Reincarnated With the Ultimate Son-in-law System

Chapter 18

The auctioneer nodded toward Hulio. "One million dollars from Mr. Vega. Do I hear one million one hundred thousand?"

Michael raised his hand slightly, the gesture understated yet impossible to miss. "Six million."

A collective gasp rippled through the room. Jumping the bid by five million dollars wasn't just aggressive—it was a deliberate provocation. Beside him, Sophia Morris stiffened in surprise, her eyes darting between Michael and Hulio.

The auctioneer recovered quickly, professional despite his wide eyes. "Six million dollars from the gentleman in the mask. Do I hear six million one hundred thousand?"

Hulio's face flushed crimson, his jaw tightening as he stared at Michael across the room. The challenge was unmistakable, the public humiliation deliberate. After a moment's hesitation, Hulio raised his paddle.

"Six million five hundred thousand," he announced, voice carrying a forced confidence.

Michael didn't hesitate. "Seven million."

The room fell silent. This wasn't just a bid—it was a statement, a public dismantling of Hulio Vega's carefully cultivated image as the auction room's alpha predator. Even Olivia looked stunned, though she quickly masked her surprise.

Hulio's knuckles whitened around his paddle. For a moment, it seemed he might continue the bidding war, but pragmatism overcame pride. He shook his head curtly at the auctioneer.

"Seven million going once," the auctioneer called, a new reverence in his voice. "Seven million going twice..." He paused dramatically. "Sold to the gentleman in the black mask for seven million dollars!"

Applause erupted, accompanied by furious whispers as attendees speculated about the mysterious masked bidder who had just executed the most dramatic purchase in the fundraiser's history. Phones appeared throughout the room, capturing images of Michael that would shortly flood social media.

"Impressive," Sophia murmured beside him. "Though I'm curious why someone would pay seven million for that particular piece."

"Perhaps its value lies beyond the obvious," Michael replied cryptically.

As the auction continued with lesser items, Michael noticed the rapid spread of photographs across the room. Guests were openly examining their phones, glancing between their screens and him with undisguised fascination.

"You're trending," Sophia informed him, tilting her phone to reveal a social media feed. "#TheBlackInvestor is taking over every platform. Congratulations on your instant celebrity status."

Michael smiled behind his mask. The publicity served his purpose perfectly—creating a distinct persona entirely separate from Michael Crawford while simultaneously establishing credentials that would make people like Sophia take him seriously.

Across the room, Hulio was attempting to salvage his dignity, laughing loudly with his entourage as if the humiliating defeat had been inconsequential. Yet his eyes repeatedly darted toward Michael, resentment evident in every glance.

When the auction concluded, guests moved back to the main hall for drinks and networking. Michael's path to the bar was interrupted repeatedly by curious attendees attempting to strike up conversations, each hoping to discover the identity behind the mask.

"I'll need verification of your payment method before you leave," the auction house director informed him discreetly. "For a purchase of this magnitude."

"Of course," Michael nodded. "I'll arrange the transfer before departing."

When the director moved away, Hulio approached, two associates flanking him like bodyguards. His smile was tight, eyes cold.

"Quite the statement," he said, loud enough for nearby guests to hear. "Though I wonder if someone hiding behind a mask has the finances to back such extravagant bidding."

"You'll find my resources are adequate," Michael replied calmly.

"Seven million for that piece," Hulio continued, voice dripping with condescension. "Either you have more money than sense, or you're trying desperately to make an impression." He glanced meaningfully toward Olivia, who was conversing with collectors nearby. "Though I doubt overpaying for artwork will impress someone with her expertise."

"Perhaps my interest isn't in the painting itself," Michael suggested.

Hulio's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll understand soon enough," Michael replied. "Now if you'll excuse me, I see someone I need to speak with."

He moved away, leaving Hulio fuming behind him. The System interface flashed an update in his vision:

[Alert: Target subject approaching from your left. Sophia Morris seeking interaction.]

Michael turned to find Sophia moving purposefully toward him, her expression determined.

"You said we have mutual interests regarding the Crawford family," she said without preamble. "I think it's time you explained what you meant."

"Not here," Michael replied, gesturing toward a quieter area near the sculpture garden. "Too many ears."

As they moved away from the crowd, Michael noticed Olivia watching them with professional nonchalance, positioned to intervene if necessary. Nearby, Katherine was engaged in conversation with board members, while Eric observed the room with calculated interest. Neither had connected the masked sensation with Michael Crawford—exactly as planned.

"The Crawfords have significant influence over medical research funding," Sophia said once they reached a relatively private alcove. "Is that your interest? Competing for grants?"

"My interest is more specific," Michael replied. "Particularly regarding cardiac arrythmia treatments and the Crawford family's health history."

Sophia's expression shuttered immediately. "Patient information is confidential, Mr..."

"No name necessary," Michael said. "And I'm not asking you to violate confidentiality. I'm interested in protecting someone who might be vulnerable to manipulation."

Before he could continue, the auction house director approached with a tablet. "Excuse me, sir. About the payment verification?"

"Of course," Michael nodded, taking the tablet and entering cryptocurrency transfer details. The director's eyebrows rose as he verified the transaction.

"The funds have been received. Congratulations on your acquisition. Would you like it delivered, or will you arrange transportation?"

"Actually," Michael said, raising his voice slightly so that nearby guests could hear, "I'd like Ms. Wagner to examine the piece before I accept ownership."

Olivia looked up at the mention of her name, surprise briefly crossing her features before her professional demeanor took over. She approached as curious onlookers gathered, sensing another dramatic moment from the mysterious masked man.

"You want me to authenticate the painting?" she asked. "Now?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Michael replied, gesturing toward the modernist masterpiece that had commanded such an extraordinary price.

Hulio pushed through the forming crowd, unable to mask his curiosity. "Having second thoughts about your purchase?"

"Due diligence," Michael corrected smoothly. "Something perhaps you should consider before bidding."

The auction house director shifted uncomfortably. "This piece was authenticated before the auction, of course. We stand by its provenance."

"I'm sure you do," Michael nodded. "Yet I'd value Ms. Wagner's expertise."

Olivia approached the painting, examining it with practiced efficiency. She pulled a small penlight from her clutch, studying brush strokes and canvas texture with meticulous attention. After several tense minutes, she straightened.

"This painting," she announced, "is not an original. It's a forgery—and not a particularly sophisticated one."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. The auction house director blanched. "That's impossible! We have documentation—"

"The documentation may be genuine," Olivia interrupted, "but this canvas isn't. The pigment composition includes synthetic materials that weren't available when the artist was active. Additionally, the brush stroke pattern shows evidence of mechanical precision inconsistent with the artist's known technique."

The room erupted in shocked whispers. Hulio's expression transformed from smug interest to open astonishment as the implications registered.

"You knew," he said, staring at Michael. "That's why you bid so aggressively. You knew it was fake."

Michael didn't confirm or deny, letting the mystery enhance his persona. The auction house director was now in full damage control mode, assuring guests that all other pieces had proper verification.

"How did you know?" Sophia whispered beside him.

"I have resources," Michael replied enigmatically. "And an eye for deception."

The System message updated in his vision:

[Task progressing. Continue interaction with target subject.]

As the scandal unfolded around them, Michael used the distraction to guide Sophia farther from the crowd. "Now, about our mutual interests..."

She studied him with new respect. "You just exposed a multi-million dollar art fraud without blinking. Who are you, really?"

"Someone concerned about Richard Crawford's medical treatment," Michael said carefully. "Someone who believes there may be those who would prefer complications rather than recovery."

Sophia's expression darkened. "You're talking about deliberate interference with treatment protocols."

"I'm talking about the possibility," Michael clarified. "Has anything unusual occurred during Dr. Richard Crawford's treatment? Any unexpected visitors to the cardiac wing, unusual requests for information, personnel changes?"

Sophia hesitated, clearly weighing professional ethics against her concerns. "There was something. A request to modify the post-operative medication schedule, coming supposedly from the family but through unusual channels."

"When?"

"Yesterday," she replied. "I flagged it as procedurally irregular, but given who the patient is..."

"Trust your instincts," Michael advised. "Irregular procedures deserve scrutiny, regardless of the patient's status."

Across the room, Eric was moving purposefully toward them, his expression suggesting he'd finally connected some dots. Michael needed to end this conversation before his brother complicated matters.

"We should continue this discussion later," he told Sophia quietly. "Perhaps somewhere less public."

She nodded, slipping him a business card. "My direct line. But I expect more straight answers next time, mask or no mask."

As she moved away, Michael noticed the social media storm had intensified. Guests were openly recording the unfolding scandal, the masked man's dramatic revelation spreading far beyond the fundraiser walls. The auction house's reputation was imploding in real time, while Olivia was being surrounded by impressed collectors seeking her expertise.

Michael caught her eye across the room, exchanging a small nod of acknowledgment. His impulsive bid had achieved multiple objectives simultaneously—creating the Black Investor persona, exposing the auction fraud, elevating Olivia's professional standing, and establishing contact with Sophia Morris.

As Eric approached, Michael slipped away through a service corridor, mission accomplished. By the time his brother reached the spot where he'd been standing, the mysterious masked bidder had vanished, leaving only questions and speculation in his wake.

The System message flashed one final update:

[Task completed successfully. Enhanced Perception Level 3 unlocked.]

Michael smiled behind his mask as he exited through a side entrance.