I Inherited Trillions, Now What?

The transition to the art segment of the evening was marked by a palpable shift in energy. Guests adjusted their postures, their gazes sharpening with curiosity as the spotlight illuminated a series of sculptures displayed on the stage. Each piece was a testament to human creativity and craftsmanship, valued at ten million dollars and above. The room hushed as the auctioneer began her introductions.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our first offering is Auguste Rodin's Eternal Springtime, an exquisite bronze sculpture that captures the essence of romantic passion. The starting bid is ten million dollars."

Daniel Dupont, seated with his entourage near the center of the room, raised his paddle without hesitation. His expression was calm, almost casual, but there was an intensity in his eyes that hinted at his determination to dominate this segment of the auction.

"Ten million from Mr. Dupont," the auctioneer confirmed with a smile. "Do I hear twelve?"

A hand went up from the back of the room, belonging to a Russian oligarch whose wealth was as notorious as his taste for the finer things in life. "Twelve million," he said with a faint smirk.

Dupont's paddle shot up again. "Fifteen million."

The bids continued to escalate, with the two heavyweights battling it out until Dupont secured the Rodin piece for an impressive twenty-five million dollars. Polite applause filled the room as the sculpture was whisked away.

The next item, a towering marble statue by Alberto Giacometti titled The Walking Man I, elicited similar enthusiasm. The starting bid of twenty million dollars quickly spiraled upwards as the Russian oligarch claimed it for thirty-two million, outbidding a hopeful contender from the British delegation.

As the sculptures continued to roll out—works by Henry Moore, Constantin Brâncuși, and Jeff Koons among them—it became evident that Daniel Dupont and the Russian oligarch were the dominant players in this arena. Neither Alexander, Catherine, nor David showed any interest in participating, content to observe the spectacle.

Finally, the sculpture segment concluded, and the room's attention shifted once more as the auctioneer announced, "And now, we move to the paintings."

The first piece unveiled was Pablo Picasso's Les Femmes d'Alger (Version O), a vibrant and chaotic masterpiece. The starting bid was a staggering fifty million dollars. The British contingent, represented by a sharp-suited gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair, immediately entered the fray, as did Dupont, whose paddle seemed almost perpetually raised.

As the paintings progressed, the stakes grew higher. Works by Willem de Kooning, Francis Bacon, and Mark Rothko commanded eye-watering sums. Many of the pieces were rumored to have been displayed in museums, but whispers circulated among the attendees that the originals had long since been spirited away into the private collections of the world's wealthiest elites. Some of those very collectors were present tonight, adding an air of exclusivity and intrigue to the proceedings.

Daniel Dupont emerged as a dominant force once again, securing a Rothko for seventy million dollars and a Bacon triptych for ninety-five million. The British bidders claimed their share as well, including a stunning de Kooning for eighty million. Throughout it all, Alexander, David, and Catherine remained silent, their paddles untouched.

Then came the final painting of the evening: Nafea Faa Ipoipo (When Will You Marry?) by Paul Gauguin. The piece had made headlines in 2015 when it was sold for a reported two hundred and ten million dollars, but tonight, it promised to fetch even more. The lights dimmed slightly as the painting was unveiled, its vivid colors and serene composition drawing a collective gasp from the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer began, her voice reverent, "the starting bid for this masterpiece is two hundred and fifty million dollars."

Daniel Dupont's paddle was the first to rise. "Two hundred and fifty-five million," he said with a nod.

The British bidder followed swiftly. "Two hundred and seventy million."

The room buzzed with anticipation as the bids climbed. Alexander, who had been quietly observing up to this point, leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes fixed on the painting. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, then, almost imperceptibly, he raised his paddle.

"Three hundred million," he said, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs.

A ripple of surprise swept through the room. Daniel Dupont glanced at Alexander, his expression unreadable, before raising his paddle again. "Three hundred and ten million."

Alexander didn't hesitate. "Three hundred and fifty million."

The room fell silent. The auctioneer's gaze swept across the audience, searching for any sign of a counteroffer. None came.

"Three hundred and fifty million, going once… going twice… sold to Mr. Alexander Blackwell!"

The applause was louder this time, tinged with astonishment. Alexander leaned back in his seat, his expression as calm and composed as ever.

David turned to him, a teasing smile on his face. "When did you start getting an artistic eye? Didn't think you'd drop that kind of money on a painting."

Catherine, who had been watching Alexander closely, interjected with a faint smirk. "You really are dense, David."

David frowned, looking between the two of them. "What—" Then it hit him, and his eyes widened. "Oh." He leaned back, shaking his head with a laugh. "Not talking anymore."

The art segment concluded with the crowd still buzzing from Alexander's unexpected acquisition. The auctioneer, ever poised, stepped forward once more. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for an extraordinary evening of art. We now transition to the final segment of our event: the automobiles."

The anticipation in the room rekindled as the spotlight shifted to a gleaming lineup of luxury cars. But for now, the focus lingered on Alexander, whose bold purchase had cemented his presence as more than just a silent observer.

The room hummed with anticipation as the automobile portion of the event began. Spotlights illuminated the stage, and the sleek silhouette of a Koenigsegg Regera rolled into view. One of only 80 ever made, the car was a masterpiece of engineering and luxury, gleaming under the bright lights.

"Finally, the cars are out," David said, a spark of excitement lighting up his face. "Time for the main event."

Catherine shook her head, though a small smile played on her lips. "You and your cars."

The auctioneer's voice resonated through the hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, we begin the automobile auction with this stunning Koenigsegg Regera. Starting bid at four million dollars."

Immediately, hands went up. The Arab man, dressed impeccably in a white thobe, raised his paddle, his gaze fixed on the car with a look of determination. A German man, who had remained quiet for most of the evening, joined the bidding war without hesitation.

David turned to Alexander, leaning slightly toward him. "Aren't you going to bid?"

Before Alexander could respond, Catherine interjected. "What are you saying? Alex, bid on cars? Not everyone is like you."

David smirked. "On the contrary," he said, leaning back with a confident air. "Alex has embraced the love of cars too. It's the reason why he came here." He paused, letting the suspense build. "Before that, I was with him earlier, checking out the three Bugattis he bought."

Catherine blinked, momentarily speechless, as she turned to Alexander, who offered no denial, his expression as stoic as ever. She sighed and shook her head again, refocusing on the auction.

The bidding war intensified, with the Arab man and the German trading offers in rapid succession. The numbers climbed higher until a calm but commanding voice interrupted.

"Six million dollars," Nathaniel Rockefeller declared, raising his paddle with practiced ease.

The room seemed to hold its breath as the auctioneer's gavel hovered in the air. "Six million dollars, going once... twice... sold! To Mr. Rockefeller."

"Shit, I zoned out," David muttered, running a hand through his hair. He glanced toward the winner, shaking his head. "That Rockefeller guy—I almost forgot about his love for vehicles."

Alexander's gaze followed David's, settling on Rockefeller, who wore a triumphant smile. A sinister grin flickered across Alexander's face.

The stage was set for more intense bidding as the evening progressed, the air electric with anticipation for what would come next.