Chapter 8
"We have an opening bid?" the auctioneer asked. "Shall we start at five million?"
Preston Hayes, having recovered his composure, raised his paddle. He needed this win. "Six million."
He smirked at Barron. "Building a resort, Barron. Going to block your penthouse view."
Elza raised her paddle.
"Seven million," the auctioneer called.
A ripple of shock went through the room.
Barron leaned in, hissing in her ear. "What are you doing? You don't have seven million dollars."
Elza ignored him. She stared straight ahead at Preston.
"Eight million," Preston countered, laughing. "Is she bidding with Monopoly money, Barron? Or are you footing the bill for her little hobby?"
Clotilde laughed. "Let her bid. When the check bounces, she'll go to jail."
Elza raised her paddle again.
"Nine million."
Preston looked annoyed now. The valuation was only eight. "Ten million!" he shouted. "And that's my final offer."
Elza lowered her paddle. She reached into her clutch and pulled out her phone. Her thumb hovered over the screen, her movements small and deliberate.
She opened the news app. She tapped a pre-saved command.
On the giant screen behind the auctioneer, the scrolling financial ticker suddenly flashed red.
BREAKING NEWS: DRAKE HOLDINGS ACQUIRES EXCLUSIVE PATENTS FOR OMNI-TECH. HAYES CORP STOCK PLUMMETS 15% IN AFTER-MARKET TRADING.
Preston's phone began to vibrate. Then it rang. Then his assistant's phone rang.
He looked at the screen. His face went white. Omni-Tech was the centerpiece of his leverage for the North Lot deal. Without those patents, his collateral was worthless. His credit line just evaporated.
Barron stared at the screen. He looked at Elza.
That acquisition was top secret. It wasn't supposed to be announced until Monday. How did she know? And how did she time the release to the exact second?
Preston was shouting into his phone. "What do you mean the financing is pulled? Fix it!"
"Do we have ten million?" the auctioneer asked. "Ten million going once..."
Preston slammed his phone down. He couldn't pay. He was frozen.
Elza raised her paddle one last time.
She held up one finger.
"Ten million... and one dollar?" the auctioneer asked, confused. "I have ten million and one dollar."
It was the ultimate insult.
Preston kicked a chair over. He stormed out, his empire crumbling in real-time.
"Sold!" the gavel banged. "To Mrs. Elza Drake."
Elza walked up to the stage. She took the checkbook from her bag. She wrote the check. She signed it E. Stark .
She took the deed. She didn't walk back to Barron. She walked to the head table, where Constance Schmidt, the matriarch of the family, sat in her wheelchair.
Barron watched her. His mind was racing. The timing. The money. The silence.
She's the leak, he thought. She has to be.
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