?Chapter 1706:


    Both artworks saw their numbers surge upward, the amounts running neck and neck as the auction intensified.


    Violette’s piece climbed to fifty million, and an abrupt hush swept the room as no one dared push beyond it. Those bidding to show support for the Hewitt family had nearly reached their limit, firmly believing the painting did not justify a higher figure. If not for its value as a collectible, they would never have stretched to fifty million in the first ce. At heart, the purchase was a gesture of phnthropy — one that bought reputation while still leaving room for future gains.


    “Any offers for Lone Boat at Sea?”


    “Fifty million, first call. Fifty million, second call. Fifty million, final call — sold!”


    Violette’s painting was hammered down at fifty million. A faint curve lifted her lips as she looked toward Christina, her eyes carrying both victory and challenge. Her artwork had struck fifty million ahead of the other, while Christina’s still hovered at forty-eight million. She was convinced Christina’s work would never surpass hers — at best, it might crawl to forty-nine million.


    “Are there any more offers for Peaceful Pathway?” the host asked.


    “Forty-nine million,” a voice answered, freezing the room for a brief moment.


    “Fifty million!” another bidder called out, driving the number up.


    Violette seethed. How dare they force the price to match hers? Did they have no concern about provoking the formidable Martel family backing her?


    Silence returned, thick with uncertainty and temptation. They hesitated — fearful of angering the Martels, yet drawn to Christina’s painting, fully aware of its extraordinary value as a collectible. The piece even carried echoes of the technique associated with Wyvena, the greatest painting genius alive. If Christina were not so young, some might have sworn she herself was Wyvena — though Wyvena had never shown their face publicly, and the true identity of this master remained shrouded in mystery.


    Just when it seemed the bidding would settle at fifty million, someone barked through clenched teeth, “Fifty-one million!”


    That bold challenge broke the tension, and others quickly followed, lifting the price higher still. Most striking of all, the bidder who shattered the fifty-million ceiling maintained a long-standing alliance with the Martel family — if he showed no fear, why should the rest hold back? Paddles shot up in frantic session.


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    Violette burned with such rage she felt she might crack a tooth. She had expected a draw to sting badly enough, but watching the gap widen felt like a direct blow. These people were beyond infuriating.


    She held Wyvena in profound reverence and could inly recognize the prodigy’s shadow within Christina’s work — yet she would never concede that Christina had surpassed her. In her mind, the painting was nothing more than hollow mimicry, devoid of any individual voice. An imitator without originality did not deserve to stand beside her. Such a giarist was unfit forparison.


    Her hands curled tight as she resolved to crush Christina — to drive this contemptible copyist into the ground and ensure her own triumph stood absolute. She drew in several slow breaths, her mood steadying, and let a sly smile surface. They were wee to bid without restraint. When Christina was lifted to the highest point, the copse would be all the more devastating — and this time, the Jones family would be dragged into the disgrace along with her.


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