Chapter 15 : Veiled Threats Unveiled
The auction hall was a cavern of muted elegance, its high ceilings adorned with chandeliers that cast a soft, golden glow over the assembled crowd, the light refracting off the crystal pendants in a delicate dance of brilliance. The walls were paneled in dark wood, polished to a mirror-like sheen, their surfaces etched with subtle carvings that hinted at the wealth and history of the families gathered within. The air carried the faint scent of polished wood and expensive perfume, a heady mixture that mingled with the rustle of silk and the occasional clink of a champagne flute. The room was filled with suits and murmurs, the low hum of conversation punctuated by the sharp tap of heels against the marble floor, a symphony of anticipation that underscored the tension simmering beneath the surface.
Michael stood near the back, his cap pulled low to obscure his face, the brim casting a shadow over his eyes. His hands were clasped behind him, fingers interlaced in a gesture of restraint, his posture rigid yet composed. He observed the proceedings with the detached precision of a general surveying a battlefield, his gaze sweeping over the crowd to assess the players. The land—prime real estate on the city's outskirts, a swath of green that promised both profit and power—was the prize, and the Visallas were not the only contenders. Nord Corporation had sent a representative, a sleek man with a shark's smile and eyes that glinted with calculated intent, his paddle raised with a confidence that set Michael's teeth on edge.
The bidding began slowly, each increment met with a ripple of interest that spread through the room like a wave. Michael's proxy, a discreet figure in a grey suit, stood near the front, his movements measured as he matched the offers with a steady hand. The numbers climbed—£ 40million, £ 41 million, £ 42 million—each bid announced by the auctioneer's clear, resonant voice, the sound bouncing off the walls. The Nord representative raised his paddle again, his smile widening as he called out £ 44 million. A murmur spread through the room, heads turning to gauge the Visalla response, the air thickening with anticipation.
Michael nodded subtly, a barely perceptible tilt of his head, and his proxy countered with £44.5 million. The room buzzed, the tension palpable, the crowd leaning forward as if drawn by an invisible thread. Nord raises their bid to £47 Million . For a long moment, the hall seemed to hold its breath, the chandelier light flickering as if in sympathy with the suspense. Then, a shout broke the silence—a figure shoved through the crowd, his movements erratic, a knife glinting in his hand like a shard of ice. The room erupted into chaos, chairs scraping against the floor, voices rising in alarm, the delicate order shattering like glass.
Leo reacted first, his movements swift and precise, a blur of motion as he tackled the man to the ground. The impact sent champagne flutes crashing around them, the liquid pooling on the marble like spilled blood, the shards glinting under the chandelier light. Ray was there a second later, his breath heavy with exertion as he pinned the intruder's arms, his knees pressing into the man's back. The saboteur was wiry, his Nord badge pinned crookedly to his jacket, his face twisted in defiance, sweat beading on his brow.
Michael stepped forward, his presence cutting through the noise like a blade through silk, the crowd parting instinctively. "Who sent you?" he asked, his voice low but commanding, each word carrying the weight of authority honed over years.
The man spat, his eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape that wouldn't come. "You'll find out soon enough," he snarled, his voice rough with defiance, refusing to elaborate. Dante moved closer, his grey eyes cold and unyielding, and pressed the tip of a knife against the man's throat, the blade catching the light in a menacing gleam. "Talk," he said, his tone devoid of emotion, a command that brooked no refusal.
The saboteur's resolve faltered, his breath hitching, his eyes widening as the knife pressed deeper. "Nord… and someone else," he gasped, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Inside your family. That's all I know." His confession hung in the air, a bomb dropped into the fragile truce of the auction, the implications rippling through the room. The bidding had stopped, the land slipping from their grasp, but the revelation shifted the focus, turning allies into potential enemies.
Michael signaled to Leo and Ray, a subtle gesture that carried the weight of a command. They dragged the man to a side room, his protests fading into the distance, the sound muffled by the closing door. The crowd began to disperse, their whispers a chorus of speculation, the air heavy with the scent of fear and uncertainty. Michael remained, his mind turning over the implications, the word insider gnawing at him, stirring memories of the note, the USB recording, the fractured trust within his circle.
Outside, the night air was cool against his skin as he stepped onto the balcony overlooking the city, the stone railing cold beneath his hands. The lights stretched out like a constellation, a sprawling tapestry of brilliance that reminded him of the empire he was meant to inherit. The city hummed below, a living entity of sound and motion, its rhythm a counterpoint to the storm brewing within him. His phone buzzed in his pocket, a sharp vibration that broke his reverie—a distorted voice crackled through: "You can't stop what's coming, Michael. Step down, or lose everything." The line went dead, leaving him staring into the darkness, the weight of the threat settling into his bones like a chill that wouldn't fade.
He returned to the hall, where Dante and Ray waited, their expressions grim, the tension between them a tangible force. "We need to find out who's behind this," Dante said, his voice steady, his grey eyes scanning the room as if searching for the traitor in their midst. "Before they strike again."
Michael nodded, his gaze distant, his mind racing through the possibilities. "We will. But for now, we watch. And we wait." The night stretched on, the city humming below, a silent witness to the storm brewing within the Visalla family, the shadows lengthening with each passing moment.