?Chapter 1703:


    “Violette thinks far too highly of herself. She might manage to block the Martel family from bidding, but there’s no chance the Jones or Wade families would ever take her seriously.”


    “Exactly. Everyone knows how those families are connected. If the Jones family brushes her off and joins the auction anyway, she’ll be humiliated.”


    “That’s right. With how close the Hewitts are to the Martels, the Jones family would never allow Violette toe out on top.”


    Murmurs rippled through the crowd as people leaned in, whispering their guesses to one another. None of them realized that Christina and Violette had already privately asked the representatives of the major families to stay out of the bidding entirely.


    Gillian kept her eyes fixed on the stage, her nerves wound tight. She edged closer to Bain, reached out, and lightly caught the edge of his suit jacket between her fingers, giving it a careful tug. When he turned and nced down at her, she immediately released him, afraid she might have irritated him.


    “Um…” She inteced her fingers uneasily and spoke in a hushed tone. “Is Christina going to lose? I’m scared this is a trap set by Ms. Hewitt.”


    Bain’s forehead creased faintly, his gaze sharpening. “Let her try if she dares.”


    “Shouldn’t we do something to help Christina?” Gillian murmured.


    “Not yet.” Bain believed his sister knew exactly what she was doing. If she hadn’t been prepared, she would never have epted the wager with such calm certainty. She had always said she never entered a fight unless she was sure of the oue — which meant that by the time she agreed, she already held the advantage.


    “Alright.” Gillian nodded and remained at his side without another word.


    A short distance away, Alban observed them with a dark, prating stare. Watching them stand so close together stirred an unease he couldn’t quite exin. He lifted his ss and finished the red wine in one swallow, then brushed his lower lip with long fingers — the motion smooth and unconsciously deliberate.


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    Beside him, Irene tightened her hands and shifted closer in restless anticipation. She drew in a breath, just about to lean toward him, when he abruptly turned and strode away.


    Startled, she rushed after him. “Mr. Martel! Aren’t you staying to watch Ms. Hewitt’s performance? Where are you going? I’lle with you, I—”


    Before she could finish, Alban’s icy nce cut her short. “Don’te after me,” he said coldly.


    “Okay,” Irene answered, her voice quivering. She dropped her gaze and pressed her teeth gently to her lip, her eyes burning. Why was Alban always so distant and unapproachable?


    Forcing herself to steady her emotions, she watched him disappear, then turned her attention across the room to Bain. He was standing with two women now, making it nearly impossible for her to get close. A bitter sense of injustice welled up in her chest. Why had she been born beneath them, destined to grovel and trail behind? If only she had been born into the Hewitt family, she might have had a real chance to approach someone like Bain or Alban.


    Not far away, La nced toward Gillian, resentment flickering sharply in her eyes. She was nothing more than a servant of the Jones family — how could she dare stand shoulder to shoulder with Bain? Was there truly something going on between them?


    La bit down on her lip. She turned to Jaxen at her side, tapped his arm softly, and shot him a pointed look.


    Jaxen understood immediately. He stepped up behind Bain and Gillian, raised his arm, and deliberately wedged himself between them, forcing them apart.


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