2025-11-22 01:12:08
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BID UP OR SHUT UP?
CHAPTER 152 — BID UP OR SHUT UPThe auctioneer’s gavel was still hanging in the air, frozen like the whole room had hit pause on a horror movie.One hundred million dollars.One. Hundred. Million.Harry’s face had gone from white to grey to full-on corpse. He half-stood, half-fell forward, hands flailing like he was drowning in his own tux.“Kelvin—what the hell did you do to the Blacks to make Patrick wanna drop this kinda cash on you?!” His voice cracked so hard it squeaked at the end. “Like, did you save his dog? Cure his baldness? What?!”Kelvin didn’t even blink. Didn’t even turn his head. Just lifted his paddle again, slow, lazy, like he was swatting a fly.Harry kept going, voice climbing higher. “I’m serious, man! This isn’t a joke! Adults are bidding here, okay? You’re embarrassing yourself. You’re embarrassing all of us!”A couple people in the row behind snorted. Someone muttered, “Let him cook,” and pulled out their phone to record.Kelvin finally looked at Harry.One slow
BURN THE MONEY, KEEP THE MEMORY
CHAPTER 151 — BURN THE MONEY, KEEP THE MEMORY The gavel hadn’t even cooled from the six-million-dollar slap when the auctioneer, riding the high of his life, bounced on his toes and flashed a grin sharp enough to slice diamonds.“And now, darlings, the moment you’ve been salivating over in the group chats… the sister necklace to lot forty-seven. Same Russian duchess, same Cartier atelier, 1928. But this one?” He paused for drama, letting the velvet curtain part like theater. “This one boasts a thirty-two-point-one carat Kashmir sapphire—no heat, no treatment, the color of midnight sins. Untouched since the Romanovs were still throwing parties. We begin at fifteen million.”The screen exploded in cobalt fire. Same iconic sunburst design. Bigger stone. Bluer than heartbreak, deeper than every grave they’d already dug for each other.The room detonated like someone lit a match in a room full of gasoline.“Twenty million!” an oil prince in a snow-white thobe roared from the back, paddle
FOUR MONTHS OF CUP NOODLES
CHAPTER 150 — FOUR MONTHS OF CUP NOODLESEleven years ago… before he got a job in military. Kelvin was young, broke as hell, and living off sheer spite and black coffee.He’d been walking past the same tiny antique jewelry shop on 47th every day for three months on his lunch break. The place smelled like old velvet and regret, windows fogged up from the steam table next door. And every single day, that necklace sat in the fuck there, taunting him from the middle display.Art-Deco platinum. One fat oval sapphire the color of Diana’s eyes when she was pissed, surrounded by a sunburst of tiny diamonds. The tag said “Circa 1925 Cartier-inspired piece – $18,500.”Eighteen-five. He made maybe four grand a month back then, before taxes. After rent and her mom’s medical bills, he was lucky to have bus fare.But every time he pictured Diana wearing it, laughing that loud, messy laugh she only let out when she forgot to be perfect, he felt something stupid and reckless ignite in his chest.So h
AUCTION OF THE DAMNED
CHAPTER 149 — AUCTION OF THE DAMNEDDiana stormed back into the ballroom like a hurricane that contained a thunderstorm. Her cheeks were still flushed, mascara smudged just enough to look intentional, lips pressed into a razor-thin line. The slit in her crimson dress flashed like a warning every time she moved. People parted without realizing they were doing it; nobody wanted to catch whatever she was radiating tonight.She dropped into her assigned seat with zero grace, the velvet chair groaning under the force. Her right hand throbbed; knuckles already swelling, tiny half-moon cuts from her own nails glistening red. She tucked it under the table fast, but not fast enough.Harry, two seats down, did a double take. “Jesus, Di,” he hissed, leaning over the empty chair between them. “What the hell happened to your hand? You look like you punched a brick wall and the wall lost.”She flexed her fingers once, winced, then forced a lazy smirk. “Relax. It’s nothing. Just redecorating the hal
SHATTER POINTS
CHAPTER 148 — SHATTERPOINTSDiana didn’t expect the world to tilt the way it did. One second she was stepping out of the ballroom hallway, still breathing hard from the confrontation behind the curtain, and the next—Kelvin was standing right there in the corridor like he had been waiting for her.Except he didn’t look amused anymore. He looked like he hated her.Really, truly, violently hated her.For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. The corridor was cold, quiet, and too brightly lit, as if the chandeliers wanted to watch them tear each other apart. Diana’s pulse hammered in her throat, her knuckles still tingling from where she’d grabbed his lapel and shoved him into the wall twenty minutes ago.“Kelvin,” she started, voice already edged with venom.“Shut the fuck up,” he said, low and vicious.Diana blinked. “Excuse me?”“You heard me.” His eyes were black with disgust. “I’m done listening to your hysterical bullshit.”Her spine snapped straight. “Hysterical? You walk in wearing
HEIRLOOM SECRETS
CHAPTER 147 — HEIRLOOM SECRETSHarry blinked twice, like his eyes were glitching, because what he was seeing didn’t make sense at first. The ballroom shimmered under the chandelier lights, but his focus cut through all that glitter like a sniper scope. His chest tightened.There.On Kelvin’s wrist.The Black heirloom watch.Not the cheap knockoff influencers brag about.Not some designer thing anyone with five million in their account can buy.This was the real one — the one whispered about in circles of money and influence, passed from Black to Black like a crown. Rumored to hold a coded vault key, rumored to have caused fights, breakups, even a rumored “accidental” drowning.Harry’s jaw clenched as envy and suspicion tangled in his stomach.“Di,” he hissed, leaning in without tearing his gaze away. “Look at Kelvin’s wrist. That’s the Black heirloom. The actual one. What game is he running?”Diana’s head snapped toward Kelvin so fast her earrings swung.She saw it — the heavy, antiqu
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