The Price of a Second

"Wait... what?" Carter muttered, his phone shaking slightly in his grip. The live stream was still running, and the comments were suddenly scrolling at breakneck speed—no longer mocking Julian, but questioning what was unfolding.

"This is ridiculous," one of Carter’s friends whispered, slowly lowering his camera. "Bro... is that Marcus Sterling? The Managing Director of the entire luxury district?"

Marcus didn’t turn around. He signaled two broad-shouldered security officers stationed by the entrance. "Gentlemen, kindly ensure all recording devices are secured. Unapproved commercial filming inside the Vance Vault is a direct violation of federal privacy agreements signed at the door."

"You can’t touch my phone!" Carter stammered, stepping back. The bravado that had puffed up his chest drained out in seconds. "My father is Arthur Hayes! He sits on your regional board! We spend hundreds of thousands here!"

Julian stepped forward, his expression unchanged. There was no petty triumph on his face, no gloating grin. Just the quiet weight of someone who knew the exact value of everything around him—and the emptiness of it without substance.

"Your father owns five percent of an auxiliary logistics firm contracted by our manufacturing line, Carter," Julian stated calmly. "He worked thirty years to earn that seat. And you use his hard work as a prop to humiliate strangers on the internet."

Julian reached out and pointed toward the display case between them. "Do you know what makes this specific watch worth a million dollars?"