THE KING RETURNS FOR WAR!

Chapter 6: The Charity Auction - Part 2

The silence in the ballroom was deafening.

Adrian stood with his paddle raised, his expression calm and neutral.

The auctioneer stared at him, clearly uncertain. "Sir, you're... you're bidding one million dollars?"

"Yes," Adrian said simply.

The crowd erupted into whispers.

"Did he just—"

"One million?!"

"Where would he get that kind of money?"

"Is this a joke?"

Marcus recovered first. He laughed. Actually laughed, the sound echoing through the ballroom. "You? One million?" He shook his head, amused. "This is entertaining. I'll give you that."

He raised his paddle casually. "One point two million."

The auctioneer looked relieved. Back to familiar territory. "One point two million from Mr. Tang—"

"One point five million," Adrian said.

His voice was calm. Steady. No hesitation.

The whispers grew louder.

Marcus's smile faded slightly. He studied Adrian, trying to understand what game he was playing. "One point five? Alright then." He raised his paddle again. "Two million."

"Two point five million," Adrian responded immediately.

No pause. No uncertainty. Just a simple counter-bid.

The crowd was buzzing now.

"He's actually bidding!"

"Where is he getting this money?"

"This doesn't make sense!"

Derek pushed forward, his face confused and angry. "Brother, what are you doing? Stop this nonsense!"

Adrian ignored him.

Marcus's jaw tightened. This was supposed to be easy. Supposed to be humiliating for Adrian. But the man kept bidding like money meant nothing.

"Three million," Marcus said, his voice harder now.

"Four million," Adrian replied.

Gasps echoed through the ballroom.

***

Elena grabbed Adrian's arm, her voice urgent and panicked. "Adrian, stop! We can't afford this! Please!"

Adrian looked down at her. His expression softened just slightly. He leaned close and whispered, "Trust me."

"But—"

"Trust me," he repeated.

Something in his eyes—that calm certainty—made Elena fall silent. She didn't understand. None of this made sense. But she nodded slowly, her hand still gripping his arm.

Marcus was watching them, his eyes narrowed. Four million. That was serious money, even for him. But he couldn't back down now. Not in front of everyone. Not after he'd made such a show of challenging Adrian.

"Five million!" Marcus's voice was sharp, angry now.

The crowd murmured louder.

"Five million!"

"This is insane!"

"How high will they go?"

Adrian remained completely calm. His face showed nothing. "Six million."

***

Marcus stared at him. Who was this man? The broken convict he'd researched? The nobody who'd spent five years in prison? That man shouldn't be able to bid six thousand, let alone six million.

"Seven million!" Marcus practically shouted.

The ballroom was in chaos now. People pressed closer, phones out, recording everything. This was the most dramatic auction anyone had ever witnessed.

Derek looked between Marcus and Adrian, his face pale. "Brother, stop! You're going to—"

"Eight million," Adrian said quietly.

His voice cut through the noise. Calm. Controlled. Certain.

Marcus's hands clenched into fists. Eight million. That was approaching his limit. Not because he didn't have the money—he had far more than that. But spending eight million on a single jade pendant, even a rare one, was excessive. Wasteful.

But his pride wouldn't let him back down.

"Nine million!" Marcus's voice shook slightly.

The crowd went wild.

"Nine million!"

"This is unprecedented!"

"Who's going to win?"

Patricia stood frozen, her face white. Derek looked sick. Elena was trembling, her hand tight on Adrian's arm.

Adrian paused.

Just for a moment.

The silence stretched. Everyone held their breath.

Marcus's smile returned, shaky but there. He'd won. Adrian had finally reached his limit. Of course he had. This whole thing had been a bluff. A desperate—

"Ten million," Adrian said.

***

The ballroom erupted.

People shouted. Gasped. Some laughed in disbelief. Others stared in shock.

Ten million dollars.

For a single jade pendant.

Marcus's face went pale, then red. "You—"

"Ten million," Adrian repeated calmly. His eyes met Marcus's. Cold. Steady. Unflinching.

The auctioneer looked between them, his hand shaking on his gavel. "Ten... ten million from paddle forty-seven. Do I hear—"

Marcus opened his mouth. The words were right there. Eleven million. He could say it. He should say it.

But ten million.

That was serious money. Real money. Even for him. And there was no guarantee Adrian would stop. The man seemed to have no limit. No hesitation.

Marcus's mind raced. If he kept bidding and Adrian continued, where would it end? Fifteen million? Twenty? For a jade pendant?

His pride warred with his business sense.

"Mr. Tang?" The auctioneer prompted gently. "Do you wish to bid?"

Everyone waited.

Marcus's jaw clenched. His hands were shaking with rage. But he slowly lowered his paddle.

"No," he said through gritted teeth.

The crowd gasped.

"Ten million going once," the auctioneer called, his voice excited now.

Derek grabbed Marcus's arm. "Mr. Tang, you're letting him—"

"Going twice!"

Marcus stood rigid, his face a mask of fury. He'd been beaten. By a convict. By a nobody. In front of everyone.

"Sold!" The gavel came down with a sharp crack. "To paddle number forty-seven for ten million dollars!"

The ballroom exploded into chaos. People shouted, laughed, argued. Some pulled out phones, already spreading the news.

Derek looked like he might faint. "Brother, how did you—"

Patricia stumbled forward. "Where did you get ten million dollars?!"

Elena just stared at Adrian, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. "Adrian?"

Adrian calmly lowered his paddle. His expression hadn't changed throughout the entire bidding war. Still calm. Still neutral.

Marcus was breathing hard, his face red. He'd been humiliated. Beaten at his own game.

The auctioneer composed himself, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. This was the most successful auction in the hotel's history. Ten million dollars!

He walked down from the stage, approaching Adrian with a payment terminal. His hands were shaking slightly, whether from excitement or nervousness wasn't clear.

"Sir," the auctioneer said, his voice professional but strained. "Congratulations on your purchase. How would you like to pay?"

The entire ballroom fell silent again.

This was it. The moment of truth.

Marcus's face shifted from rage to a cruel smile. "This will be good." His voice carried across the quiet room. "He can't possibly—"

Adrian reached into his inner jacket pocket.

The movement was slow, deliberate.

Everyone watched.

He pulled out a card. Black. Sleek. Unmarked except for a small symbol in the corner.

The auctioneer's eyes widened. "Is that... a Centurion Card?"