Chapter 287: Do You Want To Meet My Bother?

Chapter 287: Chapter 287: Do You Want To Meet My Bother?

The moment the name Jake Rivers left Alan’s lips, Luke’s polite, calm expression evaporated. His eyes widened into dinner plates, his jaw dropped, and he completely ignored Alan, spinning sharply on his heel to face Aliya directly.

"Wait... Jake Rivers’ sister?!" Luke blurted out, his voice cracking with sheer, unadulterated disbelief and sudden, frantic excitement as he practically dove toward Aliya’s side of the table.

Aliya blinked, genuinely taken aback by the sudden, explosive burst of enthusiasm from a complete stranger.

"Uh... yes?" Aliya replied, raising an eyebrow.

Luke clasped his hands together, his face flushing with desperate hope. "Are you serious?! Oh, thank god! Listen, I know this is completely out of line, I just met you, but I am begging you—do you think there is any possible way you could get me VIP access into the Meridian Gallery auction happening right now?"

The entire table stared at Luke as if he had lost his mind.

"An auction?" Aliya repeated, looking utterly bewildered. "Why are you asking me about an auction?"

"Because I’ve been trying to secure a ticket for the past forty-eight hours!" Luke groaned, running a hand through his hair in absolute distress. "My family’s private concierge couldn’t get me in on such short notice because the tickets were sold out and the guest list was locked down tight by the Gallery. And since I only just arrived in the city, I’m completely locked out!"

Aliya offered a soft, apologetic smile, shaking her head. "I’m sorry, Luke, but there’s really nothing I can do. The auction has already started, and the security protocols for the private boxes are locked down by my brother’s team."

Luke slumped back, letting out a long, heavy, agonizing sigh of pure defeat as his shoulders dropped. He sank heavily into the empty chair next to Brandon, looking like a man who had just lost his last lottery ticket.

Across the table, Liv stared at Luke with absolute, frozen bewilderment. Her brain was completely short-circuiting. Luke Barnett—an heir to international fortune, a man flying in from elite circles abroad—is literally standing here, practically begging Aliya Rivers for a favor?!

Alan sat paralyzed, his face burning with a mortifying, crushing heat. He had invited Luke specifically to use his background as a shield and a status symbol to humble Aliya. Instead, his trump card had instantly turned into a fanboy, bowing down to the very girl Alan had spent the entire evening trying to crush. The poetic irony of it was so vicious it felt like a physical blow.

Phoebe frowned, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. "Wait... Luke, why are you so desperate to get into this specific auction anyway? It’s just art and luxury collectibles, right?"

Luke shook his head solemnly, resting his elbows on the obsidian table. "It’s not just a collection, Phoebe. A lost family heirloom of ours—a centuries-old pocket watch commissioned by my great-grandfather—is listed as one of the anchor pieces in the private catalog tonight. My grandfather’s eightieth birthday is next week, and I promised myself I would fly it back across the world to gift it to him. If I miss it tonight, it’s gone to a private collector forever."

Hearing the story, a flicker of genuine empathy crossed Aliya’s expressive eyes. She looked at Luke, then glanced down at her watch.

"Well..." Aliya murmured thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against the table. "My brother and Catharine are in Box 1 right now. If it’s a family heirloom, there might be a way to get you in through his clearance."

Luke’s head snapped up, his eyes shining with sudden, desperate hope. "Really?! You can do that?!"

"I can," Aliya nodded slowly, though a playful, mischievous glint danced in her dark eyes. "Of course, you’d have to owe me a massive favor. Because pulling my brother away from his private date night just to sneak someone into an auction... well, let’s just say we’ll be interrupting them."

"I’ll owe you anything! Name your price, Aliya! My soul, my car, my future services—anything!" Luke stammered profusely, pressing his palms together in deep gratitude.

Aliya unlocked her phone, dialed Jake’s direct line, tapped the speakerphone icon, and set the device face-up right in the middle of the obsidian table, deliberately locking her gaze onto Liv’s terrified face as the call connected.

"Jake," Aliya said smoothly into the mic. "Can I swing by Box 1 at the Meridian Gallery with a friend or two?"

Over the high-end speaker, Jake’s calm, measured voice filled the silent booth instantly. "Do whatever you want, Aliya. Just don’t break anything."

Aliya smirked, tapping the end call button. "See? Sorted."

Aliya stood up gracefully from her seat, smoothing down the emerald silk of her dress. She turned to Fancy with a bright, conspiratorial grin. "Come on, Fancy. Let’s go crash an auction."

Fancy stood up immediately, grabbing her designer clutch with an excited laugh. "Oh, yeah. We were planning to go there anyway."

Before stepping away from the booth, Aliya turned her gaze to Luke and gestured toward the exit. "Come on, then. We should probably leave right now if we want to make it before the final lot opens."

Luke scrambled out of his chair, bowing his head repeatedly. "Thank you! Thank you so much, Aliya! And honestly..." He paused, turning his head back toward Alan with a deeply awkward, apologetic grimace. "...thanks, Alan, I guess, for bringing me to this dinner, otherwise I never would have run into her."

Alan squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the floor would simply open up and drop him into a bottomless abyss. He couldn’t even muster the strength to nod.

As Aliya turned to walk away, her eyes landed on Brandon, who was quietly gathering his jacket from the back of his chair.

"Hey, Brandon," Aliya called out softly, offering a warm, inviting smile. "Would you like to come meet my brother?"

Brandon’s face lit up instantly. Meeting Jake Rivers—the undisputed financial emperor of Veyra—was an opportunity most people couldn’t even dream of in a lifetime.

"Are you kidding? I’d love to," Brandon grinned without a second thought, falling right into step beside her.

Before walking away, Aliya paused, turning back with a polite, mocking smile. "Oh, by the way, don’t worry about the bill for tonight. Management already took care of it, so feel free to eat and drink to your heart’s content."

Yet, despite the offer, absolute dread seized the table. Not a single person dared to touch a glass or a plate, paralyzed by the terrifying thought that running up a massive bill under Jake Rivers’ nose would result in him hunting them down for financial compensation.

Alan sat frozen in his seat, his hands gripped so tightly into the leather cushion that his knuckles turned stark white. He wanted to go with them so badly. He wanted to crawl on his knees behind Aliya just for a chance to stand in the same room as Jake Rivers and beg for forgiveness. But his legs felt like lead, and his pride—shattered, pulverized, and buried six feet under—completely paralyzed him. He didn’t even have the courage to ask.

As Aliya, Fancy, Luke, and Brandon walked down the pavilion stairs and disappeared toward the exit, the heavy, suffocating silence of Booth Four finally broke.

"Are you completely insane, Liv?!" Mavis snapped, her voice cracking with hysterical fury as she whirled around to glare at Liv and Natasha. "If you two morons hadn’t spent the entire night insulting Aliya and treating her like trash, we could have been invited along! We could have met Jake Rivers! Do you have any idea what kind of door that would have opened for us?!"

"Shut up, Mavis!" Natasha shrieked, tears streaming down her face as she buried her head in his hands. "How was I supposed to know she was his sister?! You were laughing right along with us!"

"Guys, stop it, please!" Phoebe interjected sharply, holding her hands up to defuse the escalating screaming match. "Screaming at each other isn’t going to change anything. We’ve already messed this up completely."

"At least Alan brought us here, but you..." Liv muttered, her voice trembling in a mix of pure terror and blinding regret as she stared blankly at her empty champagne glass.

The realization hit them like a tidal wave. Aliya Rivers hadn’t just walked into the room and proven them wrong; she had effortlessly walked out carrying the golden key to Aurelia’s highest society—leaving them behind in the wreckage of their own manufactured delusions.

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Outside the building, Aliya and Fancy waited for the McLaren P1 to be brought around. Kovacs and Sarah stood nearby securing the area. Luke was riding with Brandon and they agreed to meet at the Gallery.

"I swear, watching Liv’s face drain of color when the floor manager dropped your brother’s name was better than any movie," Fancy chuckled lightly, shaking her head.

"She brought it entirely on herself," Aliya replied, her dark eyes flashing with a touch of dry amusement.

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