Chapter 350

The live stream viewership had skyrocketed past fifteen thousand, with comments flooding in at lightning speed. Some cheered for Sebastian Whitmore's fiancée, while others mocked the mysterious occupants of the No. 2 private room.

Before the auctioneer could declare the harp sold to the No. 1 private room, a new bid flashed across the display.

Evelyn Hartley sighed dramatically, swirling her champagne flute. "Another bid? Probably just pocket change to irritate me."

Her words barely left her lips when the auctioneer's voice boomed through the grand hall. "No. 2 private room counters with twenty million dollars!"

Evelyn's perfectly manicured nails dug into her palms. Olivia Sinclair's eyebrows shot up as she turned to Liam Blackwood in disbelief. Yet the masked man remained utterly unfazed, as if discussing the weather rather than spending a fortune.

"Mr. Blackwood..." Olivia hesitated before voicing her confusion. "May I ask why you're bidding?"

Liam leaned back in his plush chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Though his expression remained hidden behind the silver mask, amusement colored his tone.

"Isn't it obvious? When I want something, I acquire it. The No. 1 room's petty two-hundred-thousand increments bored me to tears."

Olivia's lips parted, then closed. She forced a polite smile. "I merely thought the harp hardly warrants such extravagance."

Despite its historical significance, the instrument showed obvious restoration marks that diminished its value. Liam merely shrugged. "Market value means nothing. Only my personal valuation matters."

True to form, the No. 1 private room fired back with another bid.

Without missing a beat, Liam gestured lazily. "Thirty million."

When the next counteroffer came, he didn't hesitate. "Forty million."

Olivia sipped her tea, watching the spectacle unfold with detached interest. It wasn't her fortune being spent, after all. Her gaze kept drifting to Liam's profile, wondering if he truly was who she suspected. If so, how had he amassed such wealth? To him, millions flowed like water from a faucet.

In the No. 1 private room, Evelyn's face burned crimson with rage while cold sweat soaked through her designer gown. "Absolute lunatic!" she hissed between clenched teeth. Forty million for a restored harp? This had to be some elaborate joke.

Fear of financial ruin finally outweighed her pride. Even adding her usual hundred-thousand increment seemed ludicrous against such astronomical figures. The harp simply wasn't worth it.

With bitter reluctance, Evelyn withdrew from the bidding, convinced Olivia had orchestrated this humiliation. "That scheming witch!" she spat, hurling her crystal glass against the wall where it shattered like her composure.

Her butler swiftly angled the camera away, shielding the live stream audience from witnessing her meltdown.

An idea suddenly struck the butler as he stroked his chin. "Miss Hartley, that woman couldn't possibly afford such sums. Perhaps her funds come from... questionable sources?"

Evelyn caught his meaning instantly. Tears welled in her eyes as she turned her flawless face toward the live stream camera. "You think Sebastian finances her? Impossible! He's always been devoted to me. No matter how many women throw themselves at him, he remains a man of honor."