When the Book–Traveling Girl Meets the Reborn Girl
Chapter 546 What Are You Really Thinking?
The frost in Jean’s eyes deepened with each word, her voice tinged with scorn and a <b>sharp</b>, <b>simmering </b>anger. “Did I not pay you? Did I not make a deal with you?”
Her lips curled ever so slightly, though it wasn’t a smile. “As your client, I could have tolerated <b>receiving </b><b>a </b>painting with such loaded symbolism. But to find out even the right to call it a gift has been <b>stripped </b><b>from </b>me–was that part of the service, too?”
Sarah blinked, a flicker of surprise dancing through her
gaze.
Of all the reactions she’d prepared for–tears, denial, hysteria–this wasn’t one of them. Jean had just learned she wasn’t the Ginger family’s real daughter. Yet she didn’t seem shaken. Not even a little. <b>Instead</b>, her fury was directed at a painting?
She didn’t seem to care that she was the fake noble at all. Her focus was entirely on the transaction.
<i>What </i><i>kind </i><i>of </i><i>person </i><i>is </i><i>this</i>? Sarah wondered, unsettled. <i>What </i><i>kind </i><i>of </i><i>brain </i><i>even </i>works like <b><i>that</i></b>?
Jean didn’t stop. She raised an eyebrow, voice still calm but edged with barbed amusement. “Really, <b>don’t </b>you think this was a bit unfair? Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Tyler?”
That hit its mark.
Sarah stiffened, clearly ufortable. The room was full of people–powerful people, well–connected, high society. Their opinions mattered. And though she believed she’d done nothing wrong, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of their unspoken judgment pressing down on her.
She didn’t regret what she’d done. If she wanted something, she would take it. A few tricks, a little deception -what did it matter, if she was reiming what should’ve been hers all along?
Compared to the trauma Jean had inflicted on her in another lifetime, this was nothing.
Jean didn’t wait for a response. Her gaze dropped away from Sarah, turning instead to Sienna. In the blink of an eye, her expression shifted–her sharpness faded, and something softer, more apologetic surfaced in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said gently. “You liked Tyler’s work, so I went to her months ago and asked for this painting. I put a lot of thought into it. I really wanted it to be something special for your birthday. But I didn’t know it would turn into all this. I guess I didn’t manage to give you a very good gift, did I?”
She said nothing of her parentage. Nothing about bloodlines or false identities. Nothing about being reced.
All she mentioned–again and again–was the painting. The gift.
And that was what shattered Sienna.,
She had been prepared for questions. usations. Screaming, even. She’d braced herself for Jean to demand answers, to demand to know why her world had been turned upside down.
But she didn’t.
She didn’t ask for truth. Didn’tsh out. Didn’t cry.
Instead, she stood there quietly, apologizing for not delivering a perfect gift.
Chapter 546 What Are You Really Thinking?
Sienna felt something inside her twist violently, as if her chest had been <b>cleaved </b><b>open</b><b>. </b><b>The </b><b>pain </b>was physical. Sharp. Crushing.
The Ginger brothers felt the same.
Jean hadn’t fallen apart. She hadn’t asked them for anything. She hadn’t even seemed <b>surprised</b>. <b>She </b><b>just </b>stood there–beautiful andposed–fuming over a painting and nothing else.
But that only made it worse.
They couldn’t read her. Couldn’t guess what was going on behind her calm eyes.
<i>What </i><i>are </i><i>you </i><i>really </i><i>thinking</i><i>, </i><i>Jean</i><i>? </i>
They would’ve preferred if she cried. Screamed. Anything.
This silent strength of hers–it broke them.
“Jean…” Sienna choked out her name. Her voice was rough, unsteady. The emotion she had tried so hard <b>to </b>bury finally surged forward, slipping free in the form of a single tear that slid down her cheek.
Sienna–who, in public, was always iron–willed andposed–was crying.
And in front of this crowd of sharp–eyed guests, no less.
Around the room, the onlookers remained silent. The atmosphere had grown too heavy for politementary. A few simply shook their heads, overwhelmed by the weight of what they <b>were </b>witnessing. “Don’t cry,” Jean said softly, lips pressed into a faint line. Her tone was gentle,forting.
And yet–wasn’t she the one who had lost everything?
Somehow, she had be the one offeringfort.
Sienna wiped her eyes quickly, but the tremble in her voice remained. “Jean… don’t you have anything you want to ask?” she whispered.
There was a pause. A moment of silence soplete it rang.
Everyone waited.
Because what Jean chose to say next could unravel everything.