Infinite Wealth: Revenge of the Lost Heir

CHAPTER 17: A DIAMOND IN THE MIDST OF MUD

An eye-dazzling luxury enveloped the Diamond Gala Room that night. Giant crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling reflected a golden glow, illuminating hundreds of pairs of socialites, Wall Street businessmen, and corporate throne heirs wearing custom tuxedo suits and top-tier designer gowns. In this place, a person's social status was measured by how sparkly the jewels attached to their bodies were.

Outside the building, a simple yellow taxi stopped in front of the red carpet. The door opened, and Julian Vance stepped down.

He did not wear a luxury suit worth tens of thousands of dollars like the billionaires around him. Julian only wore a plain black shirt given by Chloe Miller—a cheap shirt from the lower district market whose fabric fibers were a bit coarse. However, as the man walked upright piercing through the crowd, the atmosphere around him suddenly changed. His robust body shape, his firm jaw, down to his pair of eyes as cold as polar ice radiated a highly dense aura of dominance. That cheap clothing instead clung like a captivating war armor, making several elite women spontaneously turn around to look at him with curious glances.

Julian's steps halted right in front of the verification deck gate. Two large-bodied security officers with cyber markers on their ears immediately stepped forward, blockading Julian's path while looking at his far too casual appearance with a condescending glance.

"Pardon us, Sir," said one of the security officers with a cold formal voice. "This event is a closed private auction. You cannot enter without an official physical invitation from the Blackwood Legal law firm or the Vance family foundation."

Julian was not surprised, nor was he resentful. He only stood calmly with both hands tucked into his pants pockets. "Check your digital system again," he said flatly, his voice a low baritone yet possessing an intimidating emphasis.

The security officer snorted faintly, feeling the young man in front of him was merely bluffing. However, right when he touched the guest verification tablet screen, the device suddenly flickered red independently. The gala's internal system had just been infiltrated and injected with absolute encrypted data by Julian's System.

Bzzzt.

A golden identity row appeared on the tablet screen, forcing the gala security manager monitoring from behind the scenes to immediately run out with a deathly pale face. The middle-aged man directly bowed in respect almost ninety degrees in front of Julian, making the two security officers earlier widen their eyes completely in shock.

"O-Our deepest apologies for our members' insolence, Mr. Black!" exclaimed the manager with a voice trembling in fear. "We did not know you would come in person. Please, the front row VIP seat has been specially prepared for you."

Julian only nodded slowly, then stepped inside crossing the security barricade which now bowed obediently. Behind his back, the elite guests began to whisper noisily to one another, trying to guess who the figure of the young man in a casual black shirt called by the name "Mr. Black" was—the alias identity of the Blackwood Capital majority shareholder who recently was rumored to be preparing to swallow property assets in New York.

As soon as Julian occupied the VIP seat in the very front row, the room lights slowly dimmed. The focal spotlight shifted completely onto the main stage.

A middle-aged woman in an elegant emerald gown and a string of pearl necklace stepped up with a highly warm motherly smile. Valerie Vance. In front of the media camera flashes, she was an honorable philanthropist who led various fictitious charitable movements. However, inside Julian's cyber lens, that sight looked highly disgusting. Through the System's wireless network connected to the laptop in his apartment, Julian could see the transparent panel detecting that beneath this stage, Valerie's Vault-07 server was beginning to process fictitious digital transactions to launder $5 Million of illicit money.

Valerie's sweet voice reading a speech about "humanity" echoed through the loudspeakers, yet in Julian's head, Arthur Vance's cold voice ordering his mother's murder instead replayed much louder. Julian's hand grip on the auction manifest on his lap hardened until the thick paper became slightly crumpled. His handsome face remained calm, yet the corner of his lips donned a lethal predatory smirk.

"Alright, honorable ladies and gentlemen," exclaimed the auctioneer after Valerie's speech finished. "We begin tonight's auction with the first item. An antique diamond necklace left behind by 18th-century European nobility belonging to Madame Valerie's foundation. Our opening price starts from five hundred thousand dollars!"

Several businessmen who were Valerie's secret allies in the middle row began to raise their bidding paddles periodically, raising the price bit by bit to disguise that cash laundering process so it appeared like a valid auction transaction.

"Six hundred thousand dollars!" exclaimed the auctioneer. "Seven hundred thousand dollars in the middle row! Is there any more?"

Valerie Vance stood at the edge of the stage with a neatly arranged victorious smile. Everything was running according to her dark business plan.

"Seven hundred thousand dollars, once... twice..." The auctioneer prepared to tap his wooden gavel.

Precisely at that exact second, Julian Vance raised his bidding paddle with a single casual, yet highly arrogant hand movement. He leaned back on his VIP leather chair, then cut through the room's silence with his clear baritone voice.

"Two million dollars."

Thump.

The auctioneer's gavel tap hung in the air. The entire gala room suddenly fell into a dead silence as if the oxygen supply there was forcibly withdrawn. The number thrown by Julian was too nonsensical; he directly jumped past the market's standard limit and instantly locked the entire movement of illegal money nominal that Valerie's network was trying to spin.

The motherly smile on Valerie Vance's face instantly collapsed totally, her body stiffening perfectly on top of the stage. Her pair of cunning eyes moved sharply, staring directly toward the front VIP row—toward a foreign young man in a cheap black shirt who was now staring back at her with a look in his eyes as cold as death.