The invitation sat on Rachel's desk, smelling faintly of expensive perfume. It was a heavy, cream-colored card with gold edges.
"Why would Diana Song invite us?" Wesley asked, pacing her office. "At the last gala, she acted like we didn't exist. Now she's giving us a seat at the main event?"
"It's a power move," Rachel said, rubbing her temples. "She's the one hosting the auction for the warehouse operating license. If we don't show up, we're basically telling the city we've given up. We have to go, even if it's just to show we're still standing."
Elaine nodded firmly. "Exactly. We'll go, we'll look our best."
The Day of the Auction
The Grand Regency was packed. Expensive cars lined the driveway, and the air hummed with the sound of Riverview's elite. Ethan pulled the Lin's old sedan into the garage, hiding it behind a row of SUVs.
"Wait here," Elaine ordered as they climbed out. "If you so much as step into the lobby, you're toast!!!."
Once the doors closed behind them, Ethan leaned back. The passenger door opened, and Lu Chen slid in. He looked stressed.
"Shadow Guards are in position," Lu Chen reported. "But boss, Diana Song is playing a very dangerous game. She's feeding Marcus fake info through the Vipers. She's basically leading him to the slaughterhouse with a trail of gold."
Lu Chen paused, glancing at Ethan. "Honestly? I think she's doing all this just to get your attention. She's like a shark that's found its favorite meal. It's a bit scary how much she's looking out for you."
Ethan looked at him coldly. "One more comment about her, Chen, and I'm sending you to the Lu family's lithium mines in the Congo. I hear the 110-degree weather is great for clearing up a big mouth."
Lu Chen turned pale and sat up straight. "Understood. No more jokes. Moving on."
"What's the deal with the license?" Ethan asked.
"Diana added a clause. The winner has three days to get a signed 'Consent to Operate' from the actual landlord of the warehouse. If they don't get the signature in 72 hours, the bid is void, and the 50% deposit is forfeited. Marcus is so arrogant he didn't even read the fine print."
Inside the ballroom, the auction was in full swing. It felt real—the smell of coffee, the rustle of programs, and the sharp, rhythmic voice of the auctioneer.
"Item 4: A 17th-century Ming Dynasty vase," the auctioneer called. "Starting at two million."
The bidding was fast. A local billionaire snatched it for four million. Next was a plot of coastal land that went for twenty million after a heated battle between two rival developers. The room was energized, the stakes rising with every gavel strike.
Finally, the main event arrived.
"The final item," the auctioneer announced. "The Exclusive Operating License for the Riverview Warehouse District. Bidding starts at $100 million."
He paused, looking over his glasses.
"Please note: Per city regulations, the winning bidder must obtain written consent from the landlord of the physical property within three business days. Failure to do so will result in the cancellation of the license and the forfeiture of the 50% deposit."
The room whispered, but Marcus Lu, sitting in the front row, just smirked. He looked back at Rachel and winked. Who would say no to a Lu? he thought. The profit from the warehouse was billions—a little signature from a "local landlord" was a formality.
"One hundred and twenty million!" a bidder called.
"One hundred and fifty!" another shouted.
Marcus waited until the energy peaked. He stood up, his voice cutting through the room. "Three hundred million!"
The room went silent. It was a massive jump.
"Three hundred and twenty," Diana Song's representative said calmly from the side.
Marcus's face flushed. He was a Lu; he wouldn't be outbid in a backwater city. "Four hundred million!"
The room gasped. It was more than the license was worth, but the greed in the room was contagious. The Song representative smiled and sat down.
"Four hundred million once... twice..." THWACK. "Sold! To Mr. Marcus Lu!"
Marcus stood up, laughing. He turned to Rachel, his eyes filled with triumph.
He walked to the stage and signed the deposit papers. He was on top of the world, unaware that he had fallen into the prey's trap.
As Marcus walked out of the ballroom, surrounded by reporters, he passed a service hallway. A man was standing there, leaning against the wall in a cheap suit.
Marcus didn't even look at him.
Ethan watched him pass, his face expressionless.
"Such a fool, Marcus," Ethan whispered to the empty hallway. "Let's see how much that signature is worth to you."
Ethan turned and walked back toward the garage. The trap was set. Marcus had just handed over $200 million of the family's money for a signature that Ethan held in his pocket.