CHAPTER 3

AMELIA’S POV

My heart was still racing from everything that had just happened, but all the same, I felt comfortable in his presence.

“What’s your name?” I asked finally.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out and took the small oil painting from my hands. He turned it slightly, studying it for a while before he spoke again.

“The auction will start soon,” he said, his tone calm and reassuring. “I can help you get this to the organizers so it has a proper chance.”

I hesitated, my fingers twitching as if they wanted to snatch the painting back. I didn’t know this man at all. He had defended me in front of everyone, fixed my dress, and listened to my confession without judgment, but that didn’t mean I could trust him completely.

My stomach twisted with doubt as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other on the floor.

“I appreciate it, but… I still don’t know you,” I murmured. “Can you at least tell me your name?”

He stepped a little closer, and before I could pull away, he raised one hand and placed a single finger gently over my lips.

The touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent an unexpected shiver racing down my spine. A warm flush spread across my cheeks, and I felt a strange flutter low in my belly that made my knees feel unsteady.

His finger lingered longer than necessary, and finally, he pulled it back.

Instead of answering my question, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out two seat cards printed in gold.

“Take these,” he said. “I’ll join you soon so sit tight and enjoy the show.”

I stared down at the cards, my mind spinning with confusion and a reluctant spark of hope.

Part of me wanted to demand answers, to insist he tell me who he was and why he was helping a nobody like me.

But once again, the authority in his voice and the memory of how he had silenced the entire hall earlier made me nod instead.

I slipped the cards into the small pocket of my navy blue dress, and with one last glance at him, I turned and left the restroom.

The grand hall had transformed even more since I had followed him out. Rows of plush chairs faced the brightly lit stage where the MC stood behind a polished podium, adjusting the microphone. Soft classical music played in the background, mixing with the low voices of the guests and the occasional clink of champagne glasses.

I scanned the crowd nervously, and after a while, I spotted the Silvermoon triplets a few seats behind, with their group of arrogant friends.

I settled into the chair, as I tried to blend in with the elegantly dressed guests around me. My hands felt clammy, and I wiped them on my lap while my eyes kept darting toward the stage.

Just then, the stranger who had defended me walked back in and took his seat beside me.

"Enjoying the atmosphere?" He smiled.

I nodded shyly as the auction began.

The first few paintings went up for auction one by one — abstracts, detailed landscapes, and intricate portraits that drew appreciative murmurs from the crowd. Bids were made in figures that made my head spin because they represented more money than I had seen in my entire life. Each time the gavel came down, applause rippled through the hall, but my stomach remained tight with anticipation.

My own painting was nowhere in sight, and with every passing piece, worry grew inside me.

Had he really taken it to the organizers, or had I made a terrible mistake by trusting him?

Time dragged on as more artworks sold for impressive sums. I shifted in my seat, my fingers twisting the edge of the ribbon at my waist as nerves coiled tighter in my chest.

I noticed Jason’s gaze swept over the crowd, and I quickly looked down, my heart skipping with the fear that he might spot me and cause another scene.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the MC cleared his throat again and leaned into the microphone with a dramatic pause.

“And now, for our final and most prestigious piece of the evening — a stunning oil painting titled ‘Moonlit Sanctuary,’ brought in at the last moment by an emerging local talent.”

My breath caught in my throat. That was the title I had given my forest scene.

It was my painting!

It appeared on the large screen behind the stage, and I gasped in shock.

How had he managed to get it placed as the final piece? The last painting was always the highlight, the one expected to fetch the highest price because it closed the entire auction with a bang.

My mind raced with disbelief and a rush of gratitude mixed with confusion. I had handed it over in a moment of vulnerability, and now it sat there under the spotlight, elevated in a way I never could have achieved on my own.

I glanced at him and he gave me a small nod as if to reassure me that everything was going according to some plan only he knew.

The MC continued with enthusiasm. “We’ll start the bidding at fifty thousand dollars.”

Before anyone else could react, he stood up beside me.

“Five hundred thousand.”

Gasps erupted from every corner of the room. Heads turned in our direction, eyes widening in shock at the massive jump from the starting price.

Even the MC paused for a moment, adjusting his glasses as if he hadn’t heard correctly. My own heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might burst.

Five hundred thousand dollars? For my little painting that I had hoped might bring enough for basic college fees? It felt unreal, like I had stepped into someone else’s dream.

The stranger remained standing.

“And let’s wrap this up quickly,” he added to the announcer, a hint of impatience in his tone.

“Going…” the MC began. “Going…”

A few seats away from us, a familiar voice responded.

“Six hundred thousand.”

I recognized it instantly — Jason. The Silvermoon triplets had all turned around, their eyes locked on our section. Jason’s face was flushed with anger, his usual swagger replaced by a determination to embarrass the strange guy beside me.

The stranger smiled down at me. “Exactly how I planned this to turn out,” he murmured.

“Seven hundred thousand,” He said.

Jason shot up from his seat almost immediately. “Seven hundred and fifty thousand!”

“Seven hundred eighty thousand."

“Seven hundred ninety thousand!” Jason barked back.

I noticed that his friends around him were exchanging uneasy glances now.

"Eight hundred thousand!"

The hall held its collective breath. Everyone waited to see what would happen next and with a triumphant sneer that didn’t quite hide his irritation, Jason called out.

"Eight hundred and ten thousand!"

The stranger smiled and sat back down beside me.

The MC’s voice rang out, sounding slightly breathless from the intensity. “Sold! For eight hundred thousand and one hundred dollars to Jason of the Nevermore Pack."

Applause erupted throughout the hall, as people processed the staggering final price.

I should have felt ecstatic, relieved that my dream of escape money had multiplied beyond anything I could have hoped for. But instead, a cold dread settled in my stomach because I knew exactly who had won the bid.

The MC continued smoothly, consulting his notes before making the official announcement.

“The owner of this beautiful piece, ‘Moonlit Sanctuary,’ is none other than Amelia Roberts— a talented local artist from the Nevermore pack. Let's all give it up for her, folks."

The crowd erupted into a loud cheer as I rose to my feet for the recognition, but in that moment, all I could see was Jason's eyes blazing red with anger.

He had just realized that he had been played!