Chapter 742

• Chapter Seven Hundred and Forty Two
• The grand hall of the City M Auction House, once a theater of glittering excess and trillion-dollar gambles, was now eerily silent. The scent of expensive cologne and aged mahogany still lingered in the air, but the soul of the room had shifted. The high-society titans had retreated to their penthouses, leaving behind a vacuum that the Director, a man usually composed by the rhythm of profit and loss, found himself struggling to fill.
• He stood in his private office, staring at a mahogany desk covered in stacks of crisp, white cards. On each card was the elegant, sharp signature of Micky Ryan—the same Autographs that had just some few minutes ago commanded a price tag capable of feeding a small nation for a century.