Chapter 437: Chapter 437

Chapter 437:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

“Every artist has their own fingerprint — their unique style,” she said, her voice steady. “Earlier, I used a magnifying glass to study Mr. Gregory Lloyd’s brushstrokes. It’s all in the details, even the way his hand moved. That’s how I’ll finish it — exactly as he would have.”

Roderick practically beamed, his anticipation barely contained. “Ms. Clarke, I believe in your skills. I know you’ll pull this off. Let’s witness something remarkable.”

Even with all of Melany’s well-practiced charm, her mask slipped when she heard the praise. Something in her expression changed, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. How could these old fools be so blind? She swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat.

Why did they have to fawn over Allison?

The jealousy on her face was bare for a fleeting moment, but she quickly smothered it with a saccharine smile. Leaning in, her voice soft as honey but laced with venom, she grasped Allison’s hand with a sudden, unsettling grip.

“Since Mr. Astley is so confident in you, I’m sure you’ll succeed,” she cooed. “After all, you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in public, would you?”

The atmosphere shifted. What had been an encouraging conversation about giving it Allison’s best shot now felt like a high-stakes performance, thanks to Melany’s thinly veiled challenge.

The implication was clear. If Allison made a mistake, she would let everyone down.

Allison threw her an icy glance. “Mrs. Stevens, we’re not that close.”

gαℓησν𝒆𝓁s․com is your fiction sanctuary

Without breaking eye contact, she twisted her wrist free from Melany’s grasp, but the sensation of her cold, repulsive touch lingered. It made her skin crawl.

Before she could shake off the feeling entirely, a strong, masculine hand appeared before her — long, elegant fingers. Kellan’s expression held nothing but distaste.

“Here. Wipe it off,” he said, scrunching his face, holding out a crisp blue checkered handkerchief.

Allison took it without hesitation. “Thank you, Mr. Lloyd.”

She carefully wiped her fingers, focusing on the places Melany had touched, as if scrubbing away an invisible stain. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and there was no mistaking the revulsion and disgust.

Melany’s nails dug into her own palm, the pain sharp as her anger boiled over. She was on the verge of drawing blood. How dare she?

Colton watched from the sidelines, feeling stung too. His eyes flicked between Allison and Kellan, something raw flickering in his gaze. If this had been any other setting, he might’ve demanded to know what was really going on between them. Since when did they share such intimate gestures, like passing a handkerchief? What was he missing here?

But Allison didn’t care about the undertones around her. She was here for one reason, and one reason only.

“Alright, let’s get back to work,” she said almost casually. It wasn’t about proving herself to anyone — it never had been. She’d made a promise to Keanu that she would complete the task, and that was all that mattered now.

The night hadn’t yet reached its darkest hour when Allison picked up her brush, settling into the final stages of the restoration.

.

.

.