The Star-Light Auction House was the crown jewel of the city's nightlife. It wasn't just a place to buy antiques; it was where the top 1% gathered to flex their net worth and trade favors.
Tonight, however, the entrance looked like a scene from a billionaire's fever dream.
One hundred gold-plated Rolls-Royce Phantoms were parked in a perfect, shimmering line, blocking the entire street. Armed guards in tactical gear stood every five feet, their hands resting on holstered sidearms.
And right above the grand arched entrance, a massive, glowing neon sign had been hastily installed. It pulsated in blood-red letters:
[NO DOGS OR CLARKS ALLOWED]
Ethan pulled the mangled Bugatti La Voiture Noire to a stop right in front of the lead Rolls-Royce. The front of the Bugatti was crushed, the hood crumpled from where he had smashed through the Valentine Estate gates, but the engine still purred with the power of sixteen cylinders.
Luna Valentine looked at the neon sign, her brow furrowing. "A personal vendetta? Boss, who did you offend in the last twenty minutes?"
"In the last twenty minutes? No one," Ethan said, his eyes narrowing as he stepped out of the car. He didn't care about the stares from the wealthy socialites stepping out of their limousines. He didn't care that his suit was still damp and ruined. "But in the last four years? The list is long."
As they approached the door, a man stepped out from behind the line of guards.
He was dressed in a white silk tuxedo that probably cost thirty thousand dollars. He had a glass of Cristal in one hand and a Cuban cigar in the other. His hair was slicked back perfectly, and his smile was dripping with malice.
"Well, well. If it isn't the campus charity case," the man drawled. "I heard a rumor that a 'trash' named Ethan Clarke was going around playing the part of a rich man today. I didn't believe it until I saw this piece of junk you're driving."
He gestured mockingly at the $20 million Bugatti.
Ethan stopped ten feet away. The memory clicked into place. Oliver Thorne.
The Thorne family was on a completely different level than the Crawfords. They were the "Shadow Kings" of the city's logistics and shipping industry. In college, Oliver had been the one who led the bullying against Ethan, once even forcing him to clean his shoes in front of the entire cafeteria.
"Oliver," Ethan said, his voice dangerously calm. "I see you're still fond of gaudy gold plating. It doesn't hide the smell of trash, you know."
Oliver's smile twitched. He took a slow sip of his champagne. "You've got a big mouth for someone who's about to be kicked out of my street. That's right, Ethan. I didn't just buy the auction house's guest list tonight. I bought the rights to this entire street for the next twelve hours. You're trespassing."
He pointed to the neon sign. "Read the sign, Ethan. You aren't welcome in high society. You can play with your little millions that you probably stole or won in a freak lottery, but in front of the Thorne family, you're still just a cockroach."
The surrounding crowd began to whisper.
"Is that the guy who bought the Royal Mall today?"
"He looks like a beggar. Oliver Thorne is going to crush him."
"The Thornes have a net worth of fifty billion. This 'Clarke' kid is out of his league."
Ethan didn't respond to the crowd. He looked at the blue screen flickering in his eyes.
[Time Remaining: 00:44:21]
[Budget: $1,000,000,000.00]
"You bought the street for twelve hours?" Ethan asked. "That's cute. But I don't like renting. I prefer owning."
Ethan turned to Luna. "Luna, who owns the Star-Light Auction House? Not the guest list, not the street rights. The actual company."
Luna's fingers flew across her tablet. "The Star-Light Group is a subsidiary of the Horizon Conglomerate, Boss. They've been looking for an exit strategy due to some offshore losses. The current valuation for the entire auction house, the building, and the global brand is $450 million."
"Offer them $900 million," Ethan said. "Tell them if the deal isn't signed in five minutes, I'll buy their parent company and fire the board of directors."
Oliver burst out laughing, nearly spilling his champagne. "Nine hundred million? You? You're going to buy a global auction brand in five minutes? Ethan, the rain must have soaked through your skull and rotted your brain. You don't have that kind of—"
"Luna," Ethan interrupted. "Make it an even billion. I want it done in three minutes. I'm starting to hate the color of that neon sign."
"On it, Boss," Luna said, her voice professional and sharp. She stepped aside to make the call.
Oliver sneered, signaling his guards. "Enough of this circus. Guards! Grab him. Break his legs and throw him into the gutter where he belongs. And the girl... bring her to my VIP suite. She's far too beautiful to be seen with a loser."
Four massive guards, each weighing at least 250 pounds, stepped forward. They pulled out telescopic batons, the steel clicking into place with an ominous sound.
"Wait!"
A voice screamed from inside the auction house.
A middle-aged man with a balding head and a face drenched in sweat came sprinting out. He was clutching a golden tablet. This was Mr. Sterling, the Chairman of the Star-Light Group (not to be confused with the Sterling Bank family).
"Stop! Everyone stop!" the Chairman yelled, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Oliver frowned. "Chairman Sterling? What are you doing? I'm just cleaning up the trash for your event."
"Trash?" Sterling looked at Oliver as if he were looking at a dead man. He then turned to Ethan, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and reverence. "Are you... are you Mr. Ethan Clarke?"
"I am," Ethan said.
"We just received... we just received a wire transfer of one billion dollars," Sterling stuttered, his voice echoing across the silent street. "The contract has been digitally executed. The Horizon Conglomerate has sold 100% of the Star-Light Group to you, Mr. Clarke. You... you are now my boss."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Oliver Thorne froze. The cigar fell from his mouth, landing on his white silk tuxedo and burning a hole in the fabric, but he didn't even notice. "One... billion? That's impossible! No one can move a billion dollars in three minutes! It takes weeks of banking audits!"
"For you, maybe," Ethan said, stepping forward.
He walked right up to Oliver, who instinctively stepped back, tripping over the lead Rolls-Royce.
Ethan turned to Chairman Sterling. "Since I own this place now, I have a few changes to make."
"Anything, Mr. Clarke! Anything!"
"First," Ethan pointed to the neon sign. "Take that piece of garbage down and burn it. Replace it with a sign that says: 'NO THORNES ALLOWED.'"
"Immediately, sir!" Sterling barked at his staff.
"Second," Ethan looked at the line of one hundred gold-plated Rolls-Royces. "These cars are an eyesore. They're blocking my customers. Get a fleet of tow trucks. Actually, don't bother. Get a industrial bulldozer. I want them crushed and sold as scrap metal. The proceeds can go to the local animal shelter."
"What?!" Oliver screamed, finally finding his voice. "Those cars cost me fifty million dollars! You can't do that!"
"I can," Ethan said, leaning in. "Because I just bought the street rights from the city council for the next ten years while you were talking. This is my property now. And you're trespassing."
He looked at the guards who had been about to attack him. They were now standing frozen, looking at Chairman Sterling for guidance.
"You heard the Boss!" Sterling yelled at the guards. "Seize Oliver Thorne! He's disturbing the peace on private property!"
In a delicious twist of fate, the very guards Oliver had hired grabbed him by the arms.
"Let go of me! Do you know who my father is?" Oliver thrashed, but the guards were professionals—they followed the money, and the money now belonged to Ethan.
Ethan reached out and took the glass of Cristal from Oliver's shaking hand. He took a sip, then poured the rest of the $2,000 champagne over Oliver's head.
"You said I was a cockroach, Oliver," Ethan whispered. "But it seems you're the one being swept out of the house."
"Throw him out," Ethan commanded. "And tell the tow trucks to start with the car he's leaning on."
The crowd watched in absolute shock as Oliver Thorne, the most powerful young master in the city, was dragged down the street, screaming threats that no one cared about anymore. Behind him, a massive construction bulldozer—part of a nearby roadwork crew Ethan had just 'hired' with a million-dollar tip—began to roll toward the line of gold Rolls-Royces.
CRUNCH.
The sound of fifty million dollars worth of luxury cars being flattened echoed through the night.
[Ding! Face-Slapping Successful: High-Tier Villain Humiliated.]
[Reward: +20 Attribute Points. $200,000,000 Cashback received.]
[New Skill: 'Aura of the Sovereign' (Passive) — People of lower net worth will instinctively feel pressured in your presence.]
Ethan turned to Luna, who was watching the destruction with a small, satisfied smirk.
"Is the auction ready?" Ethan asked.
"The VIP box is prepared, Boss," Luna said, offering him her arm. "And the main event of the night is about to begin. They're auctioning off the 'Dragon Heart' Diamond and the deed to the 'Imperial Gardens' estate."
Ethan nodded. "Good. I haven't spent nearly enough today. Let's go inside and see what else we can buy."
As Ethan walked into his newly acquired auction house, the entire lobby of billionaires and celebrities parted like the Red Sea. They didn't just look at him with curiosity anymore. They looked at him with fear.
He reached the grand staircase when his phone vibrated again.
[Ding! Secret Task Triggered: The 'Dragon Heart' Diamond contains a hidden map to a $100 Billion Hidden Treasure.]
[Task: Win the auction at any cost. A hidden rival from the 'Capital City' has arrived to stop you.]
[Budget for Auction: Unlimited.]
Ethan looked up toward the VIP balcony. A man in a traditional black Hanfu suit was staring down at him, his eyes cold and ancient. Unlike the arrogant young masters Ethan had dealt with so far, this man carried an aura of true power.
"Unlimited budget?" Ethan whispered to himself. "Now things are getting interesting."