I let out a short, snappy cackle. Vincent's attempt at playing the high roller was almost sweet, if not so embarrassingly hollow.
"West, that rule exists to protect you, not me," I said, unbothered.
He looked like he wanted to say something bold in return, but I didn't give him the chance.
"And let's not kid ourselves. Even if I walked out of here right now, you still wouldn't have the means to sit at the main table. With your current finances? You're barely scraping together a seat at the overflow table. Keep dreaming."
The words landed. I didn't even need to look to know they did.
Leila's shifting in her chair gave it away. Her composure was starting to fray. The flush in her cheeks was no longer from champagne.
"You've got a big mouth, you know that?" she snapped, her voice brittle. "Do you have any idea how much of this city's entertainment industry belongs to Vincent's family?"
Ah, there it was. The defensive bark of someone trying to shout over a truth one couldn't silence.
Vincent's expression tightened. He was clearly trying to keep his cool, trying to look unbothered, but the tension in his jaw gave him away.
"You're the first person to tell me I can't afford it," he said through gritted teeth. "Fine then. I'll bid $50 million for the right to sit at the main table! Anyone care to outbid me?"
He puffed himself up, looking around as if expecting the room to cheer. The moment he said it, the place fell into a hush.
Whispered glances. Half-formed sentences.
$50 million for a seat.
Not even a stake. Just a seat.
'It's just pathetic.'
"$50 million?" I repeated, tone light and bored. "West, you really are… poor and pitiful."
I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to.
I simply gave them the number: "$100 million."
Silence.
They were neither surprised nor amazed. It was a heavy silence that dulled everyone's thoughts.
Then came the murmurs.
"$100 million? Is he mad?"
"He's just a waiter, isn't he?"
"There's no way he's got that kind of money. He's bluffing."
They looked at me like I'd grown a second head.
Unbothered, I leaned back in my chair, fingers resting on the tablecloth, calm as anything.
Vincent blinked, startled for a beat, then shook his head and gave a laugh he clearly didn't believe in.
"You think throwing out a number like that scares me? You're bluffing. If you've got it, show us. Otherwise, I'd love to see how Mr. Blackwood's people deal with your little stunt."
Every eye in the room turned toward Richard.
As the Executive Assistant Director of Morningstar Group, when Richard spoke, it wasn't just him speaking.
It was the Blackwood family itself.
Richard narrowed his gaze slightly, then said in that familiar, frigid tone, "This concerns Morningstar Group. No one dares speak out of turn. The auction continues."
Vincent's mouth twitched, and his hand clenched into a fist on the table. "Fine, if you want to play, then let's play. I'll raise you another $10 million."
I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"Really, West?" I said, stretching slightly. "Just $10 million? That's barely a bump."
I gave him a slow, deliberate smile. "Double it."
"$22 million!" I declared with a flick of the wrist as if ordering another drink.
Vincent's face turned a furious shade of red. "$300 million!"
I chuckled effortlessly, "Do you even have the liquidity to keep up, West? Be careful. You might bankrupt the entire West family trying to look impressive."
"$600 million!" he roared.
"$700," I replied without blinking.
He was shaking now, jaw tight, shoulders stiff.
"$800 million!" he shouted, almost choking on it.
I smiled. "$1.6 billion."
The room froze.
Not a murmur. Not a breath. Just stunned, open-mouthed silence.
Even the chandeliers seemed to be holding still.
And then, as if on cue, Leila lost it. "You're just shouting random numbers! You're insulting Mr. Blackwood! This is outrageous! If you can't back this up, you'll be finished!"
Her voice sliced through the silence like glass under pressure.
Vincent, snapping out of his fog, added fuel. "Exactly! This isn't just a bid—it's a slap in the face to the Blackwood family! If you can't deliver, you'll never recover from this!"
All eyes were on me.
I leaned forward slightly, my voice calm and unapologetic.
"Leila," I said, smiling faintly, "I wouldn't have placed the bid if I couldn't back it."
Then I turned my gaze to Vincent.
"And the two of you… You've spent the entire evening doubting me. Questioning me. Maybe that says more about you than me. Could it be you're afraid? Afraid this might not be a bluff and that you've already lost?"
Let them sit with that for a moment.
