Ascension of the Untouchable Billionaire.

Chapter 8. Winner Dinner.

Everyone seemed to freeze at the proclamation, the air in the room feeling thick with shock and horror.

Steven himself was stunned as he leaned back in his gilded chair, mouth feeling dry. 

Just who the hell did Noah think he was? 

But then his eyes caught the symbol of the Shinren house on one of the many banners decorating the halls.

With a sudden clarity he remembered where he was.

This was an auction for Markus Shinren—the host and the city’s undisputed king of commerce—who was probably watching the proceedings through the various security cameras in the room. 

Steven knew the rules of a Shinren auction better than anyone.

Rule Number One: The Identity-Payment Clause. 

The person who raises the paddle must be the person whose name is on the check. 

No corporate proxies, no "gifts" from sugar mummies, and certainly no third-party bailouts.

Steven glanced at Chantel, who was still draped elegantly against Noah’s side. He saw the way her hand rested on Noah’s arm, and his lip curled. Noah probably thought that he could use the director as his golden ticket, unused as he was to Shinren dealings, he probably assumed he could bid on her dime. He has no idea he’s walking into a literal death trap.

"Fifty-one million dollars," Steven finally calledout, his voice casual, almost bored. 

He raised his paddle with a flick of his wrist, eyes locked on Noah.

"Sixty," Noah said instantly. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the murmurs of the crowd like a razor.

A collective gasp rippled through the hall.

And Nicole couldn't take it anymore as she rose to her feet, ignoring the looks of other guests and approached her idiotic ex-husband.

"Noah, stop it!" Nicole hissed, her hand shooting out to grab his sleeve. 

Her face was pale, her eyes darting toward the security detail standing like statues along the walls. "Do you have any idea what you're doing? This isn't a game. Markus Shinren doesn't care who you’re sleeping with. If you win this and that fake black card bounces and it will bounce, they won't just throw you out."

She leaned closer, her voice trembling with genuine terror. "Three years ago, a textile heir tried to 'ghost-bid' here to impress a girl. Shinren’s men broke both his legs before the police even arrived. They’ll ruin you, Noah. Please... for the sake of the life we had, just stop!"

Noah looked through Nicole as if she were made of glass. "I told you, Nicole. You don't need to worry about me."

Steven’s laugh was a sharp, jagged sound. "Let him go, Nicky! If the man wants to be a hero, let him pay the hero’s price."

Steven raised his paddle again. "Sixty-one million."

He was playing Noah like a violin. Every time Noah raised the price, Steven would bump it just enough to keep the flame alive. 

He wanted to get the price so astronomically high that when he finally stepped back, the weight of the debt would crush Noah into the floor. 

He wanted to see the look on Chante’s face when she realized her "pet" had just signed his own death warrant.

Chante, meanwhile, just watched Steven with a look of amusement. 

To her, Steven looked like a toddler trying to bluff a grandmaster. She leaned in, her lips brushing Noah’s ear. "He thinks he is very clever, this little boy. He thinks he is leading you to a cliff."

"He's about to find out how deep the fall is," Noah murmured back. "Seventy million." He raised his paddle again.

The crowd was whispering frantically. "He’s insane," a woman muttered. "He’s going to get himself killed."

"Seventy-one million!" Steven shouted, his excitement becoming palpable. He could almost see the headlines. “Mechanic Fraudster killed at Auction!”

Noah let out a short, dry sneer. 

"Is that the best you can do, Steven?" Noah asked. The room went dead silent. "You talk about deep vaults and family legacies, yet you’re bidding in increments like you’re at a garage sale."

Noah stood up, his charcoal suit catching the light. 

He didn't look at the paddle. He looked straight at the auctioneer.

"Two hundred million dollars."

The silence that followed was absolute. It was the kind of silence that happens right before a bomb detonates. The auctioneer froze, his hammer hovering in mid-air. Nicole let out a stifled sob of horror, her hand flying to her mouth. 

She was convinced Noah had finally snapped—that the trauma of the divorce had induced a full-blown psychotic break.

Steven’s heart skipped a beat. Two hundred million? It was a preposterous number. It was more than the value of the Crestwood’s entire liquid reserve. 

But then, a surge of adrenaline hit him. This is it. He’s done. He’s tripled the bid on a whim. There’s no way out for him now.

Steven dropped his paddle onto the table with a theatrical clatter. "I’m out," he said, his voice ringing with triumph. "The peasant wins! Congratulations, Stone. You’ve just bought a piece of silver for two hundred million dollars."

The auctioneer found his voice, though it was an octave higher than before. "Two hundred million... going once... going twice..."

CRACK.

"Sold! To the gentleman in the black suit."

The room remained silent. No one clapped. They were all waiting for the blood.

Steven stood up, his face flushed with a dark, expectant joy. He turned toward the crowd "I have a query! We all know the rules of this house. This man is a known fraud. He’s been seen using a counterfeit Sovereign card and has no verifiable income beyond a mechanic’s wage."

He pointed a shaking finger at Noah. "I demand a public verification of funds. Right now. Before he even touches that ring, let’s see if his 'Empire' consists of anything more than the grease under his fingernails!"