What would happen if Amy Sinclair refused to pay?

The entire room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the next act of this unfolding drama.

Even Victoria Langley watched Amy with bated breath, clinging to a fragile hope.

If Amy couldn’t produce the funds, Poseidon’s Lament would still be hers.

But Amy shattered those hopes without hesitation.

In one smooth motion, she pulled out her black card and handed it over.

A single, decisive beep—payment approved.

Silence.

She had just dropped forty million dollars without so much as a flinch.

Moments ago, many had dismissed her as reckless, foolish.

Now, they had no choice but to acknowledge one undeniable truth—this woman had power.

The auction continued, presenting a few more exquisite pieces.

Amy placed bids on two additional items.

Each time her paddle lifted, the room fell silent. No one dared challenge her.

She secured both for less than their starting prices.

Nathan Prescott didn’t dare test her again.

He had already blown through his budget. One more misstep, and not even Alexander Blackwood could save him.

Satisfied, Amy decided to step back and let others have their turn.

Alexander and Nathan seemed to realize the same—with Amy deliberately targeting them, they either lost or got played. So they, too, withdrew.

When the auction ended, Samantha Reynolds still felt like she was floating.

"Celeste, you actually went toe-to-toe with Alexander. Aren’t you worried he’ll retaliate?"

Her eyes dropped to Poseidon’s Lament resting against Amy’s collarbone, and she let out an impressed whistle.

"But damn… that necklace is stunning."

Amy’s lips curved slightly. "If I don’t stand my ground now, they’ll keep pushing. Better to fight back than let them walk all over me."

Samantha groaned. "Yeah, but spending that much just to make a point… hurts just thinking about it."

Ten million could’ve set them up for life.

"But still…" Samantha’s voice sharpened. "After what those bastards Alexander and Nathan pulled—kicking us out of the hotel—they deserved a taste of their own medicine."

Sebastian Kingsley arched a brow. "Wait, you two got evicted?"

Samantha nodded. "Yep. Last night was a nightmare. We ended up sleeping in my beat-up car. If we’d tried another hotel, they probably would’ve had us thrown out there, too."

Sebastian hadn’t known both Amy’s and Samantha’s homes had been locked down.

After hearing the story, he chuckled.

"That’s an easy fix. I have plenty of properties—consider one yours for now. Think of it as employee housing, free of charge."

Samantha started, "Thank you, Mr. Kingsley, but there’s no need—I was planning to look for an apartment tomorrow—"

Before she could finish, Amy cut in.

"Thank you, Mr. Kingsley. We’ll take it."

Samantha shot her a startled look.

They had more than enough to buy their own place—why stay in one of Sebastian’s?

Then it clicked.

If it pissed off Alexander? Even better.

Let him see that Celeste wasn’t some discarded wife with no allies.

Sebastian casually gathered Amy’s auction winnings and smirked.

"I suppose if Mr. Whitmore finds out Nathan wasted all that money on worthless trinkets, he’ll be thrilled."

Amy didn’t deny it—Sebastian had figured out her game.

Her gaze flicked to Nathan, storming out of the auction hall with fury etched into every line of his body.

"If he won’t compensate Mr. Whitmore, then let him lose money elsewhere. Sooner or later, everyone pays for their choices."

Samantha couldn’t help but admire her audacity.

Dropping millions just to help Mr. Whitmore get revenge? That took guts.

"That witch set me up!"

Nathan’s face was thunderous as he glared at the overpriced painting in his hands, itching to tear it to shreds.

But destroying it would only make explaining this to his father worse.