The Young Student Trillionaire

Chapter 7

The auctioneer presented the bag as Item 6622 with a starting bid of $200,000. The war began again over this item, and Chance joined in when the price got to $400,000. The next bidder placed a bid at $450,000, and Chance, not wanting the bid to last that long, jumped it up to $800,000. This sudden spike in price caused a stir. It wasn’t just the money—it was the audacity. For some of the guests, it was borderline disrespectful. This was an elite auction house, not a playground for a young man trying to show off.

A low murmur rippled through the crowd, people turning their heads to see who had made such a bold move. It was the young man in a midnight-blue tuxedo—Chance Franklin. The boy with the face of calm arrogance. They didn’t know who he was yet, not fully. But they would.

The woman who had placed the $450,000 bid raised her paddle and called out, “One million.”

Gasps followed, a few chuckles from seasoned players in the room who appreciated a good duel.

Chance didn’t hesitate. "Three million," he said smoothly, without even lifting his gaze from the bag.

His mother, still on the call, groaned. “Chance, I think you should exercise some calm. That bag is not worth that amount. It’s a designer item, yes, but let’s not be ridiculous.”

“Relax, Mom,” he whispered into his earpiece. “It’s not about the bag. It’s about what it means to me. What it means I can now do. It doesn’t matter how much the bag was worth; I’m going to put a new price tag on it today.”

He wasn’t just spending money. He was exercising a new identity. Just a few months ago, his entire monthly budget barely scratched $5,000.  And even before he left his mother years ago, his highest allowance had been $500,000, and now, he had hundreds of billions of dollars in his bank accounts. What was a few million to throw around and give himself the satisfaction of wealth? What was the beauty of being the richest man alive if you don’t splash millions here and there? He would become conservative later, but for tonight, he wanted his trillionaire inhibition to flow. He didn’t care if the bag was made of unicorn skin. This was about showing himself—and the world—that he was a new man.

His mother couldn’t help but chuckle. “At least tell me you’re giving the bag to someone special.”

“Of course I am. It’s Chloe’s birthday gift,” he replied.

That softened her. “Alright then. But don’t forget the necklace is the real reason you’re there. All your bravado will be needed once it comes up.”

Chance smiled. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ve got it covered.”

But things weren’t over yet.

The woman he had outbid stood up and faced the auction organizers. “Who let a child into this elite auction?” she snapped. “This isn’t a frat party and should in no way be treated as such!”

All eyes turned again. The woman was stunning in a sharp black gown, jewels glittering at her throat. And her tone? Ice.

The organizers scrambled to calm her. “Mrs. Sanders, please—”

Chance froze.

Sanders?

As in Mary Sanders. Wife of Matthew Sanders. Net worth: $10 billion.

More importantly, mother of Rickon Sanders. The guy who’d slapped and mistreated him, not just that morning, but on other opportunities he’d had in the past three months at ESU.

The universe had a twisted sense of humor. And timing.

The organizers turned to Chance with a stern look as they sent someone over to talk to him.

The young lady tried to be respectful, but he could hear the trembling in her voice from her fear of Mary Sanders and the irritation in her tone for her intolerance of him. Chance could only smile. It was only a matter of time before the reverse became the case.

“Mr. Franklin, we ask that you please be mindful of bidding etiquette. We understand the satisfaction in bidding as you have, but please, there are rules here. Rules that must be followed.”

Chance said nothing, just nodded and smiled politely.

But inside?

Inside, a flame ignited.

He had let Rickon walk away earlier. But not anymore. The Sanders were going to feel the weight of their arrogance.

Mary Sanders withdrew her bid with a sneer, muttering something about the auction losing its standards. The crowd murmured with amusement and curiosity. Everyone knew Mary Sanders. No one had ever outbid her like that.

And yet here was this boy.

They wondered what it would mean for him and whoever his parents were. They all had children, their arrogant, spoiled brats who could exhibit behavior like this, most likely just to get a coveted bag for their overdemanding girlfriend. But this one must not have been properly schooled by his parents, they thought. Because everyone knew that Mary Sanders was the star of every auction she graced. With a net worth of $10 billion? Her husband could run any of them into the ground.

The item everyone had been waiting for rolled in.

Item 7733: The Red Diamond Oasis necklace.

The necklace Chance’s mother had sent him here for.

The auctioneer’s voice rang through the room. “This piece, ladies and gentlemen, is made from the last known red diamond remnant from Ancient Egypt. Rumored to have adorned Queen Cleopatra herself. Starting bid: twenty-two million.”

Mary Sander immediately raised her paddle. “Twenty-five million.”

Chance didn’t wait. “Fifty million.”

Gasps followed.

He wasn’t just outbidding. He was shutting it down.

Mary’s face flushed red. “This is absurd!” she shouted. “I want him out of here. Remove him! This is my item!”

The organizers hesitated—who wouldn’t want a customer willing to pay double price? But they obeyed; two representatives walked over to speak to Chance about his etiquette and also demand identification. He brushed them aside.

“I’m representing my mother, Julia Franklin,” Chance said calmly but in a voice that commanded attention. “She’s a registered member here, and as such...” he smirked at Mary directly as he said, “...you’re stuck with me.”

There was a ripple of murmur in the hall. Of course they all knew Julia Franklin. The 44-year-old congresswoman. One of the youngest members of the senate, a woman with so much audacity, she was practically taking America by storm. They weren’t fans of her because she’d shunned them at various points. Either them as a whole—the entire community of classist and elitist snobs—or some of them individually. She shunned their invites to what she termed frivolous and unnecessary events. To them she acted like she was better than them all, and they looked upon her with disdain. 

The rumour that she’d secretly been married to Steven O’Connor didn’t help matters. She’d become the object of a lot of hatred from women in her age range. And the hate hadn’t gone away.

They’d heard rumours about her having a son, but a lot of people didn’t believe it.

The organizers did their internal check to confirm. One of them returned moments later with a nod. “He’s authorized.”

The whole hall gasped. Everyone was in awe.

Mary stared at him, furious.

Then she made the fatal mistake.

She laughed bitterly and spat, “Your mother’s nothing but a stupid politician, whoring herself out thinking she could win a presidential election. Don’t think you can take that name of hers anywhere and earn respect.”

Silence. Heavy and sharp.

Chance’s jaw tightened.

His mother. The woman who fought through the dirt by herself and rose on her own.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he raised his paddle again. “One hundred million,” he stated with immense calm.

The auctioneer blinked, stunned. A moment passed as everyone stared. Surely no one was going to beat that.

“Sold!”

The gavel hit the podium with a finality that echoed louder than it should have.

The room burst into applause this time—not because of joy, but because of the scandal. A young man—barely out of boyhood—had dethroned Mary Sander publicly, brutally, with a hundred-million-dollar slap.

Mary stood slowly. She didn’t even look at the necklace, even though that was what she came for, as she desperately needed it for her own gala event. She knew this wasn’t Julia’s wealth speaking; Julia, she knows, wouldn’t spend such an amount on that necklace. No, not when her political campaign was draining her dry by the second. This boy must be something else.

The necklace was carried to Chance and placed in a velvet-lined case. He didn’t even look at it. His eyes were on Mary, the smirk of power on his face.

She stormed toward him. “Do you know what you’ve just done?”

He stood still, eyes steady. “You crossed a line you can’t uncross.”

“Who do you think you are?” she hissed.

Chance stepped closer. “I’m the man your family will regret disrespecting. Twice in one day.”

Mary stared into his eyes—and saw something terrifying.

Not a boy.

Not a playboy.

Not a spoiled brat.

Power. Real power.

Not from Julia.

This wasn’t political power.

This was something else. Something deeper. Older. More dangerous.

She didn’t understand it. But she felt it.

For the first time in her life, Mary Sanders felt fear.