Chapter 7

Elena POV

The auction house felt less like a gallery and more like a cathedral of greed.

Crystal chandeliers cascaded from the vaulted ceiling, casting fractured light over a crowd that smelled of old money and quiet desperation.

I sat in the back row, my hands clenched tightly in my lap.

I hadn't come for the Renaissance oils. I hadn't come for the diamond chokers.

I was here for one thing only: Lot 42.

A crystal ball.

Not a mystical trinket found in a fortune teller's tent. It was a solid sphere of pure, flawless quartz.

Dante had commissioned it for me. He had claimed it represented clarity.

"The only thing in this world clear enough to match your mind," he had told me.

It had been looted from his apartment in the chaotic vacuum left by his death.

Now, it sat on a velvet pillow on the stage, mocking me.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Lot 42."

My heart squeezed painfully against my ribs.

"Starting bid at fifty thousand."

I raised my paddle. "One hundred thousand."

Heads turned. It was an aggressive jump.

"One hundred and fifty!"

The voice came from the front row.

I froze.

Luca sat there, looking like a king in a bespoke suit, radiating a dark gravitational pull. Next to him, Sofia was whispering in his ear, pointing at the stage.

She didn't want the crystal ball. She likely didn't even know what it was.

She just saw me bid on it.

"Two hundred thousand," I said, my voice betraying none of the tremors in my hands.

Sofia tugged on Luca's sleeve. He raised his paddle without looking back.

"Three hundred."

"Four hundred," I countered.

"Five hundred."

It was a game to them. A cruel, blood sport.

I mentally tallied my bank account on my phone. I had liquidated my personal assets, but I needed cash for the escape. I had a hard ceiling.

"One million," I said.

The collective gasp sucked the air out of the room.

Sofia turned around in her seat. Her eyes met mine, glittering with malice. She said something to Luca.

Luca turned. His eyes were voids-cold and empty.

He didn't see a grieving widow. He saw an opponent to be crushed.

He raised his hand.

"Two million."

The floor dropped out from under me. That was my limit. If I went higher, I couldn't pay the pilot. I couldn't pay for the safe house.

I stared at him, begging silently. Please. It's all I have left of him.

He saw the desperation.

And he mistook it for weakness.

"Three million," Luca drawled. "And the lady in red wants it wrapped immediately."

The gavel banged down.

"Sold to Mr. Falcone for three million dollars."

To my ears, the sound of the gavel was like a bone snapping.

I sat there as the room erupted in polite applause.

I watched the staff package the crystal ball. I watched them hand the velvet box to Luca.

I watched Luca hand it to Sofia.

She held it up to the light, laughing. She tapped her long, acrylic nails against the flawless surface.

It wasn't just a purchase.

It was an erasure.

He had taken the symbol of his brother's love and gifted it to the woman who was helping him dismantle his brother's legacy.

I stood up. My legs felt like lead.

I walked out of the auction hall, the applause ringing in my ears like a funeral dirge.