gavel struck with finality.
Applause erupted. Not polite clapping — real astonishment, real awe.
And Kendrick Yang's legend grew larger still, expanding beyond wealth into something closer to myth.
But the hall didn't remain in that state for long.
The air shifted — like a storm rolling in, thick with anticipation.
Everyone knew what was next.
The crown jewel.
The treasure that had been whispered about all week in private clubs and closed-door meetings, spoken of with the hunger reserved for rare power.
The Imperial Necklace
The commentator's voice boomed again, commanding silence with practiced authority.
“Ladies and gentlemen… tonight’s most anticipated treasure…”
The lights dimmed further.
"…the 'Imperial Necklace.'"
As the presenter lifted the velvet cover, the spotlight struck — and the necklace ignited under the lights.
Rubies glowed like captured fire.
Not bright red.
Not ordinary red.
But that deep, terrifying, living red — like blood kissed by flame.
Amelia's breath caught.
Her eyes widened, shimmering with awe as if she was looking at destiny itself. The world around her blurred. She didn't hear the murmurs. She didn't feel the tension. For a moment, she was simply a jeweler — an artist — staring at a masterpiece that defied human arrogance.
Kendrick watched her reaction and felt something tighten painfully in his chest.
Her wonder was… beautiful.
Dangerously beautiful.
__________
Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
- Writer
