The One He Dismissed Became The One He Died For novel Chapter 158

The crowd looked at Claire, their eyes suddenly filled with a newfound layer of deep respect.

A few feet away, Yvonne's polite smile completely collapsed. She clenched her jaw, her chest burning with a toxic mixture of rage and jealousy.

Was Mr. Whittaker blind? The Zimmerman family was financing his project, and she was the Zimmerman heiress! Why was he brushing her off just to kiss up to Claire Jenner?

Yvonne couldn't comprehend it, but she was trapped; she couldn't afford to throw a tantrum in public.

Mr. Whittaker's gaze casually drifted toward Julian standing next to Claire.

"If my memory serves me right, this is the design director for Yosemite Studios. Young and brilliant, truly young and brilliant..."

He nodded with a polite smile. "Are you and Ms. Jenner acquainted?"

Julian nodded. "Yes, Mr. Whittaker. Claire and I went to the same university."

"I see." Mr. Whittaker was a shrewd man. He inconspicuously flicked his eyes toward the second floor and lowered his voice.

"Miles is waiting in the VIP room upstairs, you know. He's probably hoping to bid on something for you."

Claire forced a smile and quickly took the out. "Right, I should go up and say hello..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Julian stepped forward, acting as though he hadn't heard a word she just said.

"Claire, the auction is about to begin. My mother's birthday is coming up, and I really want to find a gift for her. Could you help me pick something out?"

Claire hesitated.

Julian lowered his voice persuasively. "Please, Claire? Back in college, she was always raving about your incredible taste. If she knows you helped pick it out, she'll be absolutely thrilled."

When Yosemite Studios was first getting off the ground, Julian's family lived right next to their university. Martha Young had been unbelievably welcoming, and they used to crash at her place for dinner all the time.

Finding it impossible to turn him down, Claire finally nodded. "Alright."

"Mr. Whittaker, as soon as this is over, I'll head straight upstairs. Could you please let him know?"

With that, Julian guided Claire away, leading her toward the seats in the very front row.

Inside the second-floor VIP room.

Miles sat in a heavy mahogany armchair, a cup of stone-cold tea resting on the table in front of him. His piercing gaze shot through the bamboo blinds, fixated on the graceful, captivating figure seated in the main hall.

And on the sickeningly obtrusive hand of the man leading her around.

"Who has that kind of pull? Is it someone even more powerful than the Zimmerman heiress?"

Listening to the gossip swirling around her, Claire's spine subconsciously stiffened.

She could physically feel the scorching intensity of the gaze bearing down on her from the second floor. It felt like it was burning a hole straight through her back.

She snuck a furtive glance upwards. The bamboo blinds were half-drawn, leaving the room shrouded in dim shadows, making it impossible to see the man inside.

She took a quiet breath and pulled her eyes away. She felt guilty, and every second was becoming increasingly agonizing.

"Claire, what do you think of this piece? Do you think my mother would like it?" Julian leaned in close, turning his head so his warm breath brushed against the shell of her ear.

Claire shifted slightly in her seat, subtly creating an inch of distance between them.

"Martha wouldn't really go for this style."

"Alright, let's keep looking then. Thanks for doing this, Claire."

The auction continued, the bidding growing fiercely competitive.

Suddenly, Julian whispered, "Claire, I think I got something in my eye."