The murmuring in the crowd grew louder. The auctioneer pounded his wooden mallet to try to restore order, but everyone ignored it. Sensing an advantage, Lawson straightened up and looked out at the crowd, puffing his chest out like an actor.
"That's right," he continued. "My niece's father, James Stewart, passed away after a horrible car accident when she was only fifteen. My wife and I took her in, raised her, and gave her everything she could ever want, but this is how she repaid us! She drove us out of our own home, stole my art, and now she's auctioning it off to the highest bidder."
"Drew," Sean barked into his phone. "Put an end to this."
Catherine felt her face flaming, and she slouched low in her chair. The auction guests were now standing, trying to get a look at her. She knew that the incident would be all over the society pages in the morning. People would talk about it for months—maybe even years.
"Who's Drew?" she asked Sean.
