Chapter 8
The statue gleamed under the spotlight, its intricate details catching the attention of everyone in the room. The auctioneer stepped forward, his gavel raised, and the murmurs in the crowd hushed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we now present the highlight of the evening,” he announced, his voice booming. “A priceless antique statue, courtesy of Mr. Ethan Hart. Bidding starts at—”
“Two hundred dollars!”
A voice rang out from the back, clear and confident.
All heads turned toward the source. Amara stood, her hand raised, her expression calm and poised.
The auctioneer blinked, momentarily stunned by the absurdly low bid. “Uh… two hundred dollars?”
“Yes, two hundred,” Amara replied, her voice unwavering.
The room erupted in murmurs.
“Is she serious?”
“She’s mocking the auction!”
Ethan’s head whipped around, his eyes narrowing as he spotted Amara. Celeste, seated beside him, stiffened in her chair, her fingers curling into fists.
“What the hell is she doing?” Celeste hissed under her breath, shooting Ethan a glare.
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “I have no idea.”
The auctioneer cleared his throat. “Uh, very well. We have a starting bid of two hundred dollars. Do I hear three hundred?”
Another bidder raised their hand. “Three hundred.”
“Five hundred,” Amara countered immediately.
The crowd gasped.
Celeste leaned toward Ethan, her voice low but furious. “You should’ve listened to me. I told you not to let her come. She’s ruining everything!”
Ethan didn’t respond. His eyes were glued to Amara, trying to decipher her game.
The bids continued, climbing slowly but far below the statue’s true worth. Amara’s strategy was clear—she was deliberately dragging the price down.
“Eight thousand,” called a bidder near the front.
Amara raised her hand. “Eight thousand and five.”
The crowd buzzed with disbelief.
“This is ridiculous,” someone muttered.
“Does she even know what she’s doing?”
Ethan finally had enough. He rose from his seat and walked toward the back of the room, his expression thunderous.
“Amara,” he said sharply, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “What are you doing?”
She turned to him with a sweet smile. “Participating in the auction. Isn’t that why I’m here?”
“Stop this,” he hissed. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“Oh, darling,” she replied, her tone laced with mockery. “Embarrassment is the least of your worries right now.”
Before Ethan could respond, the auctioneer called out, “Ten thousand! Do I hear ten thousand and five?”
Silence fell over the room.
“Going once… going twice…”
“Sold!”
The gavel came down, and the room erupted in murmurs again.
Ethan stared at the auctioneer in disbelief. “Ten thousand?” he muttered. “That statue is worth thirty million!”
Celeste stormed toward him, her face red with fury. “This is your fault, Ethan! You let her come, and now look at what’s happened!”
Before Ethan could reply, a voice from the crowd rang out.
“That statue is a fake!”
Gasps filled the room as everyone turned toward the speaker—a sharply dressed man standing near the center of the hall.
“What did you say?” the auctioneer asked, his voice trembling.
“I said it’s a fake,” the man repeated, stepping forward. “I’m an appraiser, and I can tell you right now that this isn’t the original statue.”
The room erupted into chaos.
“Fake?”
“How could that happen?”
Ethan’s face was drained of color. He turned to Amara, who was still seated, her expression smug. She caught his eye and winked.
“Amara,” he growled, his fists clenching at his sides. “What did you do?”
