"Twenty million! From Mr. Devereux in the second-floor box!"
The auctioneer's voice cracked, fueled by pure, unadulterated adrenaline. He flourished his gavel, eyes darting across the room like a bookie whipping a coliseum crowd into a frenzy.
"Twenty million once! Do I hear any more? This is a landmark in Obsidian City's medical research history—the final legacy of the Claire Laboratory..."
"Thirty million."
Dominic spoke. He raised his paddle slightly, his jaw set in a hard line. His voice wasn't loud, yet it hit the room like a boulder dropped into a still pond, triggering a wave of hushed gasps.
His right hand remained clamped around Dr. Claire's fingers. His signet ring felt like a brand of ice—so cold it burned—threatening to embed itself into her flesh.
"Thirty-five million!"
