Applause echoed through the room.
Sophia stood poised at the podium.
She wore a white gemstone dress that hugged her figure elegantly before falling to her knees, tiny crystals stitched into the fabric catching the light every time she moved. Her hair was swept into a sleek bun perched high on her head, secured with a slim silver pin that gleamed against the dark strands. Minimal jewelry—only a delicate bracelet—allowed her presence to dominate without distraction.
She stood poised, one hand resting lightly against the podium, the other holding the microphone with effortless control.
Her voice, calm and refined, carried through the hall.
In the audience, whispers floated between guests.
“Where do you think she got that dress from? It looks stunning,” one woman murmured, leaning closer to her friend while pretending to adjust her clutch.
“It’s not the dress—it’s her,” the other replied with a soft laugh. “You haven’t seen her at other auctions, have you? A few months ago I was in London helping my parents with business. I attended several of her auctions. She looked incredible every single time.”
The first woman’s eyes widened. “She’s that good?”
“She’s beyond good. Miss Sylvia doesn’t even have dates for the next three years. I tried to inquire about hiring her. But her schedule is completely full.”
Their admiration wasn’t isolated. Around the hall, heads turned toward the stage. Some studied her with business interest. Others with fascination.
Sophia remained composed, but her posture was alive with subtle confidence—shoulders back, chin slightly lifted, movements smooth and graceful. When she smiled at a bidder, it was controlled but warm, enough to make them feel personally acknowledged.
However, in the very first row, one pair of eyes watched her differently.
The woman’s eyes were locked on Sophia—not with admiration, but with unmistakable resentment.
Her manicured hands were folded tightly across her chest, red nails pressing into the fabric of her designer jacket. Her lips pressed into a thin line every time applause echoed through the hall.
Each compliment whispered around her seemed to irritate her further.
She leaned slightly toward the woman beside her, lowering her voice.
“Gigi,” she muttered, eyes never leaving the stage, “I don’t understand why everyone is obsessing over her.”
Her lips curled faintly.
“It’s not like she’s some kind of celebrity,” she continued bitterly. “She’s not even that good.”
“I agree,” Gigi whispered, leaning closer so her words wouldn’t carry. She tilted her head slightly, lips pursed as she watched the stage. “She’s average at best. I wouldn’t pay her to attend an auction if my family ever held one.”
Her fingers toyed with the diamond pendant around her neck as she added with a dismissive shrug, “It’s like people have gone crazy without reason. Isabel, to be honest, you’re a much more popular auctioneer. I’ve heard your name far more often from people.”
Isabel’s lips curved instantly.
“Right,” she said, lifting her chin. A smug glint flashed in her eyes as she crossed one leg over the other, smoothing down her sleek navy dress. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with calculated elegance, pretending indifference, but the satisfaction in her gaze was unmistakable.
A while later, as the auction officially concluded, Sophia stepped down from the stage.
The moment her heels touched the marble floor, she was surrounded.
Collectors. Investors. Gemstone dealers. Antique specialists.
“I didn’t expect to see you in Manhattan,” one middle-aged man said warmly, extending his hand. “What a surprise.”
A woman in a silk emerald gown stepped closer, smiling brightly. “It’s been so long since we last met. What a pleasant surprise.” She glanced around at the crowd. “The owner must have spent a fortune to bring Sylvia here.”
Sophia offered a gracious smile. “Good to see you too, Mrs. Chen.”
