Married To The Billionaire Alpha King-Chapter 137- hundred thousand

137

~Elara’s POV

I almost choked on a laugh. "That is terrifying."

"Welcome to leadership," he said.

Janea found her way behind me, her excitement turning into nervous energy.

"Elara... what if no one bids? What if..."

"They will," I cut in softly. "And even if they don’t, we still did something beautiful today."

She nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. I understood. Fear comes with ambition like a shadow comes with light.

Applause again. It rolled across the hall like a soft wave, like something alive. Not loud in a chaotic way, but steady. Respectful. Prideful. Almost gentle, even from the fiercest alphas.

I sat back down slowly, still catching my breath. My knees felt light, like they could give out or lift me into the air. I was not sure which. My hands trembled, just enough to betray me, so I placed them under the table where no one could see.

For a second, I allowed myself to just feel everything.

The lights. The heat from the crowd. The smell of spiced meals and perfume. The whisper of silk dresses brushing against polished floors. And the auction started.

Reality felt like it had stretched to make room for me. Like the world paused, not to test me, but to witness me.

Darlon was beside me, calm as always. He sat like a king in a seat built for him, shoulders straight, gaze steady, his presence enough to silence chaos. I realized then why other alphas feared him. It wasn’t the title. It wasn’t even the power. It was the certainty. He did not question where he belonged. He did not question if he deserved the space he occupied.

I wished I could borrow just half of that certainty.

Janae leaned in. Her voice shook.

"Elara... do you understand what just happened?"

"No," I admitted. "Not fully."

"You just sold a gown for one hundred thousand."

"I know," I said, staring at the space where the dress had been, "but it feels like I dreamed it weeks ago and I am only remembering it now."

Before she could reply, the host’s voice cut through the room.

"Please prepare the next piece. Tonight, we are not just buying dresses. We are buying history. This collection marks a change in our kingdom’s creative scene. So open your wallets, or step aside for those who will."

Another dress was brought onto the stage. This one was midnight blue, velvet, embroidered with silver. I remembered making it in silence, sewing every bead like a prayer. At the time, I didn’t know what I was asking for. Now, maybe I did. A place. A chance. A voice that was not ignored.

"Starting bid: ninety thousand!"

That number alone made my head snap up. Ninety. Starting. I thought someone misheard. But they hadn’t. The numbers came fast. Voices clashed.

"Ninety-five!"

"One-ten!"

"One-twenty!"

"One-thirty!"

A Luna in a pale purple gown stood. Her voice was soft, but her bid cut through the noise like a blade.

"One-hundred and fifty thousand."

I heard someone choke. I wasn’t sure if it was Janae or me.

The host looked delighted, almost breathless.

"I believe we have a serious contender. Any more bids?"

Silence.

A held breath. The room froze.

Then...

"Sold to Luna Mirabelle for one hundred and fifty thousand!"

Mirabelle nodded like she had expected this from the start. She turned to me, her eyes finding mine across the hall. There was no envy there. No competition. Just acknowledgment. A silent message:

I see you.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

I nodded back.

Thank you.

More applause. More flashes from cameras. More disbelief wraps itself around my ribs, warm and overwhelming.

Darlon leaned closer. "My love," he murmured.

"Yes?"

"This is what legacy feels like."

The host brought out the fourth gown. The crowd shifted forward like a tide. But before the bidding began, she held up her hand.

"Alright, everyone," she said. "Let’s continue. Please bring out the next piece."

Two more staff came forward, rolling a mannequin draped in soft champagne lace. The lights above caught the fabric, and it shimmered like something alive. I remembered fighting with that lace for four hours because it refused to sit right on the shoulder. I prayed no one could see where I almost given up.

The host smiled.

"This is ’Champagne Garden.’ Designed by Luna Elara and her team. Starting bid: sixty thousand."

For a second, no one spoke. The room just breathed.

Then a deep voice from the back responded.

"Sixty-five."

Another.

"Seventy."

A third.

"Eighty."

My heart did a strange little flip. I heard Rina whisper, almost like she was talking to herself.

"They’re actually fighting for it. Oh my goddess..."

The bids climbed higher.

Ninety.

Ninety-five.

One hundred and ten.

My body went still. I couldn’t blink.

The host raised her hand. "Do we have one hundred and ten? Yes? Wonderful. Any advances?"

Silence. Then the same Alpha from earlier, the one in the third row with the confident posture, lifted his hand again.

"One hundred and twenty thousand."

Gasps. Whispering. Chairs shifting. My skin prickled.

The host looked delighted. "Going once! Going twice! Sold to Alpha Greystorm!"

More applause. I heard my team cheering under their breath. Darlon shot me a sideways smile, the kind that held pride and something softer.

"You need to breathe," he murmured.

"I don’t think I remember how," I whispered back.

He chuckled. "Then I’ll remind you."

The next piece rolled out.

A red gown. My red gown.

I had stitched that one through anger. Through tears. Through the memory of my father telling me that design was "a hobby for children, not a future for a Luna." I had finished it anyway.

When the spotlight hit it, the fabric seemed to burn like fire without smoke. Like a declaration instead of an apology.

The host took a breath as if even she could feel it.

"This is ’Blazing Heart.’ Starting bid: eighty thousand."

The first voice came immediately.

"Ninety."

"Hundred."

"One twenty."

"One fifty."

I froze.

One fifty.

Like it was nothing.

Darlon’s fingers brushed mine under the table. Not holding. Just grounding. His thumb pressed once, like he was saying: See? You are not small.

The bids kept rising.

One seventy.

One eighty.

Two hundred.

The room fell quiet again, the kind of quiet people make right before they do something reckless. Or expensive.

A woman in a milky white gown spoke without even raising her hand. Her voice was calm. Controlled.

"Two hundred and twenty."

Someone from the opposite side of the hall responded instantly.

"Two-forty."

The woman’s jaw tightened. "Two-sixty."

"Two-eighty."

The air felt like lightning that had nowhere to go.

Finally, the woman stood. Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just with certainty.

"Three hundred thousand."

You could have heard a needle drop.

Janae slapped a hand over her mouth. My body wouldn’t move. I didn’t know if I was breathing or simply remembering what oxygen felt like.

The host was practically glowing.

"Going once," she breathed. "Going twice... sold at three hundred thousand."

Applause hit like a wave.

I didn’t stand. I couldn’t. My knees felt like water. My eyes burned.