Chapter 5 - The Auction of Broken Crowns
Two weeks had passed since the eviction from the suburban mansion.
The city’s high society was in the throes of an unprecedented financial earthquake.
Castellane Holdings had collapsed completely, its stock trading at absolute zero before being delisted from the regional exchange.
The Lacroix family was bleeding assets, desperately liquidating commercial real estate to service the sudden debt recalled by the Valenti maritime banks.
Yet, in high society, the appearance of wealth was often maintained until the final second before total ruin.
Tonight was the annual St. Jude Children’s Heritage Auction at the Royal Fairmont Hotel.
It was the premier philanthropic event of the winter season, where the city’s old money gathered to bid millions on rare art and family estates.
Vivian Lacroix stood in the rear corner of the grand ballroom, clutching an invitation she had barely managed to keep.
She had spent the last of her emergency credit card limit to purchase a silver designer dress, hoping to project an image of unfazed wealth.
Her father had refused to accompany her; Julian Lacroix was currently confined to his office, fielding frantic calls from maritime auditors.
Beside Vivian stood Dorian.
He wore his last remaining tailored suit, but the fabric hung loosely on his frame.
He had lost ten pounds in fourteen days.
Dark, hollow circles shadowed his eyes, and his stubble was unevenly trimmed.
"Why are we here, Vivian?" Dorian muttered, clutching a glass of cheap tap water he had taken from the bar.
"We don't have any money."
"My bank accounts are overdrawn by four hundred thousand dollars."
"The bank is repossessing my sports car tomorrow morning."
"Shut up and smile, Dorian," Vivian hissed through clenched teeth, her smile fixed and brittle.
"If society thinks we are ruined, we are truly finished."
"The investors here have deep pockets."
"If I can convince Uncle Gregory or the Vance family to back our new logistics venture, we can start over."
"We just need to show them that we are still standing."
At that moment, the auctioneer cleared his throat into the microphone at the center stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the featured lot of the evening," the auctioneer announced.
"Lot Number Twelve: The Lacroix Marina and Historic Manor."
A ripple of stunned murmurs swept across the room.
Vivian’s heart stopped.
She dropped her wine glass, the liquid staining the white tablecloth in front of her.
"What?" Vivian gasped, her voice cracking.
"Our family manor?"
"That's our ancestral home!"
The auctioneer continued smoothly.
"Due to an expedited foreclosure proceeding finalized this afternoon by order of the Maritime Trust, this premier forty-acre coastal property is being auctioned to settle outstanding debts."
"Bidding begins at twenty-five million dollars."
Vivian rushed toward the front of the auction hall, her face flushed with fury.
"Stop this!" she screamed, drawing the shocked attention of hundreds of wealthy patrons.
"This auction is illegal!"
"My father never signed off on the liquidation of our private residence!"
The auctioneer looked down at her with polite, frozen detachment.
"The paperwork was executed by the primary debt holder at four o'clock today, Miss Lacroix."
"The bidding is open."
"Do I have twenty-five million?"
Silence hung over the room.
No one moved.
No one raised a paddle.
The local tycoons knew better than to interfere in a debt execution carried out by the Valenti family.
Touching that property was equivalent to stepping between a lion and its kill.
"Going once at twenty-five million..." the auctioneer called out, looking across the quiet room.
"Going twice..."
A clear, melodic voice rang out from the VIP mezzanine above.
"Fifty million."
Every head in the room snapped upward toward the private balcony.
There, leaning casually against the polished brass railing, was Serafina Valenti.
She wore a breathtaking gown of emerald-cut white silk, adorned with diamonds that shimmered like cold stars under the chandelier light.
She held a gold auction paddle in her left hand.
On her right hand, the platinum serpent signet ring rested against the balcony rail.
"Fifty million dollars from Lady Serafina Valenti," the auctioneer declared, his voice trembling with excitement.
"Do I hear fifty-five million?"
Vivian looked up at the balcony, her fists shaking at her sides.
"You monster!" Vivian screamed, completely losing her composure in front of the entire assembly.
"You took Dorian's company!"
"You took his house!"
"Now you are taking my family's heritage?"
Serafina looked down at Vivian from the balcony.
Her dark eyes held no anger, no hatred, and no malice.
They held only the crushing weight of absolute indifference.
"Your father staked that manor against a maritime fuel loan six years ago, Vivian," Serafina said calmly, her voice carrying through the acoustic chamber of the ballroom.
"He defaulted on the payment schedule two weeks ago."
"I am simply settling the account."
"Fifty million going once," the auctioneer chanted rapidly.
"Going twice..."
"Sold to Lady Serafina Valenti!"
The gavel fell with a loud, resounding crack that echoed like a gunshot through the room.
Serafina set her paddle down on the small marble table beside her.
She looked down at the auction floor once more, her gaze shifting to Dorian, who stood frozen in the center aisle.
"And Vivian?" Serafina added softly.
The ballroom was so quiet that even a dropped pin would have sounded deafening.
"Yes?" Vivian choked out, tears spilling down her cheeks.
"You have twenty-four hours to remove your personal wardrobe from the Lacroix Manor," Serafina said.
"I have already donated the estate to the city."
"Starting next month, it will serve as a municipal shelter for women displaced by domestic abandonment."
A collective gasp rippled across the room, followed immediately by polite, admiring applause from several older society matrons who had long despised the Lacroix family's arrogance.
Vivian stumbled backward, clutching her throat, unable to breathe.
Dorian looked up at the woman on the balcony, watching as two uniformed attendants poured her fresh champagne.
He had lived with that woman for seven years.
He had slept in the same bed with her.
He had complained to her about the cost of his dry cleaning.
May you like
And now, with a single gesture of her hand, she had wiped out two entire dynasties without breaking a sweat.
***
