?Chapter 818:


    While Mariana tried to regain herposure, Kiley remained at her side. Her face revealed nothing, but her eyes grew sharp as she studied Maia’s image on the screen.


    Without saying a word, she turned and began walking away, thoughts spinning about what could have drawn udius to someone like Maia.


    Seeing Kiley move off, Mariana scrambled after her.


    Neither of them noticed that Raegan, trailing behind, had turned pale, clenching her fists tightly.<fn8ab2> Official source is find?novel</fn8ab2>


    Raegan was getting her second real look at Maia. Her gaze stayed glued to the screen, where Maia’s gentle face appeared calm and collected. Each breath felt tighter, as if invisible hands were squeezing her heart.


    Not even a day earlier, Raegan had been convinced that Maia’s looks were nothing special, and her figure less remarkable than hers. This time, though…


    Bathed in the glow of every spotlight, Maia held herself with a poise that seemed to draw the gaze of all who entered. There was an undeniable strength in how she stood alone, radiating dignity and independence.


    Just seeing her walk in sent Raegan’s heart reeling, tangled in the same storm it had barely calmed from before. The thought that The Mask’s leader could have fallen for Maia swept over her all at once, pressing down on her thoughts like a sky thick with storm clouds. Raegan couldn’t stop turning the question over in her mind, wondering again and again if the leader had really fallen for Maia.


    After all, Maia’s past was marked by time behind bars. What did she have that could ever measure up to The Mask’s elusive leader?


    A mix of envy and frustration rose in Raegan, flooding her with a bitterness she struggled to push down.


    “Raegan, are you just going to stand there?” Kiley called, snapping her out of her haze. “Come on, we need to hurry!”


    That sharp nudge jolted Raegan back to her senses. She responded quickly, picking up her pace to rejoin the others.


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    Meanwhile, the staff inside had already sprung into action, ensuring every detail was perfect for what was about to unfold. Grover’s instructions led them to set up a clear space in front of the renowned painting Rebirth, cordoning off the area to prevent anyone from disturbing the contest.


    Security guards lined the perimeter at close intervals, forming a human barrier to protect the proceedings. Off to the side, the judges’ seats had been arranged in a tidy cluster, giving the panel a direct view of thepetition.


    Several audience members whispered in awe as they recognized prominent figures among the judges — acimed artists, directors from top galleries, and influential collectors. The front row boasted veteran professors from the Royal Academy of Arts in Sceibar, the Royal Art Museum’s director, the Minglewood Collectors’ Association’s president, and a handful of art bloggers whose opinions shaped the art world.


    No one could deny the weight these judges brought to the table; their presence alone promised an honest and fair contest.


    Soon enough, Mariana and her entourage crossed into thepetition area, drawing all eyes their way. Their entrance ignited a fresh wave of excitement in the crowd.


    A young fan’s voice rang out, “Mariana, you’ve got this! Your artwork always inspires me!”


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