Chapter 4

"Lot 32, a delightful Impressionist sketch, provenance impeccable," the auctioneer' s voice boomed.

Ethan raised his paddle. A modest opening bid.

"One hundred thousand," Izzy' s clear voice cut through the room, instantly doubling his bid without even looking at the piece.

The auctioneer, recognizing a battle, perked up. "One hundred thousand from Madam Thorne!"

Ethan hesitated. His funds were a shallow pool.

He lowered his paddle.

The sketch went to Izzy.

The pattern repeated. A minor Dutch still life. A promising modern sculpture.

Each time Ethan showed interest, Izzy' s paddle would shoot up, her bids extravagant, disdainful.

Leo stood beside her, occasionally murmuring, a puppeteer pleased with his marionette.

The crowd watched, a mix of pity and amusement on their faces. Ethan Cole, the Midas Touch, now a pauper begging for scraps.

After the fourth piece was snatched away, Izzy approached him again during a brief lull.

"Enjoying the show, Ethan?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Why are you doing this, Izzy?" he asked, his voice low.

She laughed, a harsh, brittle sound.

"Payback, darling. For all those years I had to endure your 'artistic temperament,' your 'uncompromising integrity.' For making me feel small."

Her eyes were hard, unforgiving.

"And for the little matter of my portfolio. You see, after your Seraphini disaster, I had my people look into your finances, your little investments. It was surprisingly easy to... adjust things. Ensure you wouldn't be a threat."

The cold realization hit him. She had orchestrated his financial ruin. It wasn't just bad luck or market downturns. It was her.

"You... you bankrupted me?"

"Not entirely," she said with a careless shrug. "Just brought you down to a level where you couldn't cause any more embarrassment. For me, or for Leo."

Leo smirked. The core betrayal, stark and ugly, lay bare between them.

The auctioneer announced the next set of lots. Ethan felt numb.

He tried to bid on a small, unassuming piece, something he thought might slip under her radar.

His account with the auction house flashed red. "Insufficient funds."

Izzy' s work, no doubt. She' d made sure he was truly crippled.

An official approached him discreetly. "Mr. Cole, there seems to be an issue with your credit line."

He was about to be barred, publicly shamed out of the auction.

Desperation clawed at him. His father' s life...

He reached into his worn jacket pocket, his fingers closing around the only thing of value he had left.

His grandfather' s antique watch. A Patek Philippe, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, passed down through generations.

His last link to a legacy of honor and skill.

He placed it on the official' s table.

"This is my collateral," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "It's worth ten times what I need."

The official examined it, his eyes widening slightly. He nodded.

Ethan was back in the game, but at what cost? His dignity, his family's heritage, laid bare on the altar of Izzy' s revenge.