Adrian Cole; Return of the Lost Heir

I came prepared

Chapter Eight

Lucas Brown’s smile widened as Adrian calmly raised his paddle again. To Lucas, there could be only one explanation—Adrian was relying on Catherine Moretti’s backing. Without her, he was nothing.

So, the fool thinks he’s clever because Catherine is sitting beside him? He really has no idea how these auctions work.

Lucas’s chest swelled with satisfaction. This was his stage. He had been to Armstrong’s private auctions before, and he knew the rules better than most: bidders were strictly responsible for their own payments. No one, not even someone like Catherine Moretti, could pay on behalf of another. If Adrian thought he could use her name to throw weight around, then he was walking straight into a trap.

Suppressing his glee, Lucas decided not to expose Adrian just yet. Instead, he raised his paddle lazily, adding a modest increment to the price.

“Ten million, three hundred thousand.”

The crowd turned toward him, murmuring approval.

“Mr. Brown is still competing.”

“Of course—he’s not going to lose to Adrian Cole of all people.”

Lucas smirked and glanced toward Elena, expecting admiration. Instead, her expression was taut, her eyes flicking nervously between him and Adrian. The sight soured his mood. Why does she look worried about him? She should be cheering for me!

“Eleven million.”

Adrian’s voice rang out again, calm and unhurried.

The guests stirred in disbelief. It wasn’t just the number—it was the way he said it. As if such an astronomical sum was nothing to him.

Lucas nearly laughed aloud. Perfect. Keep raising the stakes. The higher you climb, the harder you’ll fall when the truth comes out.

He lifted his paddle again. “Eleven point five.”

The duel began.

Back and forth, the price climbed. Adrian, unmoved, responded without hesitation each time. Lucas raised only slightly, deliberately dragging Adrian higher, waiting for him to hang himself with his own rope.

The onlookers buzzed with excitement.

“They’re really going head-to-head!”

“Does Adrian even understand what he’s doing? This is Armstrong’s auction—if you can’t pay, you’re finished.”

“Exactly. Rumor has it, someone once defaulted here, and Armstrong’s men broke his legs on the spot. That’s the kind of man Armstrong is.”

Elena grew pale. The words slashed at her, dredging up her own worst fears. She couldn’t hold back anymore. She leaned forward, her voice sharp but trembling.

“Adrian, stop it! Don’t make a fool of yourself. You know that black card you’re holding is fake—it won’t work here! This isn’t some regular banquet—you’ll ruin yourself if you keep pushing!”

Her desperation drew gasps from those seated nearby.

“So it’s true—the black card was fake?”

“No wonder. How could someone like him ever…”

Snickers and murmurs spread, but Adrian remained unruffled. He didn’t even glance at her.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said softly, his tone carrying a weight that silenced her.

Elena froze, her protest dying in her throat. Something in his eyes—calm, unyielding—made her chest ache.

Lucas, meanwhile, was overjoyed. Elena’s words had given him the perfect opening. He raised his paddle once more, his voice loud and mocking.

“Twelve million!” He chuckled, turning deliberately toward Adrian. “You should really listen to your ex-wife. Otherwise, when the hammer falls, you’ll have nowhere to hide.”

His words drew laughter from the guests.

“Yes, exactly! He’s walking straight into a disaster.”

“Does he think Catherine will clean up his mess? Chairman Armstrong would never allow it.”

Only Catherine herself remained composed, her lips curving in the faintest of smirks.

The host announced, “Twelve million from Mr. Brown. Do we hear higher?”

The crowd waited, expecting Adrian to falter at last. Lucas leaned back, confident, already savoring the moment when Adrian would retreat in shame.

But Adrian’s eyes never left the ring. His voice cut through the air, clear and steady.

“Fifteen million.”

The hall erupted.

“Fifteen million?!”

“He’s insane!”

“Even most of the elite here couldn’t casually offer that!”

Elena’s face went white. Her fingers dug into her dress as if to steady herself. Has he lost his mind?

Lucas’s pulse quickened. For a moment, doubt flickered in him. Could he really…? But then he dismissed the thought, his arrogance returning in force.

No. Impossible. He’s bluffing, and I’ll be the one to tear off his mask.

He threw down his paddle dramatically. “I’m done. Let him have it.”

A hush fell. No one else dared to challenge such a staggering figure.

The host’s gavel hovered, his voice trembling with excitement. “Fifteen million once… fifteen million twice…”

But before he could declare the sale, Lucas’s voice rang out again, oily with false concern.

“Wait. With all due respect, shouldn’t we ensure that Mr. Cole is capable of paying? After all, this is Chairman Armstrong’s auction. Rules must be followed. If someone is attempting to disrupt the event…”

The implication was clear.

A ripple of murmurs swept the hall.

“Yes, he should be verified.”

“Exactly—no one wants to see the auction disrupted.”

“All this noise, just to find out if he can pay.”

Lucas leaned back, triumph shining in his eyes. He had baited Adrian perfectly. Now the hammer would fall—not on him, but on the man he hated most.

Elena looked at Adrian, her throat tight. She wanted to beg him to admit defeat, to stop before it was too late. But something in his posture, in the quiet certainty of his gaze, rooted her in place.

Catherine folded her arms, her smile sharp. “Lucas Brown,” she said smoothly, her voice dripping with disdain, “I’d advise you not to underestimate the wrong man. You might regret it.”

Lucas chuckled. “Regret? No. Tonight, I’ll finally see Adrian Cole stripped bare. He’ll never recover from this.”

The host looked toward Adrian, hesitant. “Mr. Cole, as per the request, we must confirm your funds. Are you prepared?”

Adrian rose slowly to his feet. The hall grew silent, every eye fixed on him.

And though the tension was suffocating, Adrian’s calm smile didn’t waver.

“Of course,” he said. “I came prepared.”