Chapter 143 – Big Mistake
The rest of the auction?
A half-mess.
At least for Lux.
For the girls?
Total nuclear-grade meltdown.
The kind of meltdown where nobles didn't just fume—they plotted.
Whispers turned sharp. Posture stiffened. Old money started side-eying old power like it had just farted in church.
Lux sipped his drink with the casual grace of a man watching it all unfold from a leather throne in Hell's VIP box.
The scent in the air had changed. No more overpriced perfumes and excited sweat. Now it was sour—like fear mingled with pride. The kind of pride that had just taken a very public, very expensive slap to the face.
Especially the lamia.
Lylith Seravelle didn't scream, didn't throw a chair, didn't claw the drapes like a noob investor watching her first portfolio crash. No—she just sat there. Perfect posture. Eyes forward.
But her glare?
It could've stripped skin off a lesser man.
Or cracked through diplomatic immunity.
