Love Beyond the Mask

Chapter 26

Standing there, Whitney translated the confrontation in her mind, “Even if she and her daughter want to

wipe you off the face of the earth, you can’t hurt Monica even the slightest!”

She looked up at the man whose handsome features had been transformed, her heart cold as an

iceberg silently drifted within her.

With a sneer, she said, “Simon, I guess the hospital really did wonders on that face of yours”

“What do you mean?”

Monica glared at Whitney and quickly changed the subject, “Sis, you came to bid on landscapes today?

But I heard your finances are tight, and you’ve got some street thug for a boyfriend now. Do you need

my help?”

Simon’s gaze on Whitney darkened.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. “What, Whitney’s taken up with a street thug?”

Monica feigned innocence. “Don’t talk like that, everyone. Maybe my sister just made a mistake.”

“Oh my God, to consort with riff–raff is to fall from grace. The Valentine family’s name must be totally

tarnished by Whitney.”

“Let’s not be too harsh. Didn’t Roselyn say she saw Whitney splurging at the boutique the other day?

Maybe her new beau is loaded! Sis, since you have a new man, why not introduce him to us?”

Monica’s challenge was thinly veiled.

“A thug worth meeting? With her looking penniless and bidding on million–dollar paintings, I doubt she

even has the money to start the bid. Isn’t that right, Whitney?” Roselyn mocked openly, the two of them

taking turns. The socialites looked at Whitney with ridicule.

Then, the lights dimmed, and the luxurious auction began.

The first item up was a landscape painting from the late Renaissance era.

The starting bid was a million dollars.

Simon raised his paddle. “Two million!”

The socialites cooed with envy, “Simon’s so lavish, doubling the bid just to win Monica’s favor!”

Monica smirked smugly, satisfied with her prediction, as Whitney did not raise her paddle. Monica

stood up and said to the auctioneer in a helpful tone, “Wait, my sister wants to bid too. Come on, Sis,

place your bid.”

Her voice carried over the microphone, audible to everyone.

All eyes turned to Whitney, waiting for her to bid.

Whitney sat still, her expression unchanged. She knew she had only $800,000 in cash from Tiana- not

enough to meet the starting bid.

F2 @ I 2 3 0 5 PE F F F X Z

Simon had called out two million, showcasing a blatant attempt to humiliate her.

“Whitney, isn’t your thug boyfriend showing up, or do you not even have a million dollars to your

name?” Roselyn taunted sharply.

The socialites laughed mockingly.

“If you can’t afford it, don’t embarrass yourself by taking up space.”

The

auctioneer frowned at Whitney. “Whitney, are you bidding or not? If you can’t afford it, have security

escort you out so you don’t disrupt the proceedings!”

Monica chuckled under her breath.

15.00

Just then, a chillingly magnetic voice cut through the darkness, “She bids five million!”

Everyone was stunned, including Whitney, who recognized that captivating voice and turned to look

back.

A towering figure strolled toward her, his lazy gait and broad shoulders exuding the composure and

dangerous allure of a mature man. His presence commanded silence, and his mysterious mask elicited

gasps from the socialites.

The room held its breath,

Whitney’s almond eyes widened in shock.

The man approached her calmly, bending elegantly in the shadows and drawing near. His large hand

gently grasped her wrist.

His cool breath enveloped Whitney.

His eyebrows were dark and intense. He looked at her, scrutinizing her delicate face, petite forehead-

all so fragile. Yet her eyes sparkled with intelligence and defiance. He was sure she was unharmed.

He then sat down, inscrutable, and asked softly, “Am I late?”

Whitney’s heart skipped a beat.

For some reason, his arrival always brought a surge of emotion.

That deep voice, she guessed he wanted to ask, ‘Are you okay?‘ His concern was hidden while she felt

vulnerable.

Whitney blinked, her lips parting slightly, “No, you’re not late, Sir.”

The man settled next to her, elegantly crossing his legs. Whitney stole a glance at him. Was he not

supposed to be on a business trip? How did he come down like a deity to save her?

She suspected he had heard about tonight’s ordeal from his driver.

With a raised eyebrow, he elegantly raised his paddle. “No one else is bidding? Six million!”

The room erupted, and the socialites were in shock, “Is that the thug Whitney’s with? He’s so tall and

handsome!”

Roselyn, shaken by the thug’s dapper appearance, remembered her grudge and sneered. “Didn’t you

see the mask? He must be hideously scarred, a gangster! Simon, outbid him!”

Simon felt a pang of jealousy as the rumors of Whitney’s thug boyfriend materialized. He had never

believed Whitney could land a man.

But this thug bid six million.

This provoked Simon’s competitive spirit; Whitney could not possibly find someone wealthier than him!

This thug must be bluffing.

He shouted, “Eight million!”

“Ten million,” the man’s voice was as smooth as fine wine, nonchalantly cold.

Simon’s eyes hardened, “Twelve million!”

“Fourteen million.”

Whitney watched as the man did not even glance up.

The painting was worth five million at most; he was bidding twice its value. Whitney could not help but

feel uneasy, “Mr. L, there’s no need to outbid him. It’s not worth it.”

“I don’t intend to buy it.”

Whitney was confused.

15:00

The man glanced at the petite woman beside him, his indifference evident as he said, “Just driving up

the price

for him.”

Speechless, Whitney admired his ability to command the situation so gracefully yet ruthlessly and

mentally gave him a thumbs up. Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Twenty million,” he continued his bold bidding.

Simon’s eyes reddened with fury. He kept glancing at the tall masked man beside Whitney. He must be

hideous!

He could not let a thug overshadow him and shouted, “Twenty–six million!”

The man did not raise his paddle again. Whitney watched as he propped his chin up, his narrow eyes

slightly

lifted.

The auctioneer, eager not to lose a big spender, quickly banged the gavel three times, “Congratulations

to Mr. Perlman! The landscape painting is sold for twenty–six million!”

Simon slouched into the chair, his face tensed as if on the brink of a fury, while Monica silently

watched, too terrified to make even a peep.

They both realized they had been played for fools by that damn thug!

Sure, Skye Gem had a high market value, but money doesn’t grow on trees. Spending twenty–six

million dollars on a landscape painting really stung.

Yet, Monica felt a sense of triumph as she strutted up to Whitney. She glanced at the man in the mask,

wondering why he, clearly a street thug, exuded such an untouchable aura. His mere presence

seemed to cast a dazzling spell around Whitney, suddenly making her unapproachable as if wrapped in

an air of icy nobility.

Monica convinced herself it must be an illusion. Nothing more than a pretty boy!

Leaning in, she sneered at Whitney. “A thug is a thug, good at nothing but driving up the dirt. Not to

mention twenty–six million. I bet your boyfriend couldn’t earn a million his whole life, Sis!”