Chapter 260: Arrogant Brat

Chapter 260: Chapter 260: Arrogant Brat

The private usher guided Jake’s party away from the general floor toward the grand staircase, leading them into VIP Box Six—an elevated booth wrapped in soundproof acoustic glass and lined with plush leather seating. Below, the main floor buzzed with discreet chatter, but behind the tinted glass, the entire bidding room laid out like a high-stakes chessboard.

Jake settled into the central armchair, unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket as Elias stepped up to hand over the digital bidding terminal. Beside him, Noah, Leon, Marcus, and Adrian took their seats, while Aliya and Fancy claimed the front chairs near the glass.

Fancy peered down, then turned her attention to the massive, ultra-high-definition micro-LED displays framing the main stage. Rotating 3D renders, chassis numbers, and historic documentation swept across the screens.

"Wait," Fancy whispered, leaning back toward Leon with a puzzled frown. "They aren’t bringing the actual cars onto the stage? Are you guys just buying cars off a screen?" She paused, her voice dropping into a tense whisper. "What if someone is pulling a scam? Buying a multi-million dollar car without even seeing it in person?"

Leon let out an amused chuckle, swirling his sparkling water. "Fancy, my dear, anyone foolish enough to pull a scam on the crowd sitting in this room wouldn’t make it off this ship alive. Every single car on tonight’s docket is locked in a climate-controlled security vault at a private airfield twenty minutes outside Geneva. Once the hammer drops and the wire clears, the keys and transport manifests are handed over directly."

"It’s about discretion," Noah added smoothly, checking his program. "You can’t exactly fit thirty hypercars on a mega-yacht without sinking the vibe."

Down on the stage, the house auctioneer stepped up to the mahogany podium. The room fell dead silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Grace Heritage Invitational," the auctioneer announced, his voice reverberating through the speakers. "Tonight, we present fifteen ultra-rare automotive masterworks. We begin with Lot 01: a pristine 1998 McLaren F1 LM-Specification, one of only two factory conversions in existence."

Before the auctioneer could finish detailing the gold-plated engine bay, a paddle went up near the front row.

"Twenty-two million dollars to the gentleman in row two," the auctioneer called out instantly.

The bid came from a young, heavily accessorized Middle Eastern heir draped in a custom silk designer suit, flanked by four bodyguards. He flicked his wrist without glancing at anyone, radiating pure arrogance.

Leon tapped his armrest control, entering an immediate response.

"Twenty-two million five hundred thousand from VIP Box Six," the auctioneer declared, raising his hands.

"Oh? You going in right off the bat?" Marcus chuckled, looking over at Leon. "I thought you’d sit back for a while."

"What can I say," Leon smirked, leaning back. "It’s a nice piece of art."

Down on the floor, the young heir’s jaw tightened slightly. He flicked his paddle again. "Twenty-four million."

"Twenty-four million five hundred thousand," Leon countered instantly, pressing the button on the panel.

A murmur rippled through the lower floor as the speed of the increments squeezed out two phone bidders. The auctioneer’s eyes darted across the hall as the tension mounted.

"Twenty-five million!" the heir cut in sharply, waving his paddle before the auctioneer could even call Leon’s bid.

Leon stared at the terminal screen, his thumb hovering over the raise button. He paused for three seconds, weighing the asset value against the ridiculous surge, then withdrew his hand with a click of his tongue.

"Yeah, I’m not competing with that," Leon muttered, shaking his head.

Within forty seconds, the heavy gavel came down with a sharp *clack*. "Sold for twenty-five million dollars!"

The stage displays shifted to Lot 02: a 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO in classic Rosso Corsa.

The bidding ignited at thirty million dollars. Private collectors and European tycoons exchanged calculated half-million increments, building a slow, electric tension across the floor. But the moment the price touched thirty-six million, the young heir raised his hand with an obnoxious flick of his wrist.

"Forty million," he announced loudly, cutting through the entire room.

The auctioneer blinked, startled by the massive four-million-dollar jump. The European tycoons exchanged glances of quiet disgust and lowered their paddles. The hammer dropped seconds later.

Next came Lot 03: a bare-carbon Bugatti Centodieci.

Noah perked up, eyeing the hypercar on the digital display. "Alright, my turn. I’ve wanted one of these since release."

The opening bid stood at eleven million dollars. Noah hit the digital control in the VIP box, taking it to twelve million.

A Japanese tech magnate on the floor countered at twelve point five. Noah immediately pushed it to thirteen point five million, leaning forward in his chair, his eyes fixed on the display.

Just as the auctioneer raised his gavel to call thirteen point five million, the Middle Eastern heir raised his paddle with a smirk. "Sixteen million."

Noah’s eyes widened in disbelief. He tapped his fingers furiously against the armrest, his mind racing through the numbers. ’Sixteen million for a Centodieci? That’s almost double market value. Is this kid insane?’

"Sixteen million going once... going twice..."

Noah slammed his hand against his thigh in frustration. "Forget it. I’m not paying a five-million-dollar stupidity tax just to beat a brat who doesn’t know the value of money."

"Sold for sixteen million dollars!"

Over the first three lots, the exact same pattern held. Every time a legitimate collector put up a calculated bid, the young heir slapped down a massive jump-bid, pricing out the room through raw, reckless spending.

Aliya, who was capturing the whole thing on her vlog camera, pouted at the lens. "Guys, this guy in the front row is literally ruining the fun. He’s buying everything! Like, leave something for the rest of the room!"

"He’s flexing," Noah grumbled, crossing his legs. "Showing off daddy’s money."

The auctioneer cleared his throat as the main displays shifted to deep blue, shimmering schematics and live video feeds from the airport vault.

"Moving to Lot 04," the auctioneer announced, his tone dropping into a reverent hush. "A true holy grail of modern coachbuilding. The 2021 Rolls-Royce Boat Tail—Chassis 01, a bespoke one-of-one masterpiece commissioned with hand-hammered aluminum bodywork, butterfly-gullwing rear suite, and custom Bovet timepieces embedded in the fascia."

The room stirred. A factory one-of-one built specifically for ultra-high-net-worth royalty was an entirely different tier of asset.

The starting price flashed on the screen: Twenty-Eight Million Dollars.

The Middle Eastern heir smirked, raising his paddle almost instantly. "Thirty million."

Silence settled over the main hall. The European aristocrats grumbled under their breath, hesitant to enter a messy bidding war over a vehicle hitting astronomical numbers.

"Thirty million dollars to the floor," the auctioneer announced, lifting his gavel. "Going once... going twice..."

In the VIP box, Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes fixed on the bespoke nautical lines of the blue Boat Tail on the screen. ’A coachbuilt one-of-one with verified provenance... perfect.’

"Elias," Jake said softly.

Elias immediately tapped the digital terminal mounted beside Jake’s chair.

Down on the stage, a crisp digital chime echoed through the house audio system as the VIP box’s primary LED indicator flashed green above the acoustic glass.

"Thirty-two million dollars from VIP Box Six!" the auctioneer called out, his voice spiking with energy.

A wave of hushed whispers broke out across the lower floor. Heads turned toward the elevated glass box, guests nudging each other and pointing.

The Middle Eastern heir stiffened, his head snapping around. He glared up at the glass, his jaw tightening as he raised his paddle again. "Thirty-three million!"

Jake didn’t blink. He didn’t even look down at the floor. He simply motioned with two fingers to Elias.

’Chime.’

"Thirty-five million dollars to VIP Box Six!"

Down in the audience, several older tycoons and collectors openly chuckled, enjoying the sight of the loud youngster finally hitting a brick wall. Subtle nods of approval were exchanged across the front rows as the crowd realized someone upstairs was putting a stop to the show.

The Middle Eastern heir’s face flushed red. He stared at his tablet, his fingers tapping furiously against the frame as his mind spiraled. ’Thirty-five million? If I push past forty, my father’s board will freeze my credit line before the final lot...’

After five grueling seconds of internal panic, he slowly lowered his paddle, folding his arms tightly and staring straight ahead. "This is not worth it," he muttered aloud for his entourage to hear.

"Thirty-five million dollars, going once... going twice... Sold to the gentleman in VIP Box Six!"

Down on the floor, the heir leaned over to mutter something defensive to his assistant, adjusting his suit jacket to look unbothered.

In the box, Leon leaned back and burst out laughing. "Look at him sitting there pretend-busy on his phone! He thought he owned the room until Jake put a hard stop on his allowance."

"He backed out real quick," Noah chuckled. "Guess he wasn’t about that life after all."

"At least he took you guys out," Adrian added flatly which made Marcus and Aliya chuckle.

"He didn’t," Leon immediately tried to defend himself. "I wasn’t prepared enough."

"Yeah right," Adrian said without even looking at Leon.

Fancy looked between Jake and the digital confirmation receipt glowing on Elias’s tablet, her hands clutching her purse as her eyes went wide.

"Thirty-five million... for a single car?" Fancy whispered, staring at Jake as if trying to process the number.

Jake casually adjusted his watch, looking back at the auction screen as the floor prepared for the next lot. "It’s not just a car. It’s a one-of-one. And we still have the main lot to deal with."

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