Chapter 4

Ethan left Aspen with a sling on his arm and a stone in his heart.

Izzy' s betrayal, her calculated malice, had extinguished any lingering doubt, any flicker of his former infatuation.

He avoided her pointedly.

When she approached him at the office the following week, her face etched with false concern, asking about his shoulder, he cut her off.

"I' m fine, Isabelle. Don' t trouble yourself." His tone was ice.

He turned and walked away, leaving her standing there.

He sought out Sophia Davenport.

She' d been a quiet observer in Aspen, her presence a small comfort he hadn' t fully appreciated until now.

He found her at a tech conference they were both attending.

"Sophia," he said, "I need a friend."

She smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached her eyes. "You look like you could use one. And maybe a drink."

They found a quiet corner in the hotel bar.

Sophia didn' t press him for details about Aspen, just listened as he talked vaguely about company politics and difficult colleagues.

She tried to cheer him up, telling him a funny story about a disastrous product launch at her father' s company.

"So, to make up for boring you with work talk," she said, her eyes sparkling, "dinner is on me. Best steakhouse in the city. My treat."

Ethan, jaded and cynical, almost scoffed. "Easy for you to say. Your father' s company probably picks up the tab."

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. It was unfair to Sophia.

She just raised an eyebrow, unfazed.

"Actually, Ethan," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice, "I have my own trust fund. And I made a killing on some tech stocks last year. I can afford to buy you a steak. Or the whole cow, if you' re that hungry."

Her confidence, her easygoing manner, was a breath of fresh air.

Ethan found himself smiling, a genuine smile, for the first time in days.

"A steak sounds good," he said. "But I' m paying. Consider it a thank you for putting up with my mood."

"Deal," Sophia said. "But you' re definitely getting the wine. Your family has the better cellar."

They made plans for dinner the following night.

He also needed to prepare for the upcoming Sotheby's auction.

A rare piece of generative art, an NFT created by a reclusive digital artist, was on the block. Ethan had his eye on it.

He knew Leo Hayes would be there. Leo, with his artistic pretensions, fancied himself a collector, funded, of course, by Izzy and the other Vanguard women' s stipends.

Ethan suspected Leo would make a play for the NFT, probably egged on by Izzy, just to needle him.

The auction night arrived. The room buzzed with wealthy collectors and art aficionados.

Ethan, with Sophia by his side, spotted Izzy and Leo across the room.

Izzy looked stunning in a sleek black dress, Leo a carefully cultivated image of bohemian chic beside her.

The NFT came up for bidding.

Ethan made an opening bid.

As he predicted, Leo, after a dramatic pause and a glance at Izzy, raised his paddle.

He made a show of it, looking around the room as if to gauge the competition, a smug little smile on his face.

Izzy watched Ethan, her expression cool, challenging.

Ethan, determined not to be played, raised his bid.

Leo countered.

Back and forth it went. The price climbed steadily.

Other bidders dropped out, leaving Ethan and Leo.

Or rather, Ethan and Izzy, who was clearly directing Leo' s bids with subtle nods.

Leo, feigning generosity, suddenly lowered his paddle.

"You know what, Ethan?" Leo called out, his voice carrying across the hushed room. "You seem to want it so much. I' ll let you have it. Consider it a gift."

He then looked at Izzy with a martyred expression, as if he were making a great sacrifice.

Izzy smiled approvingly at Leo, then gave Ethan a look that was both triumphant and pitying.

The implication was clear: I can make him give up anything for me. You can only buy things.

The crowd murmured. Ethan felt a flush of anger.

He was being publicly played, made to look like a rich bully outbidding a poor, sensitive artist.

Izzy then did something unexpected.

She raised her own paddle.

"Actually," she said, her voice clear and cutting, "Leo deserves this. He has a true appreciation for art. Unlike some people who just collect for status."

She made a bid significantly higher than Ethan' s last one.

She was openly challenging him, supporting Leo, and insulting Ethan in one fell swoop.

The room buzzed with gossip. People were looking at him, whispering.

He was being humiliated.

His father' s name, his family' s reputation, being dragged through this petty drama.

Fueled by a surge of anger and a desperate need to assert his dominance, to wipe that smug look off Izzy' s face, Ethan made an outrageously high bid. The equivalent of the Chinese "lighting the sky lantern" – a bid so high it was meant to crush all competition, a display of pure financial power.

The auctioneer, momentarily stunned, called out the bid.

The room fell silent.

Izzy' s smile faltered for a second. Leo looked uneasy.

"Sold!" the auctioneer finally declared, banging the gavel. "To Mr. Ethan Vanderbilt!"