They said it started at P900,000. A whisper of gold and provenance. A sum too small for a story so large.
But gold, like memory, doesn’t stay quiet for long.
At Leon Gallery’s Magnificent September Auction—timed, perhaps too perfectly, with the 68th birthday of the son of the man who once wore the crown of power—a certain wristwatch walked into the room and rearranged the air.
Lot 28.
An 18k yellow gold Rolex Oyster Perpetual Day-Date.
Not a timepiece. A timekeeper.
It carried more than hours—it carried names, alliances, and the scent of backroom smoke. It was not just telling time. It was telling on time.
The auctioneer’s voice rose like a sermon, and before the gavel could catch its breath, the price had climbed to P9 million.
The crowd knew. History was on the block, wearing a champagne dial and the fluted bezel of empire.
The watch was once in the possession of one who stood close—so very close—to the man whose signature is now engraved on the back. A gift of trust.
leon Gallery withheld the name of the consigor, But time, as they say, eventually whispers secrets.
But the experts confirmed its pedigree: born of a circle so tight it left marks. The “Rolex 12,” they called them—twelve men who stood at the hinge of the nation’s turning, who midwifed Martial Law with firm hands and fewer questions.
Each was said to have received one of these golden wrists, as though power could be passed like inheritance—or infection.
And what of the number? Lot 28.
Divisible by 7, the late strong man’s favorite number. A quiet wink from the beyond, if you believe in such things. If you don’t—well, coincidence is just another kind of ghost.
This wasn’t just a watch. It was a relic. A rumor. A reckoning.
It ticked not in seconds, but in silence, and when it sold, it wasn’t for time—it was for what time once dared to hide.
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