The Real Heiress Is Coming Back (Hannah Carter) novel Chapter 65

Chapter 65

“The Obsidian Pearl,” the auctioneer’s voice cut through the anticipation, “mined from the deepest abyssal veins. Historical records document its properties as a talisman against malevolent forces and a panacea for countless ailments when used medicinally.

“We begin the bidding at 17 million, with minimum increments of 300 thousand.”

The hall stirred as bids flashed across the display. “Bidder 111: 17.3 million.”

“102: 17.9 million.”

“203: 20 million.”

“132: 21 million.”

“501: 25 million.”

“306: 26 million.”

“402: 28 million.”

Gloved fingers danced across bidding panels as the two auction coordinators called out the rising figures in alternating voices. The digital counter climbed with relentless precision.

“Hannah.” Candy extended the bidding device. “Your turn.”

Setting aside her completed puzzle game, Hannah accepted the panel with deliberate calm.

“406: 30 million.”

“501: 30.3 million.”

“502: 33 million.”

“666: 50 million.”

“622: 50.3 million.”

“688: 50.7 million.”

“666: 51.6 million.”

“611: 52 million.”

“688: 52.3 million.”

“666: 53 million.”

A collective inhale swept through the auction hall. Beyond the fifty-million threshold, the field narrowed

considerably, the remaining bids advancing in cautious, measured steps.

Only four bidders remained in contention: 611, 622, 666, and 688, their battle stretching across thirty tense minutes.

“611: 66.3 million.”

In booth 666, Iris’ finger hovered over the bidding panel, poised to enter 70 million. Thirty minutes of relentless incremental bidding had left her hand stiff and aching.

This decisive jump would end the tedious back-and-forth.

“Iris.” An aged hand settled over hers, stilling the movement.

She looked up into her grandmother’s steady gaze. “Grandma?”

“Let me handle this.” Esther took the device with practiced grace, her fingers moving with ceremonial precision. “The Obsidian Pearl will be ours tonight.”

Before Iris could process the amount, the auctioneer’s voice cut through the tension. “Bidder 666: 83 million!”

A collective gasp rippled through the hall. This wasn’t merely a bid. It was a declaration of intent. The staggering seventeen-million leap demonstrated resolve that bordered on obsession.

At this price, even the Master would need to reconsider. Spending such a fortune on medicinal ingredients seemed almost reckless.

“Eighty-three million… once.” The auctioneer’s voice deepened the silence.

The auctioneer’s voice hung in the hushed atmosphere. A collective breath was held, the air thick with anticipation as the audience awaited the final hammer fall that would seal this historic price.

With theatrical timing, the auctioneer drew a slow breath, his eyes flicking toward the coordinator before continuing, “Eighty-three million. Twice…”

Iris froze, her own breath suspended. If the Master didn’t raise his paddle, the Obsidian Pearl would be theirs.

“Eighty-three million…”

“One hundred thirty million from bidder 508.” The coordinator’s clear announcement cut through the room.

A startled silence, profound and electric, gripped the hall for a heartbeat before dissolving into a wave of astonished whispers.

The staggering jump of 50 million transcended mere bidding. It was a power play, an unmistakable declaration of intent that silenced all competition.

Everyone strained to catch a glimpse of Booth 508, curious about the audacious bidder who had just shattered the auction’s tension.

“You can’t be serious.” Iris was on her feet in an instant.

A single raise that massive could only mean one of two things. Either someone was driving up the price out of pure malice, or this was a blatant challenge to the Thole family’s authority.

Her eyes scanned the designated booth, where a figure clad in a vibrant crimson cloak sat perfectly composed, an ornate gold mask obscuring their features.

“Grandma,” Iris turned, her voice tight with frustration, “do we counter?”

The prize she had considered all but won was slipping through her fingers, and the bitterness of it clung to her like a shroud.

Esther had noticed the figure in red earlier, but with both Bidders 508 and 509 dressed identically, she hadn’t been sure which one was the Nameless Healer until this moment.

Setting aside the pricing device, she said, “Let’s go introduce ourselves.”

Though clearly reluctant, Iris recognized the necessity. With a quiet acknowledgment, she turned and left.

*****

Meanwhile, on the seventh level, Barnaby had just picked up his bidding paddle when the coordinator’s updated announcement gave him pause.

Rising abruptly, he stepped out of his booth and looked down at Bidder 508.

The figure stood wrapped in a crimson cloak, face obscured by a golden mask, even more thoroughly concealed than he was.

A faint smile touched his lips. ‘Now this is interesting,’ he thought.

At that very moment, Hannah also rose and stepped out of her viewing booth, her eyes instinctively drawn to

the seventh level.

Their gazes locked, and in that instant, the cacophony of the arena seemed to fade into silence. It was as if only the two of them remained, their distinct auras circling and testing one another like invisible forces gathering strength.

“Does anyone wish to place another bid?” Hannah was the first to break the connection, her voice carrying clearly as she scanned the crowd.

Though physically positioned on the fifth level, she carried herself with the authority of one standing at the very pinnacle of power.

The bustling arena fell into a hushed anticipation, all attention shifting to the sixth level where the great families were seated.

Everyone knew that if they even declined to bid, only the Master of the Scepter House on the highest level remained.

After a full minute of silence, Hannah spoke again, her focus returning to the seventh level. “Since there are no further bids, it appears this contest is now between the two of us.”

A wave of murmurs swept through the crowd. “Who is she to challenge the Master so openly?”

“She’ll be thrown out for this.”

“They say she’s the Nameless Healer.”

“But the real Nameless Healer is known for discretion and secrecy. This boldness makes me question her authenticity.”

“Bidder 509 seems more like the genuine article to me.”

“Whether she’s the real healer or not, anyone who dares publicly challenge the Master’s authority will find themselves removed from these premises soon enough.”

The arena, once gripped by silence, now buzzed with unrest at Hannah’s audacious move.

Never before had anyone dared to challenge the Master of the Scepter House in his own domain, a place where even the four great families knew to tread carefully.

“Miss, I must remind you to abide by the rules of this establishment,” the host announced through the microphone, his voice strained but polite.

It was well known that the Master retained the right to double any bid to secure his desired item.

“Double it?” Hannah countered with a dismissive chuckle. “Go ahead. 0.2 billion, 0.4, 0.8, 1.6… Why stop there? It’s just money. Can any of us truly claim to lack it?”

The host stiffened, biting back his irritation. The arrogance of the wealthy, he thought.

Yet outwardly, he maintained composure. “We do not condone bidding with ill intent.”

“Then let me propose an alternative,” Hannah replied without missing a beat. “To prevent this from becoming a petty bidding war, why doesn’t the Master settle this with a game? The winner takes the Obsidian Pearl.”

Her eyes lifted again to the seventh level, unwavering and deliberate, gleaming with defiance.

Her posture left no room for doubt. Should he refuse, she was prepared to escalate the bidding without restraint.

Barnaby observed her from above, his gaze cool and assessing. There was a fierce, unyielding quality to her that felt hauntingly familiar, reminiscent of Hannah herself.

Yet according to their earlier messages, Hannah was presently at Scott Villa, indulging in a bath.

With a subtle tilt of his head, he signaled to the guard beside him. The man acknowledged the silent command immediately and departed, making his way directly to Booth 508, where he knocked.