My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas
Chapter 67: How to be a millionaire ( Emiliano’s POV )

Chapter 67: How to be a millionaire ( Emiliano’s POV )

The bubbly Tom I’ve met was long gone, leaving behind a beast raging at his mouth.

Mark chuckled. While retreating with his overly stuffed plate of staring seafood on a secluded couch in the back of the room, his voice echoed:

"I am out. See you at the after party!"

Claus cleared his throat and banged his hammer once again as if it would break the mockery of reality:

"Ten billion from Caleb Plutus. Does anyone want to give more?"

The crowd mumbled disapprovingly, amplifying the entitled smirk of Plutus’s bank nepo baby.

"Aren’t you gonna bid anymore?" I asked Tom.

I found a guilty pleasure in making his forehead vein pulse so clearly. I doubt he found my remark funny.

I shook my head disappointed. Amateurs.

Claus sighed before attempting to close the bid.

"Ten billion, once, twice-"

"Twenty."

"Huh?"

"Twenty billion."

Despite my initial plan being just to observe, what kind of husband would I be if I let my wife fall victim to a spoiled punctured idiot?

My voice vibrated clearly among the guests, ordering a moment of silence before the mass revolt.

"Nobody has that kind of money to dispose of so easily!", an elderly alpha protested.

"Who is this guy anyway?" another voice asked hidden in the shadows.

"I’ve never seen him before!" replied another.

"How?" asked Tom dryly dismissing the loud crowd.

"Nobody said the money should be clean, right?"

Claus gulped.

"No. The provenance of the money is irrelevant as long as they are paid by the end of tomorrow."

The addict tried his best to throw a table, but his frail, vein-popped arms were incapable of moving the massive wooden table, leaving the entire scene feeling pathetic and pitiful instead of powerfully enraged.

When he finally gave up, he tried to conceal his shallow breaths by smashing the food plates on the floor in one clumsy move.

"You don’t have the money! You don’t have the money!" he started yelling.

Yelling is an overstatement. It was more of a constipated dog sound muffled in tears and spit flying as the words came out.

My God.

Modern aristocracy at its finest.

"Then twenty billion to —"

"Elliot."

Tom completed Claus’s sentence. In contrast with his growl reaction at Caleb, he seemed rather defeated now.

He didn’t make any eye contact, keeping his gaze grounded with his head hanging down.

His spine was upright and his posture flawless.

The dynamics of his body gave the impression he was searching for a bug on the floor, not losing the auction he worked so hard to win.

"Twenty billion for Mister Elliot. Once. Twice. Sold!"

Faint applause rang in the living room. The bidding left a bitter taste in everyone’s mouth.

"Mister Elliot, please explore your connection with the other guests and choose the ones you will invite to the after-party. Please take into consideration the bidding invitees primarily, but feel free to bring whoever you’re interested in as well!"

"No need. I know who I’ll invite already."

Claus took a moment to regain control of the situation. He was taken aback by my lack of interest in whatever benefits the other alphas could have offered for an hour with my wife.

He arranged his tie mindlessly.

"Then, would you mind coming to the stage to say their names?"

I nodded.

Before making my way through the mumbling public, I threw a teasing wink in Tom’s direction. Regardless of his stoic posture, still searching for the bug- I am sure he catches it.

While walking between the sweaty, displeased bunch of aristocrats, faint pleas echoed left and right, increasingly more senseless and desperate as I was reaching the podium.

"Elli, I can invest in your crypto for sure. Let’s talk business at the after party."

"You’re young. Let an old man show how an omega is properly broken."

"Elliot, French name. Let’s do an Eiffel Tower, dude!"

My God.

Without their money, these b-st-rds will be the first to fall victim to the male loneliness epidemic. And I can see why!

Luther, babe, you’re lucky your husband is so good to you.

I just saved you from an ocean of degenerates! Yet, you’ll never know—

Am I a hero or what?

Of course, because of your price, my gardens will be open twenty-four hours a day. My poor weeds are going to be overwatered.

But good days are coming for all of us.

All I need is a way to stabilize Luther’s blood enough to be compressed into pills.

I’ll use Killian or Lucrezia to put the component in their heat and rut suppressant.

Luther offered them, before all the kidnapping deal took place, a contract so that the state would buy all their suppressants to assure everyone benefits from free pheromone care for all social classes no matter the financial status.

And so, they are the perfect middleman for my natural selection to spread and conquer.

If everything goes accordingly ( and it will ), all omegas should become toxic in a matter of weeks, forcing every alpha to either adapt or die.

So, even if I need to overwork the weed omega I have in my care to regain my investment from tonight, their sacrifice will surely be appreciated by the newborn society I will create.

And every one of these disgusting scums will be dead.

The walk towards the podium took years of my life. All the filthy, greedy, desperate pleas turned my stomach into a painful knot.

Nonetheless, here I was-

The microphone waiting to announce the names of the ones I will need.

That I will use.

The ones who really thought they had a chance to take my wife away from me.

I cleared my voice, enjoying the thick tension that was squashing the crowd.

"Tom. Killian Akna. Claus Sant- wait, you’re a Wilkers now, right? Claus Wilkers."

"That’s all?", Claus asked breathlessly.

"Yes. I invited Tom, because I can’t read him yet, but you two? It will be like a reunion between friends?"

I could feel the crowd getting restless. A faint protest hovered over the sea of alphas.

I couldn’t help but smile.

"I don’t know you!", Killian said harshly.

"Neither do I." , Claus confirmed.

I sighed theatrically. A wig and some contacts were enough to fool them all.

How disappointing.

I slowly removed my blonde wig, letting it fall on the platform. The contacts were removed as well with precision and care.

I took my time as the gasps grew louder and louder.

The moment I released my real hair, letting it hit my back in one swift move, every single face of that audience drained of its color.

I could hear someone whispering to himself on the rhythm of accelerated heartbeats:

"Emiliano-"

I smiled at them.

"Imagine my surprise when I found out my already married wife- you know, married as in married to me. Already belonging to me- was sold by his father to a bunch of alphas."

I pressed my hand against my chest.

Swiped a tear from the corner of my eye.

"It must mean that daddy-in-law doesn’t approve of me. What could a poor husband like me do? I know just how deeply my pup is scared of his father. Where is he anyway?"

I looked around, yet no trace of Cassian could be seen. Just a guilty looking Claus, shaking uncontrollably.

Interesting.

"So I came here to win. To pay. To officially switch the owners from Cassian to me. I must admit, I was really surprised by the price."

I chuckled. As I leaned more in, the alphas all seemed to take a step back. Except Tom. He didn’t move.

Not an inch. Not even blinking.

Creepy brat.

"I was not expecting Plutus’ brat to be so disruptive. You, not only bid with money you don’t have, but you poured champagne on me and didn’t even apologize. Such poor manners for the biggest bank prince!"

"S-s-sorry" he stumbled into his own words.

"S-s-sorry", I mimicked him dismissively. "Now, an interesting fact about Plutus Bank. It appeared about a decade ago and took over any other competitors. Have you ever wondered why?"

"No, please, please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please. I beg of you. Please, please, please!"

"Oh, I love that song. Are you a Sabrina fan too?"

His pathetic cries didn’t mean anything to me. It was all a way to shield his father’s company from the consequences of his actions. Sadly, his daddy will surely make sure to teach his son manners after they proceed to go bankrupt.

"As I was saying, one investor took the risk and poured every cent of his money into the Plutus corporation. Can anybody guess who?"

Silence. Well, this is no fun.

"You all would have sucked on Who wants to be a millionaire. The answer is me! Obviously!"

I loosen my tie. Tough crowd tonight.

"So, dear Caleb, when you were pouring money and threatening to pop the cherry on a public display, you were playing with my money. I can’t take a risk with such a poor bank account security. Look at you!"

On my command, all the heads turned in his direction, drowning him in the attention he so desperately searched just a few moments ago.

He tried to clean himself up, yet his suit was wrinkled and stained with food. At his feet was nothing but a waste of food and expensive silverware. Even the carbs and lobsters thrown on the ground seemed to judge him at that moment.

I could only imagine the sheer panic and heart drop he experienced.

After all, in just a few hours he destroyed the very company his father worked on for a decade. His status. His wealth. His name. His future.

He became what he should have been since the start-

nothing.

"Security!", Claus said coldly.

His eyes didn’t even bother to cast in the poor kid’s direction. An unemotional order.

That’s it.

That’s how fast they dispose of you in this world. All I needed to do was launch a statement into the air and they destroyed him.

No proof. Nothing.

Have I even invested in that bank? Who knows?

Either way, their reputation is gone. No one will ever do business with them again.

How very sad.

The security pulled Caleb into the air, dragging him as he screamed and begged for mercy.

I really do hope he got to enjoy that 1970s Merlot, since they will probably have trouble affording to put food on their table in the future.

The good news is that now the empty tables will be so light, he might actually be able to turn one upside down in a fit of rage.

And he will have plenty, the withdrawal from the drugs he was using are brutal.

I should know. I’ve designed them that way.

"Now, now, let’s focus. I would like to believe each and everyone of you saw that my acquisition of Luther was fair and square. Right?"

Reluctantly, the crowd approved. It was only natural.

After all, who would want to be kicked out together with -

I forgot his name. The kid with the bank, whatever his name might have been.

"Good. Glad I got to see you, guys!"

"Excuse me."

Tom interrupted, leaving everyone to shift uncomfortably, scared of whatever was coming next.

Only the lawyer remained unbothered, finally out of his search for the bug.

Did he find it? Did he squash it? Was there even a bug there to begin with?

Questions, questions. Tom seems to be full of them.

"Yes?"

"Who the f-ck are you?"

Oh. How aggressive.

"Seems like our friend Tom chose the option to ask the public. Does the public care to answer? You, the bald guy with the red tie!"

The alpha started to tremble in sweat, muttering words barely audible:

"Biggest garden owner of the underground."

"Bzzzt! Wrong. Next one. You, the grandpa with the green hair. You seem like a fun little Santa’s helper. Help your buddy out! Who am I?"

The old man gulped loudly to the verge of crying.

"The only surgeon that can perform secondary gender switches."

"Bzzzzt! Wrong again. Guys, guys, focus on tonight’s events. Let’s try again! You with the golden suit!"

"The main investor in Plutus Bank? Crypto currency?"

Tears were rolling down his face while his tight yellow pants were threatening to turn orange from a leak of body fluids.

I shook my head disappointed.

"No, no, no. Look! You’re making your friend wait for a simple answer! Don’t sabotage him like that! Mark, would you be kind enough to answer?"

Mark, unnoticed so far, was still eating slowly off his plate of seafood. He chewed slowly and swallowed before answering:

"You are Emiliano, Luther’s husband."

"Ding ding ding! We have a winner!"

Nonetheless, Tom didn’t seem amused in the slightest. So picky with his reality shows!

"Why is everyone so afraid of you, Blondie?"

This guy was something else.

Standing with his hands crossed, unafraid to look me in the eyes- an unpredictable piece.

But where should I exactly place him?

Use him? Dispose of him? Tame him?

Decisions. Decisions.

"I don’t know, Tommy dear. I am such a sweet sweet person, aren’t I?"

The crowd rushed to approve and nod along.

Jaws clenched. Eyes darted to the floor, to the walls, anywhere but at me. Some nodded too fast, desperate to prove compliance. Others nodded too slow, like the weight of their fear made even that motion feel dangerous. The sound of shifting feet and the faint rustle of suits filled the silence, a pathetic orchestra of cowards trying not to be next.

If self-preservation had a rhythm, it would be this.

Tom scoffed and gave me one last bitter look before leaving. The echo of his voice was left behind:

"See you at the after-party!"