The moment the words left her mouth, the atmosphere inside the auction hall shifted completely.
"About two days ago, someone sent me a tip-off," Vicki said calmly, her voice amplified through the sound system, "which showed that Ethan International Shipping Company had recently received a huge sum of assets from an unknown source—more than fifty million US dollars. However, no corresponding records could be found in any publicly disclosed financial statements."
The crowd stirred. Fifty million was not pocket change. Even for Gotham's elite, that number carried weight.
Vicki did not pause. Now that the veil had been lifted, she began to reconstruct the entire scheme from the very beginning, step by step, leaving no room for confusion.
"According to the informant, this fifty million dollars was dirty money. Its true source was the leader of a criminal organization operating in Gotham. For reasons we still don't fully know, that organization needed the money laundered as quickly as possible."
A faint murmur rippled through the hall.
"And everyone in Gotham knows one thing very clearly," Vicki continued, her tone sharp, "there is only one place where money like that can be washed clean without raising suspicion—the Iceberg Lounge."
At the mention of that name, several bidders instinctively stiffened.
"Penguin never turns down business," she said bluntly. "So he arranged for this dirty money to be laundered through tonight's auction. The method was simple: auction a low-cost fake diamond at an absurdly high price. And for that purpose, he chose Ethan International Shipping Company as the tool."
She raised her hand slightly, as if drawing an invisible line in the air.
"On the surface, Ethan International Shipping Company appears legitimate, with clean books and no scandals. But in reality, it is nothing more than one of Penguin's shell companies."
Gasps spread openly now.
At that moment, Vicki turned her head and looked directly at the man in handcuffs.
"Grayle Tartard Ethan," she said clearly, "general manager of Ethan International Shipping Company. You are nothing more than a puppet under Penguin—someone specifically responsible for carrying out money laundering activities on his behalf."
Grayle Tartard's face tightened.
"The so-called 'Pink Dream' was never truly yours," Vicki continued. "You merely acted as the agent presenting it at the auction. You were never its owner."
Her voice grew colder.
"Once the 'Pink Dream' was sold at a sky-high price close to fifty million dollars, Penguin's client would receive clean, laundered money. That was the entire plan."
She then shifted her gaze toward another corner of the hall.
"To ensure the auction went exactly as planned, Penguin also sent one of his most trusted subordinates—Lack Fane, manager of the Iceberg Casino—to participate as a bidder."
Every role now sat plainly in the open.
The logic was horrifyingly simple.
The criminal client transferred fifty million dollars in illegal assets to Penguin's shell—Ethan International Shipping Company. Grayle Tartard handled the transaction on the surface. Lack entered the auction as a bidder to push the price upward in a controlled manner. Once sold, the dirty money became legitimate auction proceeds.
Clean. Legal. Untouchable.
Cicero's role was equally clear: he ensured that the fake diamond entered the auction without issue.
And if some unlucky—or lucky—billionaire genuinely fell in love with the "Pink Dream" and outbid Lack?
Then Penguin would simply step aside.
He would gain fifty million dollars for free.
As for laundering the original funds already transferred into the company's accounts?
For Penguin, that was trivial. He had countless methods to transform illegal money into spotless capital.
Throughout the entire process, Penguin never appeared once.
And yet, Penguin was everywhere.
"So the pink diamond was never treasure," someone whispered in the crowd. "It was just a tool…"
"And with so many synthetic gems hidden in Cicero's office," another voice added, "how many illegal deals are buried underneath all this?"
Fear crept into the bidders' expressions.
"I almost bought that thing," a man muttered, pale. "Its quality was insane. What if I'd really paid fifty million for a fake diamond? I… I don't even want to think about it."
A sharp, cold snort cut through the noise.
"Hmph!"
Grayle Tartard Ethan lifted his head, his eyes burning with anger as he glared at Vicki.
"Vicki Vale!" he snapped. "What you're saying sounds very convincing—but where is your proof?"
His voice echoed sharply.
"I swear to God that Ethan International Shipping Company has no illegal remittances whatsoever. Our accounts are transparent, open to investigation at any time."
He leaned forward slightly, chains clinking.
"You accuse me of being a shell for criminals? You claim I work for Penguin? That is defamation. An insult to my character. I have absolutely no connection to him!"
He raised his voice even higher.
"And you say the 'Pink Dream' is fake just because some hotel manager had a bag of glass beads? Kaito Kid stole the diamond! I lost the world's largest pink diamond! I am the victim here!"
His eyes swept across the hall.
"So tell me—why am I the one in handcuffs? Is this what Gotham's taxpayers pay the GCPD for? To frame innocent businessmen?"
He sneered.
"Vicki Vale. Jim Gordon. Expect to hear from my lawyer."
The confidence in his tone made the crowd waver.
He was right about one thing.
So far, there was no hard evidence.
Ethan International Shipping Company had a spotless reputation. No scandals. No accusations. The sudden transformation into a criminal shell felt… abrupt.
Maybe he really was being framed.
"I didn't think you had it in you," Lack whispered beside him, a crooked smile on his lips. "You shut that woman down pretty cleanly."
"Say less," Grayle Tartard murmured back. "This isn't over."
But Vicki did not flinch.
"You think I don't have evidence?" she said coolly. "Grayle Tartard—look at this."
She set the bag of fake gems aside, reached into her coat, and pulled out a slender black device.
She raised it high.
It was a recorder.
The same recorder Kaito Kid had thrown to her moments earlier.
Grayle Tartard frowned. From where he stood, he couldn't see the screen clearly.
But he didn't need to.
Because the voice that followed was unmistakable.
"Today's auction has been completely ruined. Mr. Penguin's transaction is almost impossible to proceed normally… It was Ogilvy. Penguin sent him to negotiate this deal with me…"
The hall fell into dead silence.
It was Cicero's voice.
The recording continued—a clear confession, detailing his dealings with Penguin and how he had been coerced into cooperating.
"You actually dared to betray us?!"
Grayle Tartard and Lack snapped their heads toward Cicero at the same time. Their expressions twisted, especially Lack's, whose eyes burned with naked murderous intent.
Cicero stood motionless.
Since Robin had dragged him into the hall, he hadn't spoken once. His face was blank, his eyes hollow, as if the world around him no longer mattered.
He didn't even react to their stares.
Then, another recording played.
This time, a woman's voice.
"There's still plenty of time before that fake stone appears. Don't forget—I've worked under the boss far longer than you. As long as I don't want to, no one will ever hear my voice."
Lack's face froze.
The color drained from it instantly.
Grayle Tartard slowly turned his head. First to Cicero. Then to Lack.
And for the first time since the auction began—
He said nothing at all.
The silence that followed was heavier than any accusation.
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