?Chapter 82:


    Luca’stest jab hit its mark, and Luciano’s patience snapped, his rage rising like a tide ready to crash. “Luca! What is that supposed to mean? How exactly am I the fraud here?”


    Luca didn’t flinch. He lifted a brow, voice drenched in sarcasm. “Come on, Luciano. You know exactly what you pulled. Why act dumb now?”


    While Luciano seethed, barely keeping himself together, Luca lounged in ce, unbothered and smug. Luca’s taunting stare bore down on Luciano like a weight, making it harder to breathe with each second.


    Luciano shifted ufortably. Had the truth slipped through, exposing his act? Impossible. He’d covered every angle—no one could’ve found out! The ghost painter he controlled was paralyzed with fear, far too scared to ever expose him.


    Just as Luciano tried to steady his racing thoughts, Elliana spoke in an even, unshaken tone. “People keep asking why I decided to join the Starry Oil Painting Competition. The answer’s simple—I refuse to stay silent while frauds in the art world keep lying to the public and abusing their influence.”


    A murmur of confusion spread through the crowd, but the judges exchanged knowing looks—they understood immediately.


    Luca let out a heavy breath. “You always kept your distance from Ublento’s art circle. I hate that its filth is what finally pulled you in.” The other judges gave solemn nods, their faces tight with embarrassment. “It never urred to us that you’d be the one forced to clean up the mess guing Ublento’s art world…”


    Seeing these revered judges bow their heads to Elliana, the crowd exchanged baffled looks, struggling toprehend the shift. Was this the same Elliana who’d once been cast aside as worthless? When had she be a figure these titans of art treated with deference?


    Luciano, cornered and unraveling, lost his grip and hissed at the judges, “Enough with your cryptic games, you old fools! If you’ve got something to say, say it!”


    The judges answered as one, their eyes sharp with contempt.


    Luca let out a derisive snort. “Luciano, the truth is right there in Lonely Sunset. If you can’t recognize it, then there’s only one exnation—you’ve never understood oil painting at all. You’re aplete fraud.”


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    The crowd burst into chaos.


    “Hold on—what? Luciano knows nothing about oil painting?”


    “But he’s won dozens of awards!”


    “He’s the president of the Calligraphers and Painters Association! He’s supposed to be a master! What the hell is Luca saying?”


    “Luca pointed to Lonely Sunset—but what answer is he even talking about?”


    The growing murmurs swept through the crowd like a tide, prickling down Luciano’s spine.


    Noticing the shift, Paige gently released Luciano’s sleeve and inched backward, quietly creating space between them as if distancing herself from a crumbling monument.


    A voice suddenly rang out from the crowd—sharp, impatient. “Mr. Wilde, what is it? Just spit it out already and end the suspense!”


    “Come on, out with it already!”


    Luca flicked a nce at Elliana. When she gave no sign to stop him, he stepped forward and dered, “The answer is simple. Lonely Sunset is an original Rosa piece.”


    The crowd exploded—louder, more chaotic than ever.


    “What the hell?”


    “Wait—hold on. If Lonely Sunset is a Rosa original, and we all saw Elliana paint it, does that mean Elliana is Rosa?”


    “No way! This is unreal! How does aplete nobody suddenly turn into a legend?”


    The audience’s reaction was electric. Luciano and Paige stood rooted to the spot, faces nk with shock.


    “You’ve got to be kidding!” Paige broke the silence first, yelling over the uproar. “Elliana’s been rotting away in some dusty shed behind the Jones family’s house! She’s a dropout who’s never touched a paintbrush in a ssroom. There’s no way in hell she’s Rosa!”


    The crowd froze, stunned into silence by her outburst.


    Luca responded with aposed smile, “I won’t specte on how Ms. Marsh came to be Rosa, but I’ll dly stake my reputation on this—Lonely Sunset is undeniably a Rosa original.”


    “We’re in full agreement. There’s no doubt Lonely Sunset was painted by Rosa,” the other judges chimed in, their voices steady and certain. The crowd stirred again, a wave of murmurs spreading as excitement reignited.


    “Every single judge confirmed it—Elliana really is Rosa!”


    “No way! That girl the Jones family always called worthless turned out to be a world-ss artist?”


    “My daughter absolutely adores Rosa—she’s obsessed!”


    Elliana didn’t move, her gaze fixed on Luciano with a half-smile that shimmered with quiet triumph.


    Luciano still hadn’t recovered from the blow.


    Elliana’s voice cut through the silence like a de. “Mr. Scott, you’ve gone on and on about how I’m your favorite artist. So why is it that you couldn’t recognize one of my paintings?”


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