?Chapter 1715:


    The room froze in disbelief, the shock taking a moment to settle before reality finally sank in.


    “Is she really Wyvena? Or did I mishear?”


    “Mr. Burton verified it himself. If he says it’s her, then it’s her. He’s among the most authoritative art appraisers alive.”


    “Iughed at the buyer for being clueless, and now I’m the real fool. He bought a Wyvena painting for only a hundred million. That’s a windfall!”


    Soft murmurs rippled through the crowd, jealousy and bitterness threading through their voices as their gazes slid toward Harold. The very people who had ridiculed him moments ago now wished the floor would swallow them whole, their faces burning with shame.


    Harold had never been foolish. He possessed sharp judgment and had secured a once-in-a-lifetime acquisition. Had they known who Christina truly was, they would have chased that painting without regard for cost.


    Their sneers now redirected toward Violette—the woman who had brazenly proimed herself Wyvena’s mentor. What a farce. From this day forward, she was destined to be a punchline among the elite.


    Violette snapped back to awareness atst, her stare locking onto Ronald as rage surged unchecked. “You’re a renowned art expert. How dare you humiliate me like this!”


    His credentials in authentication were unimpeachable, though social graces were clearly not his concern.


    “Show me thew that says I’m forbidden from doing so,” Ronald replied coolly, his voice edged with frost. “Consider yourself fortunate that I’ve held myself back. I might have said harsher things.” His gaze cut into Violette with open irritation.


    She had tried to imply hisck of decorum, but he refused to let her steer the narrative. People were often shackled by society’s fixation on moral appearances, maintaining fa?ades even when those fa?ades wounded them. Yet public approval was never the true measure of goodness. Anyone who anchored their worth to outside validation would one day find themselves imprisoned by judgment, caged by the opinions of others. Perfection did not exist—and if no harm was done, choosing joy over apuse was justification enough.


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    Violette had not anticipated Ronald’s disregard for status or his bluntck of civility. Her dignity felt trampled, heat ring across her face.


    “I won’t ept that she’s Wyvena,” Violette snapped. “You were paid off by the Jones family to back her!”


    Her fingers tightened around the ruby ring zing on her hand, defiance burning in her stare as she refused to concede. She was meant to walk away as the undeniable victor of this wager. Defeat at Christina’s hands was uneptable—there had to be deceit involved. Ronald must have been bought, shielding Christina behind his authority.


    Christinaughed openly, her luminous eyes glittering with thinly veiled ridicule. “Miss Hewitt, Mr. Burton was invited by Mr. Martel. Are you questioning Mr. Martel’s discernment in selecting an expert? Or suggesting he doesn’t know what he’s doing?”


    Violette’splexion drained of color as dread overtook her fury, her gaze darting instinctively toward Alban in the crowd. “I never said that!” she snapped, ring at Christina. “When did I ever imply he didn’t know what he was doing?”


    Christina’s smile was restrained, her toneposed yet razor-sharp. “Mr. Burton was personally invited by Mr. Martel. You use the Jones family of bribing him. If you aren’t challenging Mr. Martel’s judgment, then exin this—how could someone chosen by him be so easily bought by the opposing side?”


    Violette shook with fury, her finger stabbing the air toward Christina. “You’re twisting everything! That’s not what I meant! I won’t ept this. You cheated!”


    Her eyes reddened as she turned toward Alban, her voice fracturing under the weight of her desperation. “Alban… look at her. She cheated, and now she’s twisting my words into things I never said…”


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