"Urgh..."


    Helen had calmed down but snorted as Frank was shing her a cheeky smile. "Yeah, yeah. You did good, getting us anotherpany. But you''re the one who just threw it at us without needing to do anything while any problems would fall back on me! Do you think I can deal with two majorpanies at the same time?"


    "Well, you know what they say-those who can are always busy. That''s my girl for you-she''s always amazing." Frank shrugged, confirming that he would be goofing off.


    Helen rolled her eyes at him, exasperated.


    Vicky Turnbull called in the afternoon, teasing, "Did you know that you''re on the news? Sliding down a falling building... That''s so cool. Still, something''scking-you should''ve been holding a babe like Helen in your arms while you did so."


    "Ahem..." Frank rubbed his nose awkwardly. "Stop teasing me. Why did you call me?"


    "Oh, it''s nothing important." Vicky smiled. "I heard you''re acquainted with Gene Pearce?"


    "I guess. What, is something up?" Frank raised a brow.


    "Yeah. He''s organizing a charity auction after recovering from his illness, inviting many bigwigs of the east coast, and it will be held in Zamri."


    "A charity auction?"


    Frank did a double take. "I wasn''t aware."


    "We were just informed too. It''s next week, so I guess he didn''t have time to inform you."


    Pausing, Vicky giggled. "Since you know Gene Pearce, that makes things simple-send my best regards to him. He helped my parents establish a foothold in Riverton years ago." "Alright, I will." Frank nodded.


    They spent time catching upter-Vicky''s face had mostly healed, and Frank was relieved.


    Fortunately, her facial injury was not that serious, or it would take months for him to recover. "Charity auction?"


    Frank tapped his fingers repeatedly on the table thoughtfully.


    Since it was a charity auction, he should bring something worth bidding for, if only for Vicky''s sake.


    With that in mind, he told Helen that he would be going out.


    There was a street in West Zamri called Blooming Junction, where various antiques ranging from paintings to porcin objects were sold.


    Frank decided he would buy some quality antiques to represent Vicky.


    Blooming Junction was bustling and lively-there were plenty of antique collectors and sellers flocking together unboxing items and bargaining, and it was more lively than Riverton''s Square Street.


    However, there was another rule that Frank was aware of: on this street, the identification of an item''s


    authenticity depended entirely on


    one''s own ability.


    If one bought a counterfeit item, they just had to ept the defeat-there was a no refund policy here.


    In fact, Frank could already see


    several disgruntled customers whoThis text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    had bought counterfeit items being


    dragged away by the security guards.


    "Sir, have youe to check out our wares?"


    Just as Frank strode in, an old gray-haired man appeared out of nowhere, baring his yellow teeth in a grin as he tugged on Frank''s sleeve.