?Chapter 833:


    Bit by bit, the letters took shape in ink — right there on the paper. And then it was clear to everyone as the long signature revealed itself: “S. S. S.!”


    “It’s truly her!” Alice gasped and drew in a shaky breath. Her voice wavered, thick with feelings she hadn’t expected to rise up. “Chris,” she said softly, “I think your mother used the name Sophie S. Schrader when she painted. Isn’t that right?”


    “How would you know that?” Chris asked, his voice rough and strained. He locked eyes with Alice, stunned, barely able to process what he was hearing. “Did you… actually know my mother?”


    “Of course!” Alice gave a firm nod, her eyes glowing with emotion. “And it wasn’t just me — lots of collectors here, even the curator, knew your mother. Honestly, she was a legend to many of us.”


    She hadn’t even finished her sentence before the room broke into a buzz of excitement.


    “Surely you all haven’t forgotten who she is?” Alice turned to face the crowd, lifting the notebook with Chris’ handwriting high above her head. She raised her voice. “This signature — doesn’t it say it all?”


    “I just thought the woman in Maia’s painting looked familiar!” someone called out. “She seemed a bit younger than I remember, but now it’s clicking. That woman in Maia’s painting is the brilliant artist who once took all of Otruitho by storm fifteen years ago, and then disappeared like smoke — Sophia S. Schrader!”


    Alice’s voice shattered the quiet, loud and striking like a lightning bolt out of nowhere. Her eyes darted across the rows — from the stern faces of the judges to the sea of people in the crowd — before finallynding on the senior art masters seated right up front.


    In a heartbeat, those respected elders of Otruitho stood abruptly. The surprise etched on their faces and the swiftness of their reaction silenced the room as if someone had hit the mute button.


    Everyone’s attention snapped to Chris in perfect unison.


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    Grover moved ahead slowly, his voice shaky with disbelief. “Are you really the son of the painter, Sophia S. Schrader?”


    Chris winced slightly as a dull ache pulsed in his skull.


    When had his mother suddenly be a legendary figure in Otruitho’s art scene?


    Chris furrowed his brow, locked eyes with Grover, and gave a small nod.


    That tiny gesture hit the crowd like a bolt out of the blue. The signature Chris had just penned spoke volumes without a single word — it left no room for doubt.


    In the blink of an eye, the hall buzzed with gasps and hurried whispers.


    “My God! He’s actually the son of Sophia S. Schrader?”


    “No wonder! I thought the woman in that portrait rang a bell. I should’ve known the moment I saw it — must be my age catching up with me!”


    “This is unreal! You’re telling me Maia painted Sophia S. Schrader?”


    The ripple of surprise turned into a roaring tide of excitement.


    One by one, collectors jumped to their feet, clearly itching to act.


    “No wonder I felt such a pull toward this piece — it’s the legendary Sophia S. Schrader! She’s like a ghost; every time she shows up, she disappears before anyone can blink. You hardly ever see photos of her. But I think my dad admired her work — maybe he kept a picture somewhere!”<fnb915> For more chapters visit f?ndnovel</fnb915>


    “Hurry up! Everyone, dig through your things — see if you’ve got any photos of Sophia S. Schrader!”


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