My Husband Is a Million Years Old Vampire-Chapter 60

Not wanting to allow his sweet words get to her this time.

Immediately Valentina’s brows furrowed, confusion flickering in her eyes. She couldn’t understand why Raymond would say something like that.

Why would you even say that?"

she whispered, her voice laced with frustration.

She shook her head, looking away. "You and I both know that’s a huge amount of money. Even if you somehow had that much, I wouldn’t let you waste it on a necklace. It’s ridiculous. Three years ago, this necklace was sold for a million dollars. Now, they’re inflating the price to fifteen million just because of some baseless superstitions? Luck? Wealth? All nonsense."

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

"That’s not why I wanted it." Her voice was firm. "It’s my mother’s necklace. That’s the only reason it matters to me."

She exhaled sharply, her emotions pressing against her chest.

"Let’s just go. It’s already over."

Raymond, however, didn’t move. Instead, he leaned slightly closer, his tone calm and unwavering.

"Valentina." He said her name gently, yet with certainty.

"Calm down."

Immediately she blinked, looking at him, his expression unreadable.

"Just wait. Trust me."

His hand found hers, his grip steady.

"Let’s see what happens."

At that moment Raymond bid twenty

At that moment the room went dead silent.

Then, a wave of whispers crashed through the hall like a storm.

"Did I hear that right? Did he just say twenty million?"

"Who the hell does he think he is?"

"Is he seriously challenging J12?!"

The murmurs grew louder, filled with disbelief, amusement, and scorn. Some guests shook their heads, their expressions mixed with mockery. Others chuckled under their breaths, entertained by the absurdity of what they just heard.

"This is laughable," a man in the front whispered to his companion. "I thought Demian was shameless for even attempting to go head to head with J12, but this guy? He’s delusional."

"Right? This must be a joke. There’s no way he can afford that. Maybe he’s just putting on a show for the woman next to him," another snickered.

"I bet he’s using the same trick Demian tried to pull earlier," someone else added. "Making a ridiculous bid just to save face so the woman thinks he actually tried. Then, when J12 inevitably outbids him, he’ll act like some tragic hero who gave it his all."

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

"Pathetic," a lady in an emerald dress scoffed.

"He really thinks he can fool anyone? J12 could buy this entire auction house if they wanted to. Who is he trying to impress?"

Even the J12 representatives raised their brows, their expressions unreadable, though the faintest hint of amusement flickered in their eyes.

Demian, who had been stewing in quiet humiliation moments ago, finally smirked, shaking his head. "This fool actually thinks he’s clever."

Meanwhile, Valentina was staring at Raymond, stunned.

"Twenty million?"

She couldn’t process it. She knew Raymond was calm, but this? What was he thinking?

Yet, despite the waves of mockery, despite the eyes fixed on him with disdain and disbelief—Raymond remained completely unfazed.

He leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, his fingers tapping lightly against the table.

A tense silence hung over the hall, the weight of Raymond’s bid still pressing down on everyone.

Demian sat stiffly in his seat, his pride crumbling.

His jaw clenched. His earlier bid of Eleven million now looked laughable in comparison. Raymond had completely overshadowed him with just one move.

The whispers hadn’t stopped, but now, they weren’t mocking Raymond anymore. Instead, they were turning towards Demian.

"He’s been completely outclassed."

"Demian must be furious right now."

"If he has any self-respect, he should bid higher."

Hearing that, a flicker of frustration crossed Demian’s face. His fingers tapped against the table, his mind racing. Twenty million. It was a huge amount, but he could still raise it. If he went up to twenty-five, he might regain some ground.

He swallowed. But fear crept in.

What if J12 took him seriously? What if they went higher?

He couldn’t afford that.

His pride battled against logic, but in the end, fear won. He remained silent.

The moment his hesitation became obvious, the J12 representatives’ expressions darkened.

Dorian Lancaster, seated with an air of untouchable authority, exhaled sharply.

Disappointment flashed in his eyes.

"How dare he?"

"He actually thinks he can challenge us?"

"We’ve been patient enough," one of them muttered.

Raymond had done something unforgivable in their eyes.

He had dared to compete. And they weren’t going to let that slide.

The auctioneer, sensing the tension, kept his voice steady.

"We have twenty million. Any other bids?"

At that moment A slow smirk spread across the Dorian Lancaster lips.

Without hesitation, he raised his hand.

"Twenty-five million."

Gasps rippled through the hall.

The weight of his words crushed whatever little hope Demian had left.

With that bid, J12 had wiped Raymond’s presence off the battlefield in one swift motion.

The air in the auction hall was suffocating with tension. Every gaze locked onto Raymond, disbelief clouding their expressions.

At that moment Valentina’s fingers tightened around his hand, a silent plea. He had tried. He had done enough. They should leave.

She turned slightly toward him, whispering, "Raymond, let’s go. It’s not worth it anymore."

But before she could say another word, Raymond raised his hand again.

"Thirty million."

Again a collective gasp ripped through the crowd. The auctioneer, who had prided himself on maintaining composure, visibly stiffened. His grip on the microphone tightened, his voice momentarily caught in his throat.

No one dared to speak.

Not even the representatives of J12.

Eyes darted across the room, searching for answers.

The whispers that had once mocked Demian now turned into a frantic murmur of speculation.

"Thirty million? Who the hell is this guy?"

"Does he even know what he’s doing?"

"Is he bluffing?"

A man in the crowd furrowed his brows, his voice barely above a whisper. "I saw him when he walked in."

Immediately heads turned toward him.

"What do you mean?" someone asked, barely able to contain their curiosity.

"He presented a red card."

The weight of those words settled heavily among them.

Then, another voice chimed in, hesitant but intrigued.

"Wait... what does a red card even mean?"