They Chose The Fake Heir

Chapter 6

The Grand Regency Auction House was hidden behind the nondescript, heavily guarded facade of an elite private club downtown.

Normally, it was a playground for billionaires trading historical artifacts over champagne. Tonight, it felt like a meat market, and Charles Vance was the one on the chopping block.

Charles stood in a dim velvet holding box overlooking the main stage, his hands gripping the brass railing so tightly his knuckles cracked. Beside him, Eleanor clutched her faded designer trench coat, her eyes red and darting around the room.

"Charles, are you sure about this?" Eleanor whispered, her voice trembling. "Selling the family collection at a sixty percent discount? That Monet was passed down from my grandfather!"

"If we don't sell it tonight, the feds lock the vault tomorrow morning, and we have zero dollars, Eleanor!" Charles snapped, his voice ragged. He looked like a man running out of oxygen. "The broker promised a direct crypto transfer the moment the hammer falls. Twenty million is enough to buy us fake passports and a flight out of the country before Julian’s 'syndicate problems' catch up to us."

Down on the stage, the auctioneer, a man with a sharp tuxedo and an unreadable face, stepped up to the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we move to our premier flash-liquidation lot of the evening," the auctioneer announced, his voice echoing through the private audio feeds of the anonymous buyers sitting in the shadows. "The Vance Estate Collection. Three museum-grade impressionist masterpieces. Bidding starts at a reserve price of fifteen million dollars."

Charles held his breath.

Click.

The digital board flickered. A single bid flashed on the screen.

Bidder 88: $15,000,000

"Fifteen million from Bidder 88," the auctioneer intoned. "Do I hear sixteen?"

Silence stretched over the room. The seconds ticked away like a countdown timer on a bomb. Charles's phone buzzed in his pocket. He ripped it out, expecting the broker confirming the transfer window. Instead, it was an encrypted text from an unlisted number.

Fifteen million is a lot of money for stolen canvas, Charles.

Charles choked on his breath, his eyes widening as he stared at the screen.

Click.

The digital board flashed again, but the numbers didn't go up. They dropped.

Bidder 88: $5,000,000

The entire auction room erupted into muffled murmurs. Retracting a bid and lowering it mid-auction was an unprecedented, brutal violation of protocol.

"What is happening?!" Charles yelled, slamming his hands on the glass window of his box. "He can't do that! Auctioneer! Stop the bidding!"

The auctioneer didn't stop. He didn't even look surprised. He simply adjusted his microphone.

"The primary creditor of the Vance Group has just filed a localized lien against the assets currently on stage, citing international fraud. The market value of the lot has been reassessed. Bidder 88 stands at five million dollars. Going once..."

"No! Stop it! That art is worth forty million!" Eleanor shrieked, pressing her face against the glass.

"Going twice..."

Bang.

"Sold to Bidder 88 for five million dollars."

Charles felt his knees give way. He slid down the wall of the luxury box, dropping his phone onto the plush carpet. Five million dollars wasn't even enough to clear the interest on the frozen accounts, let alone fund a life on the run.

Before he could process the despair, the heavy mahogany door of the auction box was pushed open.

Two men in sharp, identical charcoal suits stepped inside, flanking a third figure who walked out from the shadows of the corridor.

It was Ethan.

He looked immaculate. The crisp lines of his tailored suit, the subtle glint of a luxury watch on his wrist, and the absolute, terrifying aura of authority radiating from him made the small room feel instantly claustrophobic. Behind him stood Sebastian, holding a sleek digital tablet.

"Ethan..." Eleanor gasped, automatically reaching a hand out as if she could still command him. "Ethan, baby, please tell us you did this to protect the art. You bought it for us, right? To keep it in the family?"

Ethan didn't answer her. He didn't even look at her. He walked to the center of the box, and one of his bodyguards immediately placed a pristine leather chair behind him. Ethan sat down, leaning back and resting his chin on his steepled fingers.

"The family died the moment you signed that waiver, Mrs. Vance," Ethan said, his voice a smooth, low purr that cut through the room like a razor.

Charles looked up from the floor, his face twisted in a mixture of terror and desperate rage. "You trapped the bid! You forced the price down! Why are you doing this to us, Ethan? We gave you a home for eighteen years, have a heart!"

"You gave me a cage," Ethan corrected him softly, his eyes flashing with a cold, piercing intelligence. "And you used my intellect to balance your dirty ledgers while you threw the scraps from your table to me. I bought your art tonight because I wanted to see the look on your faces when you realized that even your last desperate escape route belongs to me."

Ethan gestured slightly, and Sebastian stepped forward, turning the screen of the tablet toward Charles.

"Your five-million-dollar payout has just been successfully processed, Mr. Vance," Sebastian said with a polite, deadly smile. "However, as the primary owner of your outstanding domestic debt, Horizon Group has automatically intercepted the transaction. The five million has been applied to your interest penalties. Your remaining balance due is three hundred and ninety-five million dollars."

Charles’s breath left him completely. He stared at the red numbers on the screen. He was completely, utterly boxed in.

"Ethan, please," Eleanor cried, dropping to her knees and grabbing the hem of Ethan’s trousers. "We’re your parents! Julian... Julian is the one who lied! He's the one working for the syndicate! We didn't know!"

Ethan looked down at her hand on his suit, his expression turning into one of profound disgust. He didn't move, but one of the bodyguards immediately stepped forward, firmly but quietly forcing Eleanor’s hand away.

"You didn't know because you were greedy," Ethan said, standing up and buttoning his jacket. "You wanted a perfect heir to flaunt at your high-society galas, so you accepted a snake without checking his venom. And speaking of Julian..."

Ethan turned his gaze toward the door, his eyes narrowing slightly as his personal phone vibrated in his inner pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. A proximity alert from his Horizon Tower security detail was flashing.

TARGET 'JULIAN' HAS DEVIATED FROM AIRPORT HOTEL. POSITIONING: TRACKING TOWARD THE STERLING CONGLOMERATE VAULT.

A dark, predatory smile spread across Ethan's face.

"He's making his move," Ethan murmured, completely ignoring the weeping couple on the floor. "He thinks he can steal the Sterling family's private quantum decryption key to unlock my offshore firewalls."

Ethan walked out of the box, his boots clicking firmly against the floorboards. As he reached the threshold, he paused, looking back over his shoulder at the broken patriarch of the Vance family.

"Enjoy the airport hotel, Charles," Ethan whispered into the dark. "The room service is terrible."