Chapter 67
Sebastian’s heart was never truly his to give. There were moments when he wondered if Evelyn was squandering her youth and radiance by staying with him.
His gaze drifted toward her, lingering on her delicate wrist. Just as he expected, she still wore the bracelet his grandfather had gifted her.
Though it clashed with her ensemble today, she refused to remove it. Her attachment was undeniable. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, pulse quickening.
The Georgian Sky-Blue Porcelain Chalices ignited a fierce bidding war. The auctioneer could barely keep up!
“One million!”
“Twenty-five million!”
“Twenty-seven million!”
“Forty million.”
Sebastian raised his paddle with effortless grace, effortlessly outbidding every rival in the room.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Evelyn, too, was taken aback, her gaze flickering toward him involuntarily. The man had questionable taste in women, but his eye for antiques was impeccable.
Sebastian caught her stare. His dark, amber eyes locked onto hers, sharp and assessing. The intensity of her cold glare sent an unexpected pang through his chest.
Evelyn swiftly averted her gaze.
In the end, Sebastian claimed the chalices, adding them to his prized collection. Envious murmurs spread through the room.
“You can serve me wine in these,” Damien teased, smirking. “A forty-million-dollar cup suits my standards.”
Sebastian scoffed. “Too small for your appetite. I have something more fitting for you.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“A toilet.”
Damien’s expression darkened. “Damn it, that’s not what I meant!”
Evelyn overheard and turned away, suppressing a smirk.
Vanessa, however, was seething. Forty million on cups? What was he thinking? That money could’ve bought a villa!
She wasn’t even married into the Blackwood family yet, but she was already stressing over their finances.
“The next item is of extraordinary significance,” the auctioneer announced. “A personal treasure, kept by an anonymous collector for fifty years—an Antique Rosewood Chair!”
The chair was unveiled with reverence, carried in by four gloved attendants.
“This is it,” Damien murmured, nudging Sebastian.
In perfect unison, Sebastian and Evelyn straightened, their postures mirroring each other—both poised, both determined to win.
“Starting bid: thirty million!”
The room erupted. Wealthy tycoons and bankers raised their paddles in rapid succession, driving the price higher.
Thirty million was the highest opening bid of the night.
Isabella and Cassandra, who had been vying for attention earlier, hesitated at the staggering sum. The Delacroix family had long retreated to the sidelines, blending into the decorative foliage.
Then, a calm voice cut through the frenzy.
“Sixty million.”
The bidder raised a hand, unshaken.
