Novel & Cerita Potter Auction

She would have at least discussed it with me first. I shoved the thoughts down and moved to my home office after my shower. Adrian was already there. He scanned my face while waiting for me to speak. “Tell me there’s a way to undo this fuckup,” I said, letting my voice carry the murderous mood I was in. “The auction is irrevocable once set. The sale final to the highest qualified bidder meeting or exceeding the reserve.”

The host recited his opening script before finally addressing the main topic of the day. "We have six items up for auction. Five are antiques sponsored by other families, and the last is the Bloodgod Herb provided by the Parker family. I believe many of you are here for the Bloodgod Herb. Everyone knows how rare it is. Although this is an auction, the patriarch of the Parker family hopes it will go to the one who truly deserves it."

They could make the auctioning thing a business, huh, but good to hear that they donate their earnings to charities. "You said, one week?" I asked Quinn who was sitting beside me. "One week with the man you paid for? Yes, that's right." She giggled, still sounding so excited. I just laughed as I shook my head. I crossed my arms and looked back at the stage after another man have been auctioned. "Next Billionaire is Pierre Moretti." "Oh my God! Pierre!" Quinn pushed me like a hyper child. Everyone scream in excitement as Pierre walked on stage and waved at the audience. He was smiling playfully and looks like a playboy.

he muttered. The Underground Auction — 11:14 P.M. The air was thick with incense and secrets. Wealthy patrons with veiled faces sipped aged sake and whispered in languages few dared to speak outside these circles. An auctioneer in black robes held up a scroll sealed with an ancient Phoenix crest. “From the pre-betrayal era,” he announced. “Believed to contain names of the first heirs.” A hush fell over the room, Chaewon’s heart pounded. A voice called out from the shadows.

"And if things go south?" I touched the locket at my throat—the one with his mother's photo. "Then we burn it down." The doors opened onto chaos. Daniela held court atop a dais, resplendent in a blood-red gown. Auction paddles rose as she gestured to a massive screen displaying lot numbers: LOT 17: Enhanced neural capacity. Starting bid: $20M. LOT 23: Photographic memory imprint. Starting bid: $35M. My stomach turned. She wasn't selling objects.

Sabrina prompted. “It's okay. Come on, Nate? “Let's go. The four of us began to walk inside the huge mansion. There were many people dressed in gala and very elegant. There were perfectly arranged tables. Nick began to greet other businessmen, I suppose they were very powerful people. Sabrina let go of Nick's hand to meet other girls looking shallow and so on. The place was huge, there were super fine chandeliers, waiters with glasses of champagne and some sandwiches. Apparently it was a very important event. At the end was a platform with a microphone. Nate had told me that they would choose the businessman who has presented the most profits. Apparently he was something like the businessman

“Forty-five.” Everyone turns to look. Even I strain my neck to see who it is. It appears to be someone sitting on the very last row and oddly enough I can’t see his face because he’s wearing a hat. “Can you repeat that?” “Forty-five million for Clara Morelli,” the man repeats. I look back at the auctioneer. His bushy brows are practically touching his hairline. He says, “Forty-five going once. Going twice.” The gavel hits wood. “Sold.”

It wasn’t surprise but pure, profound terror. The audience shifted uneasily. I caught a faint gasp. A whisper behind me called him, "The devil himself." ‘I thought he didn't come.’ ‘Me too.’ ‘She’s got him now. I doubt she’ll last a week with him.’ ‘That’s generous—I’d bet on three days.’ The devil? And once more, he had claimed me. The auctioneer’s gavel crashed down with the weight of a judge’s verdict: “Sold for $80 million!”

Inside, the party was on. Thirty people—gold and black masks, silk clothes, shiny skin. Center stage: metal frame with black cloth, red ribbon like a snake. Damian stood near in white clothes, silver hair bright, tablet in hand. Seraphina sat on a long chair, gold chain on neck, legs crossed, watching like a boss. The auction was on—a huge screen: LOT 7 – GHOST STAR: RECLAIMED Start bid: $2M They were selling me. Again. I went to the computer room—open, too confident. R’s tool was there: small device under a shelf, light green. I put in the camera’s card—full of new video: victim stories, meeting talks, Damian’s voice bragging. I changed the auction show.

educated Vittore. “No, we supply, that’s why there is demand. If we stop, they too will shift their attention to other things, Dad. Don’t you realise that?” chided Michel. While they were chatting with each other, the auction started. Girls clad in bikini and boys clad in tiny underwear were being displayed for all to see. Not only see, but they were also testing, prodding, tasting the girls and boys like they were going to buy a product, not human beings.