Chapter 14: The Auction

“Let's take this way, Rowland.”

The auction hall was filled with low murmurs and anticipation as people took their seats. Rowland observed the vast area from the entrance. 

Rich men and women were gathered around the elaborate chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, bathing them in a gentle golden glow. Their expensive clothes and well-mannered demeanor served as a sharp reminder of the world he had only recently entered, and he could feel the weight of their status.

However, fitting in was not the goal today. The idea was to make a statement.

Khalid, who had gone with him to the function, was ready to follow Rowland inside when Rowland waved a hand and refused. "Thank you, Khalid, but I am going in alone," he said, his voice steady. "I must do this on my own."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Khalid nodded. "As you desire, Mr. Rowland. I will be nearby in case you need me."

After adjusting his suit jacket and nodding curtly, Rowland strode into the hallway. He could feel the elite's eyes turning toward him even though the plush carpet beneath his feet muffled his footsteps. As he passed, he noticed that some of the faces he knew from the boardroom were whispering behind closed hands. 

He turned to look to the left as he moved. Clinton and Amaya were sitting there, close to the front. Their eyes locked on him almost instantly. Amaya's mouth twisted in mockery as her expression twisted into a sarcastic smile. 

She leaned over to speak in a whisper to Clinton, the din of the crowd drowning out her laughter. Clinton, who was sitting next to her, did not move much at first, but Rowland could see his eyes slowly narrow and his jaw tense.

Clinton's mind was full of rage. 'What exactly is he doing here?'

He kept thinking back to their last meeting, recalling Rowland's unexpected ascent, Khalid's outspoken endorsement of him, and Clinton's humiliation in front of the board. 

His disdain had been heightened by that scene. Clinton did not think Rowland could hold onto his position for very long because he was an unknown and, at most, a stepping stone.

Clinton was startled out of his reverie by Amaya's voice. "Look at him," she scoffed. "What could he possibly be doing here? He does not belong here. He is probably here to look foolish in front of all of these people.”

A smile that stopped short of Clinton's eyes stretched across his lips. "Allow him. He will not be around long. not in this particular world." His eyes never left Rowland, and retaliation was already on the tip of his tongue. 

He would have the gold ring today. That was beyond a reasonable doubt. Claiming the victory would not only solidify his power but also demonstrate to Rowland where he truly belonged—below him.

Rowland took a seat in the middle of the hallway, his back straight and his expression composed, but his thoughts were anything but peaceful. He sensed the weight of Amaya's and Clinton's looks, their disapproval hanging in the air between them. 

The auctioneer entered the room and brought everyone to a silence by announcing that the bidding would begin. The first few things went quickly; they were paintings, but Rowland said nothing. He was not interested in these smaller pieces. His gaze was focused on the gold ring.

After what seemed like an eternity, the auctioneer announced the arrival of the gold ring. The audience murmured as the ring was revealed—gleaming under the spotlight and set on a velvet cushion. It was one of the most valuable items in the auction because of its elaborate design and historical significance.

Rowland looked at Clinton, who was obviously poised to attack as he leaned forward in his chair. Clinton exuded confidence, and Rowland could almost see the smug smile he was wearing. The moment the auctioneer opened the bidding at a high price, hands started to rise.

“I will go for twenty five million dollars!”

“Fifty million dollars.”

“Seventy five million dollars!”

“Hundred million!”

“Two hundred and fifty million!”

Clinton wasted no time in launching an aggressive bid that significantly raised the stakes. The room was buzzing with excitement, and one by one, the other bidders dropped out, unwilling to match Clinton's offer. 

Amaya smiled proudly at Clinton. "You have got this in the bag," she said quietly. "No one else is going to challenge it."

Clinton's smirk expanded. "Of course. There is nobody here who can outbid me." He leaned back in his chair, already feeling the weight of success.

The auctioneer announced Clinton's bid again, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "Going once...going twice..."

Just as the gavel was about to come down, Rowland raised his hand. His voice was firm and confident, cutting through the air. 

"Twice that amount!"

The room became silent. Everyone turned to look at Rowland, including Clinton, whose face darkened with disbelief. Amaya glanced from Rowland to the auctioneer, then back to Clinton, her mocking smile freezing on her lips.

"Excuse me?" The auctioneer inquired, evidently taken aback. "Did you say double the amount?"

Rowland maintained an unwavering gaze. "That is correct," he said, his voice steady and firm. "Twice that amount."

Five hundred dollars! A murmur echoed through the crowd, disbelief and intrigue swirling together. Clinton's face flushed with rage, his fists clenching against the armrests of his chair. 

‘How dare he? How could Rowland possibly afford that?’

Amaya fixed a sharp look at Clinton, her eyes wide. "Clinton, do not simply sit there. You cannot let him win!"

Clinton's thoughts raced, but for the first time in a long time, he felt trapped. He had purposefully made a high bid to establish his dominance. Doubling it would require more than just his considerable wealth. He had not planned for this, had not even thought Rowland could be competitive at this level.

Feeling the anxiety, the auctioneer yelled once more. "Rowland has proposed twice the amount. Do I have any counter-offers?"

Clinton's teeth became grittier as his pride clashed with his reason. The room's eyes were on him, watching to see if he would strike back. Yet even with a higher bid, Clinton was aware that Rowland might still raise his own. 

The black card his mother had given him allowed him to outbid everyone. When Clinton recognized the trap Rowland had set for him, his mind exploded with annoyance.

“Going once…” the auctioneer’s voice cut through Clinton’s spiraling thoughts.

Clinton sat motionless, his fists still clenched, his heart thumping from embarrassment and rage.

"Going twice..."

Amaya leaned in and hissed through clenched teeth. "Do something, Clinton!"

Unfortunately, it was too late. The gavel crashed down with a loud crack.

"Sold! To Rowland Fence.”