The tension in the hall had reached a boiling point.
Everyone present could see the sheer display of wealth from the Monrrow family—and they were stunned.
What shocked them even more was that none of the money being thrown around belonged to their father. It was all self-earned. Every bid came from their own pockets.
Katherine sat composed beneath the VIP box. Her sleek black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her face remained calm—elegantly enhanced by glossy red lipstick. Hers was a quiet beauty: not exaggerated, yet impossible to ignore. She fit in effortlessly, no matter the setting.
Her hands rested gracefully over one another on her crossed leg.
Nate stared at her, teeth grinding in frustration.
"Fifty million," he called out.
The crowd gasped—again.
He had just doubled the previous bid.
"What the hell is going on? Is this a fight or something?" people whispered across the room.
It clearly was. A sibling standoff.
