Blood Auction

POV THESSA

Money may not buy class, but when aimed with precision, it works beautifully to hang an idiot's pride right in front of his entire court.

The stifling murmur that followed Edward's shattered glass still lingered in the air when the main hall lights dimmed, bathing the central stage in a warm, theatrical glow. Two ushers in white gloves hurried to clear the shards and wipe the crimson droplets away with soft cloths, while a private physician to the Windsor family tried to bandage the tycoon's bleeding palm in a quiet corner.

Edward never took his eyes off me for a single second. Jaw set hard and breathing deeply, he brushed the doctor aside with a sharp, impatient jerk and wrapped a dark linen handkerchief around his own knuckles to stem the bleeding. Lilith, trembling with rage and eyes glistening with wounded pride, tried to press close to him in the front row, whispering things into his ear that Edward simply ignored.

"Do you enjoy giving him a heart attack before midnight?" Adam Germain murmured beside me, guiding me gently toward the exclusive Royal Box Number One, high above the main floor.

"I enjoy showing him that his arrogance comes with a very specific market price," I replied, settling the crimson folds of my skirt as I sat back in the plush velvet armchair. "And tonight, Mr. Germain, the bill is going to be devastatingly high."

Adam laughed, a low, rich sound layered with genuine delight. He crossed one leg with effortless elegance and placed the gold bidding paddle engraved with the number one onto the small table between us.

The auctioneer stepped onto the stage and cleared his voice to command the attention of the distinguished gathering.

"Ladies and gentlemen, honoured benefactors... welcome to the Metropolitan Consortium's annual charity auction," he announced solemnly. "Tonight we close our evening with an unprecedented historical piece, generously donated by the Founding Families Trust."

Two uniformed security officers carried a display case of reinforced glass onto the platform. Resting upon a deep navy velvet cushion lay the legendary Crown of Dawn, a Victorian tiara crafted in pure platinum, set with over two hundred brilliant-cut diamonds and a fifty-carat Kashmir sapphire glowing at its centre.

Half the women in the room seemed to catch their breath at once.

A sharp, bittersweet memory flickered through my mind. The original Thessa had once dreamed of wearing that very tiara on her wedding day. It was the jewel meant to be worn by the future Mrs. Windsor upon her formal introduction to society. Yet on the morning they forced her to sign a secret marriage contract, Edward had not even let her glance at it. "An impostor of no noble blood would only soil my mother's heirloom," he had spat, before locking it away in a vault.

And now there sat Lilith, craning her neck from the front row, her eyes gleaming with insatiable greed, tugging at Edward's sleeve until he noticed the jewel and bought it to seal her triumph over me.

"Opening bid for the Crown of Dawn stands at ten million dollars," the auctioneer declared, raising his wooden gavel. "Do I have an opening offer?"

Edward immediately raised paddle number four without so much as a blink.

"Ten million from Mr. Windsor in the front row," the auctioneer noted. "Do I see fifteen?"

I lifted my hand lazily toward Adam. He placed paddle number one into my grasp with a knowing look.

I held it aloft, not looking at him, but fixing my gaze directly upon the stage.

"Twenty million," I said clearly, my voice carrying with such effortless clarity it seemed to float right up to the domed ceiling.

A collective gasp swept through the room. Hundreds of heads snapped upward toward the royal box.

Edward froze in his seat as if jolted by an electric current. He looked up, storm-grey eyes blazing with murderous fury when they met my calm, unbothered gaze. Beside him, Lilith clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms.

"Mr. Windsor bids..." the auctioneer hesitated.

"Thirty million!" Edward roared, springing to his feet in the centre aisle, completely breaking protocol, his voice thick with a sick, desperate need to win.

Press cameras flashed without mercy. The tension in the hall grew so thick nobody dared breathe. Edward was not bidding for charity or even for a jewel. He was bidding because he could not bear to be humiliated by the very woman he had cast aside that morning.

A clear, musical chime rang in my vision:

[System Alert! Ego and Vanity Blindness Detected in Target.]

[Obsession to Regain Control Level: 85%.]

[Financial Damage Multiplier Activated for Next Bid.]

I smiled, sharp and amused. Leaning my elbow against the bronze balustrade, I held the paddle loosely between two fingers.

"Forty million," I said, sounding almost bored, as though ordering a cup of coffee.

"Thessa, stop this now!" Lilith shrieked from below, completely losing composure, her voice cracking with desperation. "That crown does not belong to you! It is meant for the true Mrs. Windsor! You do not have that kind of money, you are cheating!"

"Quiet in the hall, please," the auctioneer reproached her, though his own hands trembled at the staggering numbers. "We have forty million from the Royal Box. Is there a counteroffer?"

Edward breathed heavily, his chest heaving. The handkerchief wrapped around his right hand was blooming fresh red stains. He was cornered, in full view of every banker, investor, and rival whose opinion shaped his empire's worth. To lose to me would be to admit to the entire city that I held more power than his name.

He strode into the central aisle, lifting his paddle and shouting so loudly his voice echoed like thunder.

"Fifty million dollars!"

Absolute silence descended upon the Grand Hall. Fifty million. It was an absurd sum, three times the jewel's appraised value, enough to fund an entire corporate division for a full year.

Lilith let out a shrill cry of victory, convinced her fiancé's fortune had finally crushed me, and shot me a look dripping with poison and triumph.

The auctioneer raised his gavel with trembling fingers, his gaze locked upward toward my box.

"Fifty million going once... Fifty million going twice... Does the young lady wish to bid fifty-five?"

Every eye in the room turned toward me. Edward watched me, breathing hard, chest rising and falling, a spark of arrogant challenge still burning in his eyes, expecting me to fight him one more time.

Instead of raising the paddle, I laughed.

It was soft, melodious, and perfectly, beautifully contemptuous. I set the gold paddle gently down upon the marble table, leaned forward toward the microphone, and spoke so my voice filled the hall.

"It is entirely yours, Mr. Windsor," I said, sweet and icy all at once, words landing like scalding water. "A man so overvalued and obsessed with appearances deserves exactly that, an overpriced trinket bought with his own desperation. I hope it brings you joy."

CRACK!

The gavel struck the wooden block with a final, sharp sound.

"Sold! The Crown of Dawn to Mr. Edward Windsor for fifty million dollars!"

Every drop of colour drained from Edward's face. He stood frozen in the carpeted aisle, realizing in that exact moment that I had never intended to win the jewel. I had baited him into draining fifty million dollars from his immediate liquidity, simply to feed and then crush his broken pride in front of every person that mattered.

The blue interface burst across my vision in a shower of golden light:

[Critical Strike on Target's Ego Executed Perfectly!]

[Edward Windsor Public Humiliation and Ruin Perception: 95%.]

[Reward Unlocked!: $30,000,000 Clean Dividends Credited + 2% Additional Preference Shares of the Windsor Group Transferred.]

[Total Stake in Ex-Husband's Corporation: 12%.]

"Masterful," Adam whispered beside me, clapping softly, his gaze dark and heavy with admiration. "You just stripped away the liquidity he needed to secure the harbour development bid on Monday morning."

I stood up, smoothing the crimson silk of my dress.

"Excuse me for a moment, Adam. I need to freshen my lipstick before the dancing begins."

"Take your time, my queen," he said, kissing my gloved knuckle with deliberate, lingering respect, a gesture Edward saw clearly from below and which made his fists clench until his knuckles turned white.

I stepped out of the box into the upper gallery, where the music from the main hall sounded distant and muted. The private corridor leading to the VIP lounge area was empty, carpeted in deep tones and lined with heavy velvet curtains that draped the tall windows opening onto the exterior balconies.

I had barely taken ten steps when a violent shadow lunged from the darkness beside one of the pillars.

An iron grip wrapped in a bloodstained handkerchief closed around my wrist with terrifying strength, yanking me backward into the shadowed corner of the balcony before I could call for help.

The glass door slammed shut behind us with a dull thud, sealing us in as cold wind whipped through the open air and the first heavy drops of a sudden storm began to fall over the city.

My back hit the damp stone balustrade hard.

Edward loomed over me, collar undone, eyes bloodshot, chest heaving in ragged, violent breaths. His bleeding hand pinned me firmly against the stone, his face only inches from mine, so close I could feel the raw, trembling desperation of his breathing against my skin.

"Think you are very clever, do you, Thessa?" he rasped, his voice broken and raw, a wildness I had never seen in three years bleeding through. "Think you can toy with my money, my pride, and parade around with Germain and walk away scot-free?"

I tried to pull away with a look of pure disgust, but his other hand rose to cup the back of my neck, tangling his fingers into my hair to keep me from turning away. There was no cold calculation in his storm-grey eyes now, only the raw, aching hurt of a wounded animal refusing to let go.

"That crown was always meant for you," he choked out, his voice thick with a groan he could no longer suppress, eyes glistening dangerously beneath the rain that began soaking through our clothes. "I bought it for you three years ago, damn it. Look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me you feel absolutely nothing anymore before I do something neither of us will come back from!"