My Husband Is a Million Years Old Vampire-Chapter 61

At that moment The murmurs in the room grew frantic, like a wildfire consuming dry grass.

"A red card? Do they even accept that?"

"I’ve never seen one before—who even carries a red card?"

Confusion turned into disbelief, and disbelief turned into frustration. Some shook their heads, unable to wrap their minds around the situation. Others, those with deeper pockets and higher influence, found themselves growing restless.

"Why would the organizers even allow a red card? What does it mean?"

No one had an answer.

Meanwhile, Dorian Lancaster still seated rigidly, his jaw tightening as irritation flickered in his eyes. He had never imagined he would have to compete, let alone be put in a position where his authority was questioned.

At that moment his fingers drummed lightly on the armrest, his mind was calm.

Then, in an almost imperceptible movement, he leaned forward whispering to his representative to bid.

"Thirty-five million."

At that moment, Valentina turned sharply to Raymond, eyes wide with disbelief. She gripped his wrist, her voice urgent but hushed.

"Raymond, you’re going too far."

But Raymond didn’t flinch. He didn’t even turn to her. His gaze remained forward, his posture unshaken.

Valentina’s heart pounded. Her fingers dug into his sleeve.

"Do you even have thirty million?"

She felt her breath hitch as she whispered fiercely, "Raymond, do you understand how auctions work? If they call on you as the winner, you have to pay. There’s no way back. No way out."

Raymond finally looked at her. And in that moment, amidst all the whispers and doubt, he smiled.

Raymond turned to Valentina, his expression calm, his eyes steady as he met her anxious gaze.

"Calm down," he murmured, a small, reassuring smile curving his lips.

Then Valentina’s grip on his sleeve tightened. "Raymond, this isn’t just about money—"

"I made a promise," he interrupted gently, his voice low but firm.

"To your mother. And to you."

Valentina’s breath hitched.

"Getting back something that belongs to you—something that should have never been taken—is worth it." His thumb brushed lightly against the back of her hand. "So let me do my thing."

His confidence made her chest tighten, made her eyes sting.

Meanwhile, Damien sat frozen, his fingers curled into tight fists. His jaw clenched so hard it ached.

"This is insane," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Raymond is going too far."

He could barely process it.

How had he given up so easily? How had he let Raymond take control of the entire situation—of the room, of the moment?

Damien’s hands trembled slightly as he exhaled through his nose.

He couldn’t believe it.

He had underestimated Raymond. And now, he was paying for it.

At that moment Damien clenched his fists, his mind racing. He had to do something. He couldn’t let Raymond walk away with all the glory. He needed to flip the script, to make everyone see Raymond for what he truly was—manipulative, foolish, and reckless.

Then his eyes darted around the room, searching for an opening. A way to plant doubt, to shift the attention off his own failure and onto Raymond’s absurdity.

Then, the J12 representative leaned forward, his face impassive, and raised his paddle.

"Thirty-five million."

Immediately the room exploded.

Laughter rippled through the crowd, a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"That’s it," someone whispered. "No one is going higher than this."

"A necklace for thirty-five million?" another scoffed. "Even the queen of the 19th century would be rolling in her grave."

"That guy—who even is he to even has the guts to challenge Dorian Lancaster?"

The murmurs turned into open chuckles, shaking heads, eyes shifting toward Raymond.

Damien smirked to himself, exhaling slowly.

Good. This was the moment.

Now, he just had to push it further.

The laughter in the hall grew louder, an almost deafening wave of amusement rolling through the room as the realization set in.

"This is it," someone whispered again, barely containing their excitement. "J12 wins again."

The murmurs spread, voices overlapping in hushed yet excited tones, as they all gaze at Raymond

"Does he even understand what transferring 30 million in one go means?"

"Forget understanding—does he even have the means to do it?"

"To pull that off, you’d have to be in control of a bank yourself!"

Another round of laughter erupted, with some shaking their heads in mock sympathy. It was over. Done. A foregone conclusion.

J12 had already won.

However Dorian Lancaster remained composed, his expression barely shifting as he crossed his legs and adjusted the cuff of his suit. He didn’t need to gloat. He didn’t need to celebrate. His presence alone spoke louder than any taunt ever could.

The audience, however, was not as reserved. They showered him with admiration, their voices filled with reverence.

"Another flawless victory."

"J12 always gets what they want."

"He just proved it again—no one can challenge them."

Damien sat back with a smirk, watching Raymond, waiting for the inevitable.

"This is where he folds," he thought.

At that moment Valentina gripped the fabric of her dress, her heart pounding in frustration. She had told Raymond it was impossible. She had known how this would end. And yet—

Raymond hadn’t moved. Hadn’t flinched.

He just sat there, completely still.

And then... he smiled, a slow, deliberate smile.

And for the first time that evening, Dorian Lancaster fingers paused against his cuff.

The room quieted just enough for the weight of that moment to settle.

Something wasn’t right.

At that moment Damien clenched his fists under the table, his nails pressing into his palms. He hadn’t expected things to escalate this far. His plan was simple—bid just enough to look like he had tried but ultimately lose to J12, making Valentina think he had done his best. That way, she would at least see him as someone who had the heart to fight for her, even if he lost.

But Raymond had ruined everything.

Instead of playing it safe, Raymond had forced the stakes higher, dragging J12 into a bidding war that Damien had no intention of fueling. And now, at 35 million dollars, J12 had cemented their dominance.

Then Damien swallowed hard. If J12 had any doubts about the necklace’s worth, they would have stopped bidding. But they didn’t stop. They doubled down.

And the worst part? Raymond had made it look easy.

Without being told, he could tell Valentina, would be seeing him as just another man who had tried but failed. Another person who wasn’t enough.

he stopped at eleven, and Raymond had done thirty, the difference is clear.