StartNovelChapter 809
Mr. Wilson glared hatefully at Zachary's retreating figure, trembling with rage yet powerless to act.
He had no tto waste feuding with Zachary. Wilson Group's most important partnership of the year had
already been stolen-he needed to find alternative solutions quickly.
Just when he was at his wit's end, the marketing director proposed a new plan.
"Mr. Wilson, Mr. Landon is obsessed with antiques. If you could give him a gift that captures his interest, perhaps
we could consider expanding overseas. That way, even if Reynolds Corporation tries to interfere, it won't be easy
for them."
It was a desperate measure-a last-ditch effort.
Mr Landon was a titan in international investment companies, wielding enormous influence. If they could
establish a connection with him, they could open doors to countless new partnerships through his network.
However, while Mr Landon's industry influence ran deep, his temperament was equally notorious—he was
notoriously difficult to deal with.
Mr. Wilson didn't deliberate long before making his decision. He ordered his people to investigate upcoming
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtactivities at major auction houses.
His assistant quickly returned with news, "Mr. Wilson, there's a black market opening in C City in two days.
Through our underground contacts, I've learned this auction will have exactly what we're looking for."
Mr. Wilson gently stroked the luminous pearl on his walking stick, eyes narrowing as a flash of ruthlessness
crossed his face. "Prepare the car and blank checks. We must seize this opportunity at any cost."
The assistant acknowledged and went to make preparations.
Black market auctions differed vastly from legitimate ones. Most notably, the crowd was dangerous, with
virtually no legal constraints as long as you had money and power, even human lives could be traded freely.
Mr. Wilson brought only two bodyguards, instructing them to keep a low profile before entering the auction
house.
Wilson Group's finances were already precarious. Provoking the wrong people would truly spell disaster.
The underground venue was massive-roughly the size of two office buildings- with skyboxes and tiered seating.
Mr. Wilson paid several hundred thousand in deposits to barely secure a corner skybox, though even that was
more conspicuous than ground-level seating.
The auctioneer took the stage wearing a mysterious black mask, speaking in a mechanized voice, "Distinguished
guests, welcto today's auction. Our house has carefully prepared fifty items for your consideration. I trust
sof you have already previewed the lots. s
"Without further delay, let's begin, with our first item-an authentic work by the master painter Davin Winters,
Hell's Transformation starting at two hundred million dollars." s
The opening bid alone made Mr. Wilson's expression turn grave.
He had underestimated this auction. Today would require enormous expenditure
to achieve his goals.
His target item was scheduled last. After several hours, Mr. Wilson grew increasingly restless.
Finally, when a sultry woman
wheeled out the pharaoh's mask and
scepter, the auctioneer had barely announced the minimum bid beforeWilson struck first hittingitis bidding
button, "One billion US dollars." s
This was the maximum he could afford. If anyone bid higher, his plan would likely fail.
Mr. Wilson leaned forward, scanning the other skyboxes like a man under siege.
The auctioneer began the countdown. Just as Mr. Wilson was about to breathe in relief, a disturbingly familiar
male voice suddenly rang out, doubling the price. Mr. Wilson's body went rigid, his eyes filling with disbelief.
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