THE JANITOR HUSBAND IS NOW A CENTIMILLIONAIRE KING

CHAPTER 8

The ballroom fell into stunned silence after Alexander's ten million dollar bid, the magnitude of the sum hanging in the air like a physical presence. 

Conversations that had been flowing moments before died completely, replaced by the sound of rustling fabric as hundreds of guests turned in their seats to stare at the man who had just shocked them all into speechlessness.

Victor's face cycled through a spectrum of emotions—disbelief, fury, and then something that looked suspiciously like calculating triumph.

 His initial shock gave way to a slow, predatory smile as understanding dawned.

"Ten million," he repeated slowly, his voice carrying clearly through the hushed ballroom.

 "How... impressive." He paused dramatically, letting his words sink in.

"Of course, everyone here knows Edmund's strict auction policies. The bidder and the payer must be the same person. No proxies, no representatives, no one else can pay on your behalf."

Several guests nodded knowingly.

 Edmund Blackwood's auctions were legendary for their rigid enforcement of payment protocols—a policy born from years of dealing with wealthy individuals who sometimes tried to use intermediaries to obscure their purchases.

Victor's smile widened as he turned to face Alexander directly. 

"I'm assuming you're aware of this rule? Because it would be... unfortunate... if someone placed bids they couldn't personally honor."

Alexander remained standing, his expression calm and unreadable. 

"I'm well aware of the rules."

"Excellent," Victor said, his voice dripping with false concern.

 "In that case, I suppose there's no harm in continuing." He turned back toward the stage. "Ten point two million."

The crowd drew in a collective breath. What had started as a straightforward auction was rapidly becoming a personal duel between two men with very different stakes in the outcome.

Alexander didn't hesitate. "Eleven million."

Gasps echoed through the ballroom, and several guests actually stood up to get a better view of the proceedings.

 The bids were escalating at a pace that left even the wealthy elite present feeling breathless.

"He's lost his mind," Patricia Vandemeer whispered to her husband, loud enough for nearby guests to hear.

 "Does he have any idea what kind of trouble he's walking into?"

Harrison Webb shook his head in amazement. 

"Either he's the greatest con artist in history, or he's about to learn a very expensive lesson about Edmund Blackwood's enforcement policies."

From her seat several rows ahead, Lila felt panic rising in her chest like ice water. 

She recognized the look on Alexander's face—the same stubborn determination that had driven him to work double shifts when they couldn't make rent, the same refusal to back down that she'd once found endearing and now found terrifying.

She twisted in her seat, her voice cutting through the murmur of conversations. "Alexander, stop this! You're being completely reckless!"

Her words carried clearly through the ballroom, and Alexander's gaze found hers across the rows of seated guests. His expression softened slightly, but his resolve remained unchanged.

"Alexander," she continued, her voice rising with anxiety, "that black card you have—it's fake! It won't work here, not with Edmund Blackwood. Do you have any idea what happens to people who disrupt his auctions? There are stories—rumors about someone who bid without being able to pay. They say Edmund's security didn't just escort him out. They made an example of him."

Her voice cracked with genuine fear, and several guests nodded grimly. 

Edmund Blackwood's reputation for dealing with auction disruptions was well-known in their circles, though the details were usually whispered rather than spoken aloud.

Alexander's voice was gentle but firm when he replied. "Lila, you don't need to worry about me."

"Don't need to worry?" she shot back, her composure finally cracking.

 "You're about to bid money you don't have at an auction where the consequences for fraud are—"

"Eleven point two million," Victor interrupted smoothly, his timing calculated to maximize the dramatic effect.

 He was practically glowing with anticipation now, his earlier fury replaced by the excitement of someone watching an elaborate trap spring shut.

The crowd turned back to Alexander, waiting for his response. 

Several guests had their phones out, recording what they clearly expected to be either the most spectacular con in auction history or its most catastrophic failure.

"Twelve million," Alexander said calmly, as if discussing the weather.

More gasps, more frantic whispering. The price had now reached levels that even the wealthiest families present would struggle to meet without serious financial planning.

Victor's smile became positively luminescent. Everything was proceeding exactly as he'd hoped. 

Alexander was digging himself deeper with every bid, and Victor was perfectly positioned to spring his trap at the most humiliating moment possible.

"Twelve point one million," he said, making the smallest increase possible. He wanted to keep Alexander engaged, wanted to drive the price as high as possible before revealing his strategy.

From her seat beside Alexander, Sophia Sterling watched Victor's performance with the detached interest of someone observing a particularly foolish insect. 

Her professional experience in high-stakes financial dealings had given her an excellent ability to read people's motivations, and Victor's tactics were transparently obvious to anyone with training in psychological manipulation.

"Thirteen million," Alexander responded without hesitation.

The crowd was beyond stunned now—they were witnessing bidding at levels that transcended mere wealth and entered the realm of legend. 

Even Edmund Blackwood himself looked impressed from his position on the stage, though his expression remained carefully neutral.

Victor maintained his confident facade, but internally, he was calculating rapidly. 

Thirteen million was approaching the upper limits of what his family could comfortably absorb, but it didn't matter. 

He had no intention of actually paying that much.

 His plan was much more elegant than simply outbidding Alexander—he was going to let Alexander win and then watch him face the consequences.

"Thirteen point one million," he said, keeping his increase minimal.

 "Though I have to say, the competition tonight is quite... spirited."

Alexander studied Victor's face for a moment, reading the calculating gleam in his eyes, the barely suppressed excitement that suggested someone anticipating a victory that had nothing to do with acquiring the ring.

"You know what?" Alexander said, his voice carrying a new edge that made the entire ballroom fall silent.

 "You're absolutely right. The competition has been spirited."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the hundreds of faces turned toward him in rapt attention.

"Twenty-five million dollars."

The number hit the ballroom like a physical force. Several guests actually gasped audibly, and at least two women appeared to need smelling salts.

 The bid was so far beyond anything they'd expected that it seemed to exist in a different category of reality altogether.

Lila's face went white with horror.

 "Alexander, what have you done?" she whispered, though her voice carried in the absolute silence that followed his bid.

Victor's confident expression flickered for just a moment before being replaced by pure jubilation. Alexander had just guaranteed his own destruction with a bid so astronomical that the consequences of failing to pay would be legendary.

"Twenty-five million," Edmund Blackwood repeated from the stage, his voice tinged with awe.

 "Do I hear twenty-five point one?"

Victor made a show of considering, then slowly shook his head with what appeared to be reluctant admiration.

 "I have to concede," he announced to the crowd.

 "Twenty-five million is simply beyond my comfort level for a single piece, no matter how extraordinary."

The crowd murmured appreciatively at his apparent financial wisdom, though Victor's eyes gleamed with anticipation of what would come next.

"Going once," Edmund called.

"Going twice."

"Sold, for twenty-five million dollars."

As the gavel fell, Victor rose from his seat with theatrical concern. 

"Edmund," he called out, his voice carrying clearly through the ballroom, "given the extraordinary nature of this sale, perhaps we should publicly verify the winning bidder's ability to honor such a substantial commitment? I'm sure everyone here would appreciate the assurance that this magnificent auction won't be disrupted by... payment difficulties."

The suggestion hung in the air like a challenge, and all eyes turned to Alexander as the moment of truth approached.