While Aidan Wilson was locked in a tense, frustrated exchange with Nabil Lobart, the auction hall gradually filled with guests. One by one they entered through the tall glass doors, their footsteps echoing softly across the polished marble floor. Soft music played in the background, barely enough to dull the hum of conversations and polite laughter.
Silas Durant entered with measured steps, his posture straight while his mother's hand rested lightly on his elbow. He presented himself flawlessly, a perfect picture of an elite heir, hiding his repulsion of the crowd beneath his calm composure.
He resisted the urge to recoil the moment someone brushed past them. Instead, his fingers covered with dark leather gloves, twitched at his side.
Luna Francis glanced at her son from the corner of her eye, her steps unhurried, elegant even. This morning, she had been taken aback when Silas had approached her and asked to accompany her to the auction.
