On the main feed, the camera zoomed in tightly on the woman in red as she moved through the crowd. In the far corner of the frame, a man in the back row straightened in his seat, an unfamiliar face.
Lu Ting Cheng's brow furrowed. "She's not alone."
"No," Zi Zhen replied, voice low. "And neither is Ghost."
Another camera feed in the corner of the screen showed a man in a charcoal suit taking a seat. His posture looked casual, but two men shadowing him began to split, one moving toward the stage, the other slipping toward the eastern exit.
"That's a pincer," Lu Ting Cheng said.
Zi Zhen's tone stayed icy. "Not tonight it isn't."
---
8:52 PM – Stage Prep
Behind the curtains, the auction staff scrambled.
In Lot 76's case, a tempered glass display lined with velvet was wheeled forward. Two guards stood on either side, but the tension in their stance said they knew the stakes.
One of them glanced at the other. "Have you ever seen it in person?"
