The Heiress's Wager Chapter 8

One week later.

Sotheby’s, Midtown Manhattan.

The Tribeca Waterfront Development auction.

This land was worth at least $500 million. Prime location for luxury residential towers.

Thorne Enterprises had been prepping for this for six months.

Their architects, designers, marketing—everything was ready.

They just needed the land.

But so did I.

The hall was packed with New York's most powerful developers.

I wore a black Tom Ford suit, hair in a severe bun, sitting front row.

Marcus was beside me.

Three rows over, sat Julian.

This was the first time we’d seen each other since the yacht.

He wore a navy suit, looking gaunt. Dark circles bruised his eyes.

Clearly, he’d had a rough week.

Our eyes met.

His gaze was complex—anger, pain, and a trace of... longing?

I looked away.

The auction began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a sealed-bid auction. Each bidder submits one confidential offer," the auctioneer announced. "Please submit your envelopes now."

This was unusual.

I expected it.

Thorne Enterprises had clearly pulled strings to change the format to sealed bids after the yacht incident, avoiding a public bidding war where I could drive up the price.

But what they didn't know was—

I had an inside line.

I knew their ceiling.

Three days ago, a friend of Marcus’s—who happened to work in Thorne finance—"accidentally" let me see their internal valuation.

Thorne’s max bid: $420 million.

I wrote my number, sealed the envelope, and handed it over.

The other bidders did the same.

The auctioneer collected them and went backstage.

Five minutes of waiting.

Silence.

Tension.

Julian stared at me the whole time.

I didn't look back.

The auctioneer returned.

"We received seven bids."

"Seventh place: $350 million."

"Sixth: $370 million."

"Fifth: $380 million."

"Fourth: $390 million."

"Third: $400 million."

Julian relaxed visibly.

He knew his bid was higher.

"Second place: $420 million, Thorne Enterprises."

Julian smiled.

He thought he won.

"First place: $450 million, Vane Capital."

Silence.

Total silence.

Then the room erupted in whispers.

Julian’s face went corpse-gray.

He stormed over to me.

The auctioneer tried to continue, "Congratulations to Vane Capital—"

"How did you know?" Julian hissed, low enough for only us to hear.

His voice shook.

I looked up at him.

"Know what?"

"Our bid. How did you know our exact limit?"

I smiled. "Julian, it's business. Relationships are everything."

"Maybe if you spent more time building real connections instead of manipulating people, you wouldn't lose."

His fists clenched.

"You bribed my staff."

"I exploited your loose management," I corrected him. "Your fault, not mine."

Marcus stepped in, hand on my shoulder. "Let's go, Seraphina. We have work to do."

I stood up.

As I passed Julian, I paused.

"Better luck next time, Julian."

My voice held no warmth.

Only cold politeness.

Outside, Marcus was laughing.

"Sera, that was..." He shook his head. "Ruthless. Brilliant. But ruthless."

"We overpaid by at least 30 million though. Worth it?"

I grinned.

"Absolutely."

I pulled out my phone and showed him an email.

"I have a contact in the City Planning Office. In two months, they announce the new subway line extension. Guess where one of the stops is?"

Marcus’s eyes went wide.

"Tribeca Waterfront."

"Exactly. When that news breaks, property value there jumps 40-50% overnight."

"Our 450 million investment becomes 650 million."

Marcus started laughing.

"You knew. You knew the whole time."

"Of course I knew."

"While I was busy playing Julian’s perfect girlfriend, I was building my own network. My own sources. My own power."

"He never saw it coming."

Marcus squeezed my shoulder.

"Dad is going to love this."

"Welcome to the big leagues, little sister."