?Chapter 1704:


    Gillian’s expression tightened for a moment, irritation flickering across her features, but she shifted aside without protest. In the end, she was nothing more than a member of the domestic staff — worlds apart from these people. She couldn’t follow a word of what Jaxen and Bain were saying, since they were speaking in Apreshian, but she had no interest in prying. Her attention was locked entirely on the contest unfolding on the tform.


    All preparations had beenpleted for Christina and Violette. The original n had called for oil paints, but the medium was far too time-consuming, so colored pencils had taken their ce.


    When the host gave the cue, Violette moved without hesitation. Self-assurance lit up her features, and the smile on her lips carried the quiet promise of triumph. Two cameras tracked every motion of their hands, projecting the footage onto oversized disys divided down the middle, allowing the crowd to follow each participant’s progress side by side.


    Violette’s hand flew across the page. Christina remained motionless, eyes fixed on the nk sheet before her.


    “What’s going on with her? Why is she just sitting there? Does she even know how to draw?”


    “Maybe she’s nning theposition in her mind first. She wouldn’t have epted the wager if she had no idea what she was doing.”


    “nning? She’s been sitting there for ages without touching the paper. Look at Violette — she’s already well underway.”


    The audience stared at the live feed, barely daring to breathe, quietly wishing someone could rush the stage and scrawl something — anything — onto the empty page.


    Violette cast a nce toward Christina and saw that nothing had changed. The curve of her lips deepened with smug satisfaction. “So you really don’t know how to draw, do you?” sheughed, her tone dripping with ridicule.


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    Christina said nothing. Violette’s grin sharpened. “If it’s beyond you, you can always admit defeat.”


    Christina turned her head slowly and met her gaze, aposed smile resting on her lips, a quiet authority radiating from her stillness. “Losing?” she said lightly. “That word doesn’t exist for me.”


    She had epted the challenge — backing down had never been an option.


    Under the gaze of the entire room, Christina finally lifted a colored pencil and set it to the page. Her movements were unhurried and controlled. The lines came swiftly, clean and exact,manding the eye from the very first stroke.


    The crowd fell into stunned silence, then drew a collective breath.


    “Her fundamentals are terrifyingly solid. Her hand is as steady as a machine.”


    “This is unreal. Those skills are on another level entirely.”


    “I thought Violette was the real professional, but Christina is operating on apletely different tier. She’s the true master.”


    Murmurs rippled through the room, every gaze pulling toward Christina. On the stage, Violette kept her proud smile in ce — but she could feel the attention slipping away from her, surprise and unease coiling quietly in her chest. Wasn’t Christina supposed to be hopeless at this? Why was the crowd staring at her as though they were witnessing something extraordinary?


    Violette stole another nce and went rigid. Despite the dyed start, Christina had already closed the gap. If this pace continued, Violette knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up.


    She clenched her jaw and forced herself to move faster, careful not to let a single error through. Drawing in several slow breaths, she reminded herself that Christina’s connection to the Jones family was unknown to the crowd. Even if Christina’s drawing turned out to be better, no one would dare bid too boldly on it — not with the Hewitt and Martel families in the room. That thought steadied her nerves, and the smile returned to her face.


    There was no way she could lose to Christina.


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