Watching You Burn In Regret novel Chapter 76

Honestly, Old Mr. Rutledge and Nadine always take Seren's side—so what's the big deal if he shows a little favoritism toward Carla for once?

And really, it's not as though he's being unfair. Carla is sweet and thoughtful—she deserves a bit of special treatment.

Swain shot a cool glance at Slater. Carla's voice had been too soft for him to hear, but every word out of Slater's mouth landed with perfect clarity.

Lately, Swain couldn't help noticing just how deeply Slater resented Seren. The way the two of them interacted, you'd think they were lifelong enemies rather than siblings.

Whenever Seren was involved, Slater would lose all sense—he'd become petty, mean, and reckless in both word and deed.

But come on—Old Mr. Rutledge, Susan, Nadine—none of them are outsiders. And Seren? She'd never tried to curry favor with anyone. If anything, she'd always treated everyone the same, maybe even leaning on Swain and the others a little more than most.

Accusing her of betrayal was simply absurd.

Still, Swain kept his thoughts to himself. Prejudice like Slater's couldn't be undone with a few well-chosen words.

He just had to set the example, as the eldest—if he did the right thing, maybe Slater would eventually come around.

He looked away, his attention shifting to the auctioneer.

Swain focused entirely on the bidding for "The Shadowed Oak." He was determined to win it as an apology for Seren. Failure wasn't an option.

*

The bidding continued to escalate.

"Fourteen million."

"Fifty million."

"Eighty million."

The room buzzed with excitement as the numbers soared, the crowd raising their paddles with increasing fervor.

Most of the society elites in attendance tonight had come precisely for Elder Fairchild's "The Shadowed Oak."

As Swain listened to the mounting bids, he hesitated longer and longer before each of his own offers.

In the end, he had to bow out. Thirteen million was the absolute limit he could accept.

He hadn't expected a single sheet of paper—however old or famous—to attract such fierce competition, to be coveted like a priceless treasure, with the price climbing ever higher.

Honestly, if he had that kind of money to spend, he'd rather buy Seren a set of jewelry—at least that would hold its value.

Nadine noticed Swain's repeated reluctance to bid, and scoffed, raising her own paddle nonchalantly.

Lennon turned and murmured a few words to the bidding assistant at his side.

A moment later, the assistant raised the paddle: "Mr. Crestwell bids three hundred million."

Seren snapped out of her daze. She understood now—Lennon's "birthday present" was none other than Elder Fairchild's "The Shadowed Oak."

Her eyes stung. "How did you know when my birthday was?"

Lennon smiled softly.

"I found out when I was talking with Old Mr. Rutledge. He told me about it, and said tonight would be the perfect occasion—to win Elder Fairchild's painting for you."

Seren was quiet for a long moment, then shook her head, her voice low. "You really didn't have to. It's too much."

"If it's for Mrs. Crestwell, nothing is too much," Lennon replied, his gaze steady and sincere. "Besides, the money I make—it's always meant to be spent on you."

A tide of emotion surged through Seren, leaving her breathless. "Thank you, Mr. Crestwell."

"Wait." Lennon watched her intently, eyes bright with anticipation, as if waiting for a prize.

"Mrs. Crestwell, I think I deserve a reward."