The final echo of the auctioneer’s gavel didn’t sound like a conclusion; it sounded like a door slamming shut on an era. Julian Rollins stepped back from the podium, his silver hair catching the light as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. The electric indigo lighting that had defined the Millionaire’s Round began to warm, fading back into a standard, welcoming amber.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Rollins’ voice boomed, now carrying a note of genuine exhaustion and triumph. "This concludes our evening at the Meridian Gallery. I am humbled to announce that, thanks to your incredible generosity, we have raised a staggering 940 million marks for our partnered foundations—a record-breaking total for this annual event."

The room remained silent for a heartbeat before a wave of applause rippled through the floor.

"A special thank you," Rollins continued, his eyes briefly flicking toward Box 1, "to the new owner of the Meridian, Mr. Jake Rivers, whose personal contribution tonight totaled 650 million marks. Truly a historic evening."

The applause intensified, but beneath the clapping, the air was thick with the frantic, low murmurs of the elite. People weren’t just celebrating a charity; they were trying to process the billion-mark execution they had just witnessed.

"Did you see Sterling’s face on the screen?" a woman in the front row whispered to her husband. "He just bought his own company back with money he doesn’t have. He looked like he was having a stroke."

"Jake Rivers isn’t just a cub," a banker replied nearby, his face pale. "He’s a predator."

"It’s going to be the only thing on the news tomorrow," a man added, shaking his head. "A record-breaking charity night and a billion-mark execution."

---

Inside Box 1, the silence was broken by the sharp ’clack’ of Leon Hart setting his glass down on the table.

"Well," Leon said, a slow, appreciative whistle escaping his teeth. "I’ve seen some bloodletting before, but I’ve never seen someone pay over a billion marks to have their own teeth handed back to them. Nice touch, Noah."

Noah Chen shrugged, though the smug curve of his lips was impossible to hide. "The math was simple. Julian couldn’t afford to let us have that equity, and I knew he didn’t have the mental capacity to stop bidding once his ego was bruised. It was a tax on his arrogance."

Adrian Vale leaned forward, his expression more somber than the others. "Don’t get too comfortable. Sterling will be after blood now. Auctioning his equity was insulting enough, but Noah, you just made him look like a fool in front of every peer he has. You’ve made him even more dangerous."

Noah shrugged again, looking entirely unbothered. "Sterling couldn’t touch me even on his best day. Now? He has even less of a chance to do anything."

"He might not be able to touch us directly," Marcus interjected, his eyes narrowed as he watched the crowd disperse below. "But he can still find ways to screw with our operations, and that isn’t ideal for a clean takeover."

"It doesn’t really matter what he tries," Jake said, speaking for the first time. He remained seated, his eyes fixed on the empty stage. "He’s running out of time, while we can afford to play the waiting game. By tomorrow morning, this auction will be all over the news. Julian Sterling will be the laughingstock of Veyra."

Marcus nodded, his professional assessment shifting. "True. And with the buzz from tonight, the Meridian Group’s stock is going to rebound hard. If you can find a way to take over the entire Group, Jake, it’s a guarantee for the stock to climb to record highs."

Jake didn’t reply immediately. ’Take over the entire group huh,’ he thought. The idea took root in his mind, a cold, ambitious weight. He didn’t just want a chair; he wanted the whole table.

"That’s a bold move, Marcus," Elizabeth Roys chimed in, her voice smooth as silk. "But the Meridian Group isn’t something that can just be taken. It may be the Rivers family legacy but but still."

Marcus didn’t reply but instead smiled like he knew something that she didn’t.

---

Marcus stood up, adjusting his watch. He looked at Jake with a newfound level of respect. The "Newcomer" was gone; in his place sat a man who had just outplayed a titan.

"I’m heading out," Marcus said. "Aurelia has a lot of paperwork to prep for Monday. If we’re taking Sterling on after tonight, we need to be ready for him to hide assets over the next forty-eight hours."

"He’ll try," Jake said. "But his own board will be looking for his head now. He’s a liability."

Noah stepped forward, offering a brief, firm nod. "Don’t celebrate too early, Jake. We haven’t won the war yet, and we’ve created a vacuum. People are going to start asking who you are and what you want next. Get some rest."

Leon Hart stood up and turned to Elizabeth. "Alright, Lizzy, we should get moving before your father scolds me for bringing you back late."

Elizabeth Roys stood, smoothing her gold dress. She gave Leon a dry, unimpressed look. "Leon, you really should stop being so afraid of him. It’s beneath you."

Leon winced, looking like he wanted to argue but knowing he’d lose. He just cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, muttering something about "healthy respect" as he moved toward the door.

Elizabeth paused beside Jake. "You handled the ’broken glass’ well, Jake. But remember: the Meridian is a jewel, and jewels are meant to be displayed. Don’t spend too much time in the shadows. My father will likely want to speak with you soon."

With a final, shallow smile, she left the room with Leon in tow.

Jake remained in the box with Adrian. The silence felt different now—less like a siege and more like a recovery. Adrian pointed at Jake’s right hand, where the knuckles were swollen and dark.

"Do you need help with that?" Adrian asked.

Jake looked down at his red knuckles, the dull throb a reminder of Alex’s face. "I have it under control."

Adrian looked at him for a long minute, searching for something in Jake’s expression. He eventually nodded and stood up to leave. As he reached the door, he looked back. "I know what he did isn’t excusable, Jake. But focus on the war with Sterling for now. Don’t let the personal stuff blind you to the finish line."

"Don’t worry about me, Adrian," Jake said.

Adrian gave a single nod and stepped out into the hallway.

---

As the box cleared, the door opened tentatively. Mark Orton and Kennedy Reigns stood there, looking like they had aged decades since the start of the evening. Kennedy, usually so loud and demanding, looked like he was afraid to breathe the same air as Jake.

"Mr. Rivers," Mark began, his voice trembling. "Please, forgive us for not coming to greet you properly earlier. The chaos of the final round was... a lot to manage."

"It’s water under the bridge, Mark," Jake said, though his tone was flat. "Just make sure it doesn’t happen again."

"The final tallies are in, sir," Mark continued quickly. "Over 600 million marks will be distributed to the foundations you selected."

"Good. I want a full report on the gallery’s security and internal communications on my desk by Monday morning. And Kennedy?"

Kennedy flinched. "Yes, sir?"

"The next time I find out an employee is acting as a conduit for an outside investor, I won’t be nearly as patient as I was tonight. Do I make myself clear?"

"Abundantly, sir," Kennedy whispered.

"Leave us," Jake commanded.

---

The room fell into silence. Elias remained at the door, a silent statue. Jake pulled out his phone. Alice hadn’t replied yet—likely sleeping or finally taking a breath after the storm.

’’I somewhat won tonight,’’ Jake thought, leaning back. ’I crippled Sterling’s cash flow and made him a joke. Though I didn’t deal with Alex, it wasn’t really in the plan for tonight.’

He navigated his contacts and called Catharine. She picked up on the third ring.

"Well, well," Catharine’s voice came through, light and teasing. "If you hadn’t called, I would’ve assumed some billionaire’s daughter had whisked you away to a private island."

Jake let out a short, tired breath that was almost a laugh. "Only you could tolerate me for that long, Catharine."

"I have a high threshold for trouble," she joked. "Is the auction finally over? I’ve been seeing snippets on the news feed. You’re famous, Jake."

"It’s over," he confirmed. "I’m heading out now. I’ll be at your apartment soon—I want to give you a goodnight kiss before I head home."

"Jake, it’s late," she said, though her voice softened. "You don’t have to drive all this way just for that."

"I wouldn’t be able to get any sleep if I didn’t," he replied firmly.

"Fine," she whispered. "I’ll leave the light on. But make sure not to wake the others."

Jake hung up and looked at Elias. "Tell the guys to get the cars. We’re going to Catharine’s apartment."

"Understood."

Jake stood up, the warm amber light of the gallery reflecting off the glass one last time. He had played the predator tonight, and he had won. But as he walked out of the building, his only thought wasn’t of the high-stakes he was moving or the empire he was building.

It was of Aliya. And the fear that even all this power wouldn’t be enough to fix what was broken.

---