Chapter 292: Maya’s First Auction

Chapter 292: Chapter 292: Maya’s First Auction

The crystal chandeliers of the Meridian Gallery did not merely illuminate the grand hall; they cast a blinding, diamond-cut brilliance over the absolute peak of Valoria’s financial elite.

Standing on the balcony tier-3, row A, seat 04, Maya Vane swallowed hard, her pulse hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

The air up here was thin, expensive, and heavy with the scent of vintage French champagne, designer perfume, and old money. Every single person moving through the sprawling ballroom below was draped in bespoke Italian wool, heavy silks, and jewelry that could have comfortably funded a small municipal district.

Maya clutched the railing of her balcony, her knuckles turning white. She glanced down at her outfit—a sleek, emerald-green evening gown she had splurged on just days ago from the high-end boutiques on Central Avenue, funded by months of strict budgeting and a nearly maxed-out student credit line. Paired with her freshly styled hair and subtle, elegant accessories, she looked every bit the part of a high-society insider.

At least, she prayed she did.

’Act like you belong here, Maya,’ she chanted internally, desperately swallowing the lump of panic rising in her throat. ’Do not stare at the crystal chandeliers like you’ve never seen glass before. Do not look like a country bumpkin who just wandered off a campus bus.’

She forced her shoulders down, relaxing her posture into what she hoped looked like graceful, bored aristocracy. But inside, her senses were reeling. Nearby, a liveried waiter glided past carrying a silver tray of sparkling refreshments. Maya carefully picked up a crystal flute of pale golden champagne, taking a cautious sip. The effervescence was unlike anything she had ever tasted—crisp, complex, and completely devoid of the cheap, sweet burn of university party punch.

When she ventured to sample a small, artfully arranged pastry from the tiered snack display, her eyes widened in silent disbelief. It tasted like butter, rich cream, and heaven combined. ’Twenty thousand marks for a single entry pass,’ Maya reminded herself, a mixture of severe buyer’s remorse and manic excitement fluttering in her stomach. ’The ticket alone cost more than my annual grocery budget. But I am not standing in the back. I am going to make every single mark count.’

She had only one goal tonight: to cross paths with Jake Rivers, prove her technical brilliance after surviving his corporate liquidity drop and hacking her way through server gates, and convince him to take her under his wing.

Below, the crowd parted smoothly as a cluster of high-profile corporate executives and media moguls murmured among themselves, their attention locked toward the grand central entrance and the unfolding spectacle outside.

Maya leaned forward, her eyes scanning the sea of polished faces. ’Where is he?’

A sudden surge of flashes erupted from the exterior red-carpet entrance, casting flickering beams of light all the way through the grand foyer windows. A low murmur of excitement rippled through the front rows of the gala.

Through the massive glass doors, a heavy Brabus pulled up to the red carpet just outside.

Maya held her breath as Elias stepped out from the front passenger seat, moving with military precision to open the rear door.

Then, he stepped out.

Jake Rivers.

He moved with an effortless, commanding aura that immediately drew every eye in the room. Draped in a razor-sharp charcoal tuxedo tailored to absolute perfection, he looked cool, composed, and utterly untouchable. He turned and extended a firm hand back into the cabin, helping Catharine step out. She looked stunning in a flowing burgundy silk dress, her dark hair styled in soft waves that rested against her shoulders.

As the media line went wild outside, microphones thrusting forward over the barrier and blinding flashes reflecting off the gallery’s polished stone facade, Maya watched closely from her balcony view. She noticed how Catharine visibly stiffened, her breath catching slightly under the sudden, blinding center of such high-profile media attention.

Without missing a beat, Jake smoothly wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close against his side in a firm, protective hold. He leaned down slightly, whispering calmly beside her ear, and as Catharine felt the grounding warmth of his grip, a confident, radiant smile returned to her face. Together, they walked up the red carpet with effortless grace, ignoring the shouting reporters as they crossed the threshold into the grand foyer.

Maya’s heart hammered against her ribs. Seeing him in magazines or across social media terminals was one thing; seeing the sheer, overwhelming presence of Jake Rivers in person—flanked by private security and influential associates eager to catch just a fraction of his attention—was entirely another.

’It’s really him. He’s right down there,’ Maya thought, her fingers tightening around the cold brass railing. ’Only a few yards away.’

---

Maya watched them ascend toward the exclusive private boxes. But before she could formulate a plan to slip down toward the VIP tier, a heavy, deliberate footstep sounded behind her.

"An absolute vision standing all alone in the gallery," a gravelly, self-assured voice murmured.

Maya turned around, her posture stiffening. Standing a little too close was an elderly man in a velvet-trimmed tuxedo. His hair was slicked back with heavy pomade, thick gold rings weighed down his swollen fingers, and his small, watery eyes scanned her emerald gown with an uncomfortably predatory hunger.

"Excuse me," Maya said politely, taking a slight step to the side.

The old man chuckled, stepping directly into her path. "No need to be shy, my dear. A young lady looking as striking as you shouldn’t be hiding up on the third tier by herself. Name’s Harold Trunk—though in these circles, most people know me a bit better."

Maya forced a tight, diplomatic smile, desperate to brush him off. "It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Trunk. But I’m actually quite fine enjoying the view."

Harold’s gaze lingered a fraction too long on her neckline before meeting her eyes with a confident smirk. "I can offer you a much better view than a balcony, sweetheart. Come down to my private suite after the auction. I’ll pour you some vintage wine you can’t even pronounce."

Disgust prickled at the back of Maya’s throat. She kept her voice ice-cold. "Thank you, but I’m not interested."

Harold’s smile faltered slightly, replaced by the condescending amusement of a man used to getting his way. He puffed out his chest, adjusting his lapels. "Look around you, young lady. Girls from ordinary backgrounds don’t just wander into a venue like this by accident. I happen to be the Chairman of Fate Pharmaceuticals. Valuation around seven hundred million marks. I’m a man who can take care of you for life—apartments, cars, designer clothes you only see in magazines. All you have to do is keep an old man company."

Maya stared at him, her expression hardening from polite rejection into pure, unadulterated contempt. She looked down at his greasy, aged face and felt a wave of visceral nausea.

"Even if you were worth seventy billion marks, Mr. Trunk, you couldn’t pay me enough to spend a second in your company," Maya snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "And quite frankly, your money is gross. Go bother someone else."

Harold’s face flushed a mottled, humiliated red. His watery eyes narrowed in spite. "You arrogant little ungrateful brat—do you have any idea who you’re talking to? Without a benefactor, a girl like you in this city is nothing!"

"I’d rather be nothing than anything near you," Maya retorted fiercely, turning her back on him with a sharp rustle of her emerald silk.

As she walked away, her heart pounded against her ribs, not from fear, but from a fierce, burning resolve. She glanced down toward Private Box 1, where the warm amber lights glowed against the tinted glass. Old, greasy men like Harold Trunk were a disease of this corrupted high-society world. But Jake Rivers... Jake commanded it with absolute, untouchable power.

’My heart doesn’t belong to a decaying bank account,’ Maya thought, her jaw set as she lost herself in the crowd. ’It belongs to the man at the top.’

---

Hours passed as the opening blocks of art and luxury collectibles flew by, punctuated by the rhythmic strike of the auctioneer’s gavel. Maya maintained her vigil from the balcony tier, her eyes darting between the bustling lower floor and the tinted glass panes of Private Box 1.

?Then came the final block.

?When the holographic projection of the Twin Islands flared to life across the stage, the entire gallery held its breath. Maya watched in absolute awe as the bidding war erupted among international syndicates, only for Jake Rivers to casually obliterate the competition with a jaw-dropping four-billion-mark jump, eventually locking down the two-thousand-acre sovereign territory for a staggering five billion two hundred million marks.

’?Five point two billion... just for an island,’ Maya thought, her jaw practically dropping open as she stared down at the digital board. ’And he did it so casually like he knew it was his.’

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