I Inherited Trillions, Now What?

The room was electric with anticipation as the spotlight shifted, illuminating a breathtaking 1-of-30 Pagani Huayra. Its sleek lines and glimmering finish were a testament to the pinnacle of automotive craftsmanship. The starting bid was announced at $5.5 million, and almost immediately, hands shot up in the air. The British, Russian, and Arab contingents began an intense bidding war.

David leaned back in his chair, sighing. "I already own one of these. Not worth the hassle," he muttered.

Turning to Alexander, David smirked. "Alex, don't you want this?"

Catherine interjected before Alexander could respond. "What are you saying? Alex doesn't bid on cars like you do."

David grinned, leaning forward. "On the contrary, Alex has embraced a love for cars too. It's the reason he came here. Before this, I was with him earlier, checking out the three Bugattis he bought."

Catherine's jaw dropped, speechless for a moment, before she refocused on the bidding. The numbers climbed steadily until Nathaniel Rockefeller raised his paddle, his calm demeanor radiating authority. "Nine million dollars," he said.

The room stilled. No one dared challenge him.

David sighed again, shaking his head. "No one wants to bid against him," he muttered.

Catherine glanced at him. "Why would anyone? The Rockefellers are untouchable. Nathaniel is the next designated heir."

David rolled his eyes. "Alex, you can just bid on the others."

The next car rolled out: a stunning, 1-of-1 pink Lamborghini Revuelto. Its bold color gleamed under the lights, and the auctioneer announced the starting price—$8 million.

David's eyes lit up. "My little sister has started loving cars. Let me get this for her."

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Wait, Daphne loves cars? Then don't bother." Without waiting for further debate, she raised her paddle. "Twelve million."

The Arab man in the white thobe countered instantly. "Thirteen point five million," he said in a calm but firm voice.

Catherine's response was swift. "Fifteen million." Her bid won, drawing murmurs of admiration and respect from the crowd.

The next car to grace the stage was a black Bugatti Chiron Sport Noire. Starting at $10 million, the bidding was brisk, with the Arab man securing it for $11 million. David merely shrugged. "I already own this one."

Then came the crown jewel of the lineup—a 1-of-3 Pagani Onda HP Barchetta. The auctioneer began the bidding at a jaw-dropping $19 million. David leaned forward, his competitive streak ignited.

"This is it," he said, raising his paddle.

The Arab man, a Russian oligarch, and Nathaniel Rockefeller quickly followed, driving the price higher. Nathaniel bid $25 million. David smirked and raised it to $28 million. The room was charged with tension as Rockefeller coolly countered with $30 million. David didn't back down. "Thirty-two million."

Nathaniel's smile didn't falter as he upped the ante to $50 million. David clenched his jaw, ready to push further, but Catherine gently placed a hand on his arm. "It's not worth it. Let him have it."

The crowd murmured, sensing the auction's climax—until Alexander raised his paddle. "Sixty million dollars."

The room went silent, the weight of the bid palpable. On Nathaniel's side, Madeline Astor turned to him, her voice low but firm. "The Blackwell is bidding."

Nathaniel's smile wavered slightly, but his resolve hardened. "Seventy million," he said, his tone sharp.

Alexander's response was immediate. "Seventy-five million."

Nathaniel's hand hovered over his paddle, but Daniel Dupont, seated beside him, leaned in. "Nat, you know how liquid and vast the Blackwells' wealth is. It won't be smart to enter a bidding war with him."

Nathaniel's expression darkened. "I won't be bested by someone who only has money."

Madeline interjected, her tone measured. "Stop, Nat. It's not worth it. Remember your brothers. Unlike him, you can't afford to be labeled a waster. This is just new money flaunting itself. Let it go."

Nathaniel hesitated, then let his hand drop. "That's all they know," he said, his smile returning, though it lacked its earlier warmth.

Across the room, Catherine turned to Alexander. "What's gotten into you?" she asked, her tone tinged with concern.

David, on the other hand, couldn't hide his excitement. "That was awesome! Hey, Alex, would you sell the car to me?"

"Shut up," Catherine snapped. "You know what it means to offend the Rockefellers and their clique."

She paused, her expression softening. "Sorry, David. You Morgans wouldn't understand."

Her thoughts drifted to her own family history. Just eight generations ago, her ancestors were considered new money. The struggles they endured to integrate into the ultra-powerful elite had been immense, facing oppression from established families like the Astors and Vanderbilts. It wasn't until her father's generation that they began to receive true recognition. It was why her father was so insistent she marry David—strengthening their ties to another influential family.

But Alexander wasn't oblivious to the weight of his actions. The Blackwells, despite their immense wealth, were only two generations in and had made plenty of enemies. While their fortune shielded them, they lacked the political and global influence of families like the Rockefellers. Catherine knew challenging them wasn't a smart move. Yet as she studied Alexander, his dark eyes locked onto Nathaniel's, her concerns deepened. Nathaniel's smile was still firmly in place, unwavering and full of calculated intent. Alexander's frown opposite from his, despite having won the car and the exchange.

The tension in the room lingered, a harbinger of battles yet to come.

As the auction transitioned to a new phase, the lights dimmed, and a projection lit up the grand screen. The image displayed the specifications of a series of luxury yachts, their sleek designs and towering price tags eliciting gasps and murmurs from the audience.

David slouched in his chair, unimpressed. "Yachts? What a bummer," he grumbled. "At least Alex bought a car and stuck it to those stiff Rockefellers."

The first yachts unveiled were worth $100 million each, a small fortune for most but merely a starting point in this rarefied room. The Arab man in the white thobe quickly snapped up two, while Daniel Dupont claimed the third with a satisfied nod.

Then, the room hushed as the auctioneer unveiled the next item—a mega-yacht worth a staggering $700 million. Its grandeur was undeniable, with its cutting-edge design, sprawling decks, and palatial interiors displayed on the screen.

Madeline Astor wasted no time, her paddle raised as she bid $700 million. Before the crowd could react, the Russian oligarch countered with $750 million. Undeterred, Madeline bid again—$780 million.

Alexander, silent up to this point, raised his paddle. "Eight hundred million dollars," he announced, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

The crowd fell silent, stunned by the audacity of the bid. Madeline's brow furrowed in frustration as she turned to her companions. "Eight hundred and ten million," she said, her voice tight.

Alexander didn't flinch. "Eight hundred and fifty million."

Madeline glared across the room, her irritation palpable. Nathaniel leaned toward her, his tone amused. "What happened to staying calm?" he teased.

Madeline clenched her fists. "It's just so infuriating." The old society families have rules. Spending recklessly can be used against us, especially when it comes to succession. It would prove wastefulness. And there's an unspoken code—when someone from a bigger family really wants something, the lesser families back down. That's why we despise new money. They don't understand the rules.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. The Blackwells might be richer than her family, but Madeline still felt superior.

Madeline's lips tightened. "Of course. They may have wealth, but they lack pedigree. The thought of him winning irritates me to no end." She sighed, turning to Nathaniel. "Maybe I was wrong earlier. We should've stopped him before."

Nathaniel chuckled. "Let it go, Madeline. Like you said, it's just new money. Besides, the final item is what we really need."

The auctioneer concluded the yacht bidding, awarding Alexander the mega-yacht. The tension was palpable as the crowd prepared for the grand finale.

The final projection lit up the screen, revealing an extraordinary private jet—billed as the most luxurious in the world. Its sleek design and opulent interiors made it a marvel of modern engineering, and its price tag began at $1.2 billion.

Daniel Dupont leaned toward Nathaniel. "So, that's the new plane, right?"

Nathaniel nodded. "Yes. I heard it was debuting here. It's the largest and most luxurious plane available—perfect for my Rockefeller status."

The bidding commenced, and Nathaniel didn't hesitate. "One point five billion," he declared, his voice firm and commanding. It was a statement as much as a bid, a declaration that this was his.

The room held its breath, expecting no challengers. The auctioneer began her countdown. "Going once, going twice—"

"One point six billion," Alexander interjected, raising his paddle. The room collectively gasped. Nathaniel's confident smile faltered.

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "One point seven billion," he snapped, his tone clipped.

Alexander's response was immediate. "One point eight billion."

The tension in the room was electric. Nathaniel clenched his jaw, the weight of the challenge pressing on him. "Two billion," he said, his voice rising with authority.

Alexander smirked. "Two point five billion dollars."

A stunned silence descended over the room. All eyes turned to Nathaniel, whose composure finally cracked. This wasn't just a bidding war—it was a direct challenge to his authority and legacy.

The Rockefeller heir locked eyes with Alexander, his gaze burning with defiance. Alexander, however, remained unfazed, his calm demeanor exuding unshakable confidence.

The room waited, breathless, to see if Nathaniel would retaliate. For the second time that night, it seemed the unthinkable had happened not once but twice—a Rockefeller had been bested.