?Chapter 823:


    “You mean the treasure map?” Corrine gave him a look of mild amusement. The idea that Nate of all people would be intrigued by such a ridiculous myth was unexpected. “If I told you it was nothing but a fabricated story, would you believe me?”


    Nate’s lips curved slightly. “If you say so, I believe it.”


    As their conversation unfolded, the bidding warmenced.


    Bruce, who had already unted his wealth by dropping thirty million on a ring earlier, was among the contenders.


    “One million!” His voice rang out.


    “Two million!”


    “Five million!”


    The figures climbed higher.


    Corrine sat back, crossing her legs, her fingertips drumming an unhurried rhythm against the table. She was not just watching—she was calcting.


    She had once acquired this very set of jewelry for twenty million.


    At the current pace, the bids were nowhere near that mark.


    Perhaps it was time to shake things up.


    As she considered her next move, Bruce’s voice cut through the air once more. “Ten million!”


    A stunned silence fell over the room before hushed murmurs erupted. They witnessed Ashton Group’s wealth tonight.


    The crowd had already been impressed by his earlier purchase, but now, without a moment’s hesitation, he had doubled the bid.


    Leah leaned in closer, eyes gleaming. “Bruce, we have to win this. Andromache has an eye for exceptional pieces—ordinary jewelry does not impress her. If we secure this for her, she will undoubtedly lend her support to Ashton Group in the future.”


    Your adventure awaits at gα?ησν????s?c〇m


    Bruce understood her implication all too well. That was precisely why he was determined to im it.


    But Corrine saw straight through them.


    She had no intention of reiming the jewelry—it was up for auction, and she had let it go. Yet the idea of it falling into Bruce’s hands? That made her stomach turn.


    The attendees remained oblivious to Bruce’s and Leah’s true motives, their fascination rooted solely in the legend surrounding the jewelry set.


    “Twenty million!” A deep, chilling voice sliced through the air.


    Heads turned instinctively, their gazes locking onto Zeke’s private box. Zeke lounged on the sofa, his posture effortlesslyposed. One arm restedzily along the backrest, the crisp white of his rolled-up sleeve exposing a well-toned forearm and the gleam of an expensive watch. Between his slender fingers, a cigarette smoldered, its ember pulsing like a heartbeat.


    As the smoke curled around him, the flickering light momentarily illuminated the sharp angles of his face—a face no less striking than Nate’s.


    .


    .


    .