Chapter twenty
"Aha, a newbie. He walks in here without covering his face," her voice cut through the silence — smooth, melodic, yet carrying a sharpened edge.
"Who said that this is my true face?" Rylene said.
A faint smile touched Rylene's lips, the kind that seems friendly on the surface, but in truth conceals a dagger.
Rylene sat on the seat invited by Micheal Morgan.
"A sharp-tongued one indeed," a man commented.
Rylene sat with the air of effortless calm, as though the outcome is already decided. Her posture was relaxed —one arm draped over the back of his chair, the other idly circling the table before her — but her eyes told a different story.
They were sharp, calculating, studying every twitch, every movement at the people before her.
"Sorry for the wait. I went to pick up our new member," Micheal Morgan said then looked at his watch.
'Was Isabella Islay a password to this secret auction?' Rylene thought.
'I think so,' Larissa said.
'Larissa, get me the most expensive car ready once i get out of this building,'
'Alright,'
"For our first auction item.....Rolex Daytona 'Paul Newman' Ref. 6239....anyone who knows this watch," Micheal morgan said holding a watch case.
"The Rolex Cosmograph Daytona Reference 6239, famously nicknamed the "Paul Newman" Daytona, one of the most iconic and collectible vintage Rolex watches ever produced. Introduced in 1963, the 6239 was the first Daytona model and was designed specifically for professional racing drivers...." Rylene explained
"Yes indeed. splendid!" Micheal said then continued to explain its characteristics. After explaining the characteristics, the bidding began.
The watch was taken by a peculiar man.
He was sat in his high-backed chair with the ease of someone who has never been denied anything.
His suit was midnight blue, tailored to perfection, the fabric shimmering subtly in the chandelier's glow.
A platinum watch glints at his wrist, its face a rare model that even the wealthiest collectors whisper about.
He does not fidget, does not shift—he is carved into stillness, a figure of patience and control.
His face was hidden beneath a half-mask of black leather, smooth and expressionless, catching only the faintest gleam of light.
The mask covered everything from his brow to the line of his jaw, leaving only his mouth visible—thin lips pressed in a line that gave away nothing.
"Cold and familiar. That guy is so familiar," Rylene whispered curiously.