?Chapter 1705:


    La stood among the spectators, frozen in disbelief. She had never imagined Christina could be this extraordinary. She had genuinely assumed Christina would end up humiliating herself in front of Violette.


    Gillian watched with wide, awestruck eyes, her clear gaze gleaming with unhidden admiration. “She’s incredible,” she breathed to herself, reverence flooding her features, threaded with a quiet trace of envy. People often imed that children of affluent families were gifted in every way — and now it seemed undeniable.


    “How can Bonnie possibly be this good? Violette doesn’t stand a chance anymore,” Jaxen murmured under his breath.


    Bain wore an unmistakable look of pride, the corner of his mouth lifting in a subtle, restrained smile. That was simply how exceptional his sister was. He had always known she would never step into a battle without certainty of victory. What did it matter that Violette had earned praise from a few renowned artists? She still couldn’tpare. Being allowed topete against Christina at all was already more than Violette deserved.


    “Bonnie truly is remarkable, but the oue still hinges on the final bid,” La said, her brows knitting with concern. “These people don’t know Bonnie — all they know is that Violette is the Hewitt family’s daughter. I’m worried they’ll lean toward the Hewitts.”


    “They won’t,” Bain answered evenly. Among those present were partners tied to the Jones family. Anyone unwilling to jeopardize that cooperation would never ce a bid on Violette’s piece. And anyone with genuine taste could tell which painting was truly worth owning.


    “You’re really that confident Bonnie will take it?” La asked quietly.


    Bain’s expression darkened with displeasure. “Do you doubt her?”


    “Of course not,” La responded at once, shaking her head anxiously. “I trust Bonniepletely.”


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    Bain’s face rxed just slightly, yet he still didn’t look at her. The slight cut her deeply. He would spare nces for Gillian — a mere servant — but not grant her even one.


    As gasps of amazement continued to ripple through the ballroom, Christina set down her pencil before Violette did. When her finished work appeared on the massive screen, the room fell into stunned silence.


    Roses lined both sides of a narrow trail, guiding it from shadow into light, as though following it would lead straight toward hope itself. The realism was so striking it felt as though one could step inside — as if the viewers themselves were strolling along that path.


    “That’s a work of art,” someone breathed, and others immediately echoed the sentiment.


    “Without question. It rivals a master’s hand. Truly wless.”


    “It takes me back to my youth. Those days were beautiful.”


    “I love it. I’m definitely bidding and bringing it home.”


    Many in the crowd were already resolved topete for Christina’s painting. Only then did Violetteplete her own piece — a single vessel drifting across an immense, boundless ocean.


    “Violette’s work is quite admirable, but it doesn’tpare to the other.”


    “There’s a clear gap in their abilities. I prefer the quiet path — the lone boat feels too bleak for my taste.”


    “I disagree. The lone ship appeals to me. It feels like a traveler braving the world alone, full of resolve and courage.”


    The audience broke into animated debate, everyone holding firmly to their own perspective.


    “Both paintings are nowplete. Ladies and gentlemen, bidding may begin,” the host announced, stepping forward with the microphone. “One depicts a solitary boat upon the sea, the other a peaceful pathway. We will auction them simultaneously. The opening price for each is one hundred thousand. We’ll start with the Lone Boat.”


    “Two hundred thousand!”


    “Does anyone wish to bid on the Peaceful Pathway?”


    “Two hundred thousand!”


    Before long, the prices for both works surged past two million.


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