ALL HAIL THE GOLDMASTER

Chapter 9: Rumors, Rats, and Revelations

Seth strolled through the grand auction hall like he owned the place... which, ironically, he did. Not that anyone here knew that. Not yet.

The place was glowing in gold and glitter. A massive chandelier sparkled above like a disco ball for the one percent, and every corner was filled with whispers, false compliments, and expensive perfume. Wealth hung in the air like humidity.

He swirled the wine in his glass, scanning faces lazily, until he heard a familiar voice from across the room—nasal, pretentious, and dripping with arrogance.

'William?'

'Oh boy, this was going to be good.'

The weasel of a man was holding court with a few overdressed young businessmen, who looked like a bunch of over pampered spoiled brats.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," William said, chuckling with faux modesty, "please, enough with the compliments, I'm only here because I secured a very rare opportunity. A one-on-one with the Goldmaster himself."

Gasps and intrigued nods could be seen all around.

"The Goldmaster? Seriously?"

"How the hell did you manage that?"

"He doesn't even show his face!"

William puffed out his chest like a pigeon overdosing on ego. "Well, when you're from the Ken Group, doors open. We're not just a business, we're a growing legacy."

There was a beat of silence, then the men burst out in laughter.

Their laughter was full of mock and disbelief.

The oldest among them dressed in a navy pinstripe suit and a voice as dry as a desert, scoffed, "Ken Group? You mean that barely solvent property firm that tried to get into tech?"

"I thought they went bankrupt last year."

"No, no, they just changed names to Ken Global to sound more futuristic."

The group erupted again.

William flushed crimson but fought to maintain the grin. "I know Mr. Lucas personally. He and I go way back. We played golf last spring."

That name hit differently, the laughter died down almost instantly.

One man leaned in. "Wait. Mr. Lucas? As in... Goldmaster's right-hand man Lucas?"

William nodded solemnly like a priest delivering communion. "The very same."

Murmurs spread as eyebrows raised. People were buying it.

And that was when Seth decided to casually ruin his evening.

He walked up behind William, quiet as a shadow, until he stood just inches away.

"Wow," Seth said. "Didn’t know you and Lucas were such close friends. You should call him over sometimes and introduce us.”

William turned, flinching when he saw who it was. 'Seth?'

The same man he thought he would never have to deal with again. The same man that humiliated him with his wedding with Emily.

"Y-You," William stammered. "What are you doing here? Did Rose sneak you in? You know you don't belong here."

The businessmen looked back and forth, unsure of what they were witnessing.

Seth shrugged. "Nah, I came for the free wine and the drama, but hearing this, boy, I can kiss your shoes if you could introduce me to him, I mean even my clients would be thrilled to meet him, we would pay you good money too."

William's nostrils flared. "You're just a leech. I bet Rose brought you as her gigolo." As their laughter echoed, Rose 's face raged with anger, she wouldn't have been getting such shame if only he didn't come. 

That was when a sharp voice cut through the tension like a guillotine. "Of course he's her gigolo. What else could a man like him possibly be doing here?" Emily mentioned as she walked by. 

She walked up slowly, her red dress clinging to her like pride. Her smile was full of venom and spite.

"Don’t be fooled, gentlemen," she cooed sweetly. "Seth here is just a gold digger with a pretty face and a silver tongue. He clung to me for years, hoping my family would make him relevant. Now he’s latched onto Rose Tyrel, the next best meal ticket."

Seth blinked slowly, then smiled. "You know, Emily, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re still obsessed with me."

There were a few gasps and fewer chuckles.

Her face darkened. "Don't flatter yourself, trash."

"Too late," Seth quipped. "You brought me up before I even said a word. I’m flattered."

Someone in the back snorted.

One of the men asked cautiously, "So... you’re not her guest?"

"God, no," Emily sneered. "He probably works in the kitchen."

Seth gave a theatrical bow. "I do like to cook, actually. Roast some married liars, grind egos... stir the pot."

That got a few laughs.

William stepped forward, trying to take control of the moment. "You shouldn't even be in this hall. Only selected elites are allowed at this level. Where's your pass?"

"Funny you asked."

Seth reached into his jacket and pulled out a black card with gold embossing. The symbol was unmistakable.

Gasps erupted again. But it instantly put Emily at ease—because she knew exactly what it meant.

“Looks like your forgery skills are just as cheap and pathetic as you are,” Emily sneered, pulling out an invitation from her designer purse. The pale gold paper shimmered under the lights.

“This is what a real Goldmaster auction invitation looks like. When Mr. Gabriel sent ours over, it certainly wasn’t some cursed-looking black thing.”

The moment she said it, the spell broke — everyone snapped back to their senses.

That's right—the one everyone got was the gold one!

“Exactly! This low-class wannabe doesn’t know his place. Maybe we should teach him a lesson!”

“Security! Where the hell is security?” The guests stirred again, voices rising with excitement.