Chapter 842

Yet Serena had her own reputation abroad. “Thank you, Prof. Monet,” she replied. “I anticipated your visit and have a special gift for you, in honor of your passion for art.”

A bodyguard approached, presenting an exquisitely crafted pearwood case. Serena began to unveil her gift, but Leonardo interrupted with a raised hand, “My visit today is to enjoy the art on display. Gifts are unnecessary.”

He studied a painting that captured an expansive seascape with towering waves beneath an azure sky.

Where is this scene from?” he mused. “Scenery like this is rare.”

To the uninitiated, the scene was merely stunning, but those with insight recognized there was more than met the eye.

Serena responded, “It’s been quite some time. I’ve forgotten. Why don’t you come with me to see another piece?”

Leonardo scoffed, “You don’t even know what you’ve painted?”

At that moment, Mya interjected, “This painting isn’t hers.”

Leonardo waved his hand. Mya immediately kept quiet. However, some of the reporters had already caught on. But since Leonardo was there, no one dared to interrupt and ask any questions.

Serena’s voice was steady, a warning edged within. “Please be careful with your accusations. This is a professional setting, not a place for baseless claims. Continue, and you may be removed.”

Mya chose silence.

Leonardo, unperturbed, inquired, “Which work would you have me view?”

Serena gestured gracefully. “This way, please.” All eyes followed as she led them to a grand painting shrouded in red fabric. At her nod, a bodyguard drew the cloth away.

Gasps of wonder spread through the room.

The unveiled painting revealed not another’s likeness but Serena’s own. She was depicted in ethereal white tulle, her bare back to the viewer, arms crossed, gaze averted. The detail was immaculate, each hair on her back finely rendered, the fabric caught in an invisible breeze. The realism was such that it bordered on the illusion of life.

Amidst the murmurs of admiration, Leonardo’s voice cut through, “Disaster.”

His blunt critique landed heavily, a public slight that left Serena exposed.

Mya’s outrage couldn’t be held back as she addressed the room, “Prof. Monet, she’s taken possession of Madelyn’s painting album. It seems the majority of these pieces are actually Madelyn’s handiwork.”

Then, her gaze piercing Serena, she continued, “Serena Smith, what depths will you stoop to?

Adopting Madelyn’s name as ‘Madelyn Smith,’ presenting her art as if it were your own… it’s utterly despicable!”

Leonardo said, “Is your talent stealing others’ work?”

Leonardo’s pointed question left Serena scrambling for footing in the unexpected confrontation. “Prof.

Monet, I had hoped to request your mentorship today. Even if you decline, there’s no need for accusations. You’re esteemed in the art world; isn’t this beneath your status?”

Leonardo dismissed the notion of status with a gesture, “Status is irrelevant. My role here, upon your invitation, is to critique as a committed educator would.”

With the conversation steering into a tight corner, Serena acknowledged his position, albeit reluctantly,”

Of course, your judgment is always esteemed.”

Leonardo asked Clement, “Clement, do you still remember the motto of Ventropolis University?”

Clement stepped forward. “I dare not forget,” he began, his voice steady. “Uphold integrity, pursue your true calling, sustain dignity and resolve, and prevail through adversity.”

“You’re right,” Leonardo nodded.

He turned to Serena with a stern look. “You lack the integrity I require. I doubt you’re fit to be my student, much less my apprentice.”

Serena was taken aback by the severity of his words; it was a humiliating moment.

Her palms were clammy with sweat. Panic, fear, and shyness surged within her, erasing all her rehearsed promises in an instant.

Yet, she managed to contain her mounting anxiety, subtly pinching her hand as she mustered the courage to respond. “Prof. Monet, don’t you think that’s a bit too harsh?”