The auction hall inside the Grand Bay Club was styled like a private theater. Tiered velvet seating overlooked a polished stage, where a crisp white spotlight illuminated a rotating display of rare antiques, vintage wines, and prime commercial deeds.
Roy escorted Chrystlene to a private booth on the lower level—a prime spot reserved for major institutional bidders. As they sat down, the quiet rustle of silk and quiet whispering among the surrounding tables didn't stop. Eyes lingered on them from every angle. The sight of the ruthless head of Vanguard International sitting side-by-side with the newly awakened heiress of the EL Group was enough to throw the city's financial gossips into overdrive.
"You don't seem bothered by the audience," Roy remarked quietly, leaning back in his leather chair. His shoulder lightly brushed against hers, a subtle presence that felt grounded rather than overbearing.
"Let them watch," Chrystlene said, taking a small silver case from her evening purse. She opened it with a light, metallic click, revealing a row of thin, hand-rolled clove cigarettes. "In my experience, people only stare when they're trying to figure out if you're a threat or an opportunity."
Roy's dark eyes glinted with quiet amusement as she pulled one out. "And which one are you?"
"That depends entirely on which side of the table you sit on," she replied smoothly.
She brought the thin cigarette to her lips, striking a match with a swift, practiced flick of her wrist. The small flame flickered, casting a warm light across her high cheekbones and dark eyes. She drew in a quiet breath, lighting the tip evenly before leaning back and exhaling a thin, ribbon of fragrant smoke into the air.
There was nothing crude about it. The gesture was slow, elegant, and completely composed, it was undeniably sexy —the effortless habit of someone who had spent long, freezing nights reviewing strategy maps while keeping her mind sharp.
Roy watched the swirl of pale smoke drift upward, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment longer than necessary. "Clove," he noted, his deep voice smooth. "Unusual choice for high society."
"High society prefers sweet, harmless things," Chrystlene said, resting her hand on the armrest, the cigarette held lightly between two slender fingers. "I prefer something with a little weight to it."
General... I mean, Chrystlene, Chrysty's voice murmured inside their shared space, sounding genuinely fascinated. I didn't even know you smoked! But looking at you right now... you look like someone straight out of an old noir classic.
Old habits die hard, Chrysty, Chrystlene thought back, taking another light drag. When you spend years managing high-stakes situations, a little tobacco keeps the edges sharp.
On stage, the auctioneer tapped his wooden gavel against the podium, clearing his throat to draw the room's attention back to the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to lot number fourteen," the auctioneer announced, gesturing toward a large digital screen behind him. "A thirty percent equity stake in the Westside Commercial Logistics Center. Starting bid opens at fifteen million dollars."
The room hummed with sudden activity. The Westside hub was a crucial piece of infrastructure—a massive warehousing facility right on the border of the city's industrial zone. Controlling it meant controlling the main entry point for all ground freight entering the eastern market.
To the left of their booth, a loud, artificial laugh broke out.
Second Uncle EL was sitting three rows ahead, surrounded by a group of minor investors. Beside him sat Jurianna's father, a ambitious real estate developer who had been quietly trying to secure a foothold in the EL Group's logistics territory for months.
"Look at him," Chrysty said, her tone dropping into a cold scowl. "Second Uncle brought Jurianna's father to buy that stake. They want to use it to hijack our ground transit routes!"
Chrystlene took another slow drag of her cigarette, her eyes narrowing as she watched Second Uncle raise his paddle high.
"Eighteen million!" Second Uncle called out, casting a smug glance around the room, clearly feeling triumphant.
"Twenty million," a tech executive from the front row countered.
"Twenty-two million!" Jurianna's father chimed in immediately, puffing out his chest.
Roy leaned closer to Chrystlene, his voice low enough that only she could hear over the bidding. "Westside Hub has three outstanding municipal liens attached to its secondary drainage system. If you take the stake, you'll inherit a eight-million-dollar infrastructure overhaul penalty within six months."
Chrystlene tapped the ash from her cigarette into a crystal tray on the table, a faint, dangerous smile touching her lips. "I know. I read the city council's zoning audit two nights ago."
Roy raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. "Then you're letting them have it?"
"Not yet," Chrystlene whispered, turning her head slightly so her dark gaze locked onto his. "A proper maneuver requires driving the price up first so the enemy bleeds cash before they realize they bought a broken bridge."
A low, deep chuckle rumbled in Roy's chest. "I like how you think, Miss EL."
Chrystlene picked up the bidding paddle resting on their table and raised it with a calm, effortless motion.
"Twenty-five million," her clear, rich voice rang out across the hall.
The auctioneer's eyes lit up instantly. "Twenty-five million from Miss EL! Do I hear twenty-six?"
Second Uncle's head snapped around, his jaw practically dropping when he saw Chrystlene sitting comfortably in the executive booth beside Roy Vanguard. Jurianna's father went red in the face, his pride instantly wounded at being challenged by a young woman in front of the city's entire elite.
"Twenty-seven million!" Jurianna's father shouted, raising his paddle aggressively.
Chrystlene didn't flinch. She took a quiet sip of her water, set her glass down, and lifted her paddle again without skipping a beat.
"Thirty million."
The room erupted into quiet gasps. Thirty million was double the market value of the equity stake.
"Thirty million to Miss EL!" the auctioneer called out, his voice rising with excitement. "Going once..."
Second Uncle leaned over, aggressively whispering into Jurianna's father's ear, goading him on. "Don't let her take it! She's just bluffing to embarrass us! If she gets that hub, she'll lock your company out of the district entirely!"
Jurianna's father gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning white around his wooden paddle. "Thirty-two million!" he yelled, his voice cracking slightly with tension.
The room went dead silent. Everyone turned to look at Chrystlene's booth, waiting to see if the heiress would raise the stakes even higher.
Chrystlene quietly brought her cigarette to her lips, drew in a final breath, and extinguished the burning ember cleanly into the glass tray. She set her paddle down on the velvet table with a soft, final click.
She offered Jurianna's father a smooth, breathtakingly serene smile from across the room—a smile that communicated absolute, devastating victory.
"Thirty-two million going once... twice... Sold!" the gavel slammed down with a loud bang. "To Mr. Lin for thirty-two million dollars!"
Jurianna's father slumped back into his chair, breathing heavily, initially looking triumphant—until he noticed the cold, amused expression on Roy Vanguard's face and the completely relaxed posture of Chrystlene EL.
"They just spent thirty-two million dollars on a property that requires an eight-million-dollar municipal repair bill next month," Chrysty laughed hysterically inside their mind space, clapping her hands together. "They overpaid by nearly fifteen million just to protect their fragile pride!"
"Pride is the most expensive flaw in business," Chrystlene said softly, dusting a speck of ash from her charcoal gown. "They thought they were competing with me. In reality, I just handed them an anchor."
Roy turned to her, resting his elbow on the table, his dark eyes filled with undeniable admiration. "Surgical. You made them fight for their own trap."
"They were too eager to prove a point," Chrystlene said smoothly, meeting his gaze. "A good leader never lets emotion dictate the budget."
"An exceptional rule," Roy murmured, his voice dropping into a quiet, magnetic register as he leaned a fraction closer. "The auction is nearly over. I have a private dining room reserved upstairs. Join me for dinner, Chrystlene. I think it's time we discuss how we're going to dominate the eastern shipping routes together."
Chrystlene looked at the powerful man sitting beside her—a titan of industry who bowed to no one, yet looked at her as an absolute equal, captivated by her mind and her presence.
She offered him a slow, elegant smile. "I'd be delighted, Mr. Vanguard."