?Chapter 1708:


    Gillian quickly came to Christina’s defense, her tone firm. “Miss Jones would never copy someone else’s work. I believe in her.” She caught the low hum rippling through the gathering and shifted her gaze toward Bain, speaking with earnest conviction. “Mr. Jones, you need to have faith in her. She would nevermit something so vile.”


    La’s gaze snapped toward Gillian, sharp and cial. Behind herposed mask, she dismissed her as nothing more than a tterer — certain that Gillian had her sights set on Bain’s fortune and a coveted ce among the elite. Any woman foolish enough topete with her for the title of Mrs. Jones earned La’s contempt. Her jaw tightened, a glint of malice flickering in her eyes.


    “I trust Bonnie as well,” La said, her words deliberately edged with doubt, “but the likeness is far too striking…” Could Christina be Wyvena — the most celebrated artist alive? The very idea sounded absurd.


    “And what of it?” Bain flung a frost-bitten look in La’s direction.


    A tremor ran through her, and she dropped her gaze at once. Jaxen moved quickly to diffuse the tension, his voice smoothed into practiced calm. “It’s likely nothing more than coincidence. Bonnie should be given the benefit of the doubt.” When Bain’s expression eased even slightly, Jaxen let out a quiet breath of relief.


    The Jones family’s favoritism toward Christina was unmistakable — they allowed no criticism of her, even when truth might have lurked beneath it. Then again, the more treasured Christina became within the family, the more valuable she was as a match. Jaxen reasoned that marrying her would ce the Jones family’s wealth and power squarely in his hands.


    Still illuminated beneath the stage lights, Violette spoke with a pleasant smile. “You may not recognize her. She’s some distant rtive of the Jones family. Who would have guessed a household like theirs could harbor an imitator?”


    The room erupted in shocked murmurs as guests exchanged incredulous looks.


    “Impossible! A copycat connected to the Jones family?”


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    “They actually tolerate that? First mimicking a master painter — next it’ll be their own vaults. Who knows?”


    “With morals like that, there’s no limit to what she might attempt.”


    The whispers died the moment Bain’s gaze swept across the room, cold and deadly. The atmosphere stiffened. Heads bowed. Eyes darted away. To invite the wrath of the Jones family was a price none of them were willing to pay.


    The Wade siblings, stationed beside Bain, felt humiliation scorch through them. If it ever became public that Christina was Bain’s biological sister, both the Jones and Wade families would be tainted by the disgrace. Should Jaxen take her as his wife, the Wade name would be aughingstock in high society. Christina would be branded a copycat, mocked wherever she appeared.


    Bain stepped forward, his eyes hard as ice. “No one has the right to judge a Jones!”


    Not a single person dared meet his stare, though bitterness simmered beneath the silence. The thought that Lionesspaw’s most distinguished family could produce a giarist struck many as grimly ironic.


    Alban let out a lowugh, his smile sharp as a curved de. “Your family truly defies expectations, Bain.” His gaze lifted to Christina on the stage. “Miss Jones has certainly left an impression. Her execution is so precise she can mirror Wyvena’s work down to every single stroke.”


    The praise rang hollow, its hidden sting unmistakable — Christina was being painted as nothing more than a copyist, a stain upon the Jones family’s name.


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