lers wheeled the golden harp onto the center stage. The instrument gleamed under the

n Paris in 1782 for the Countess de Valois. A masterpiece of classical

diately rais

n to the la

n older art collect

nt two m

aitlin countered wi

arm sharply, her eyes bur

n, do i

is chair. He didn't look at the stage; his

llion d

from one point five million directly to ten mil

h, turning her head to shoo

reath, "He's trying to bait

steady breath. She ra

nt five

tated him. He wanted to see her hands tremble; he wan

reyson barked, rais

used, his gavel h

y million from M

guests began whi

nd? Twenty million f

ng his ex-wi

itlin. She doesn't have

the noise felt distant, like wind

room. The moment she sat down to play a simple Chopin prelude, Greyson had walked in, slammed the fallboard do

ation, all backed by the absol

er paddle on

oint five

his full body toward the crowd, his po

illion d

lent. Even the auctioneer looked

gure for a single classical instrument. It was enoug

excitement, clutching Greyson's arm a

for the crack in her composure, waiting fo

at him across the

The last lingering ember of affection she had eve

r right hand and made a polite, dismiss

paddle face down on the sma

was

son

d himself for an intense, emotional struggle, but Caitl

d his voice, cleari

g once... fifty mil

ad won the bid, but he felt utterly hollow, a

watching crowd, Greyson raised his vo

ed million

seemed to hold its

cialites in the front rows looked uncomfortable. Greyson stood tall, h

d around to sneer at Caitlin, savoring what she bel

d trembled as he rai

s from Mr. Greyson Owen! Go

ed million

It was deep, calm, and carried a heavy authority that

m whipped toward the