Chapter 334: Old Mr. Yeats is Very Protective of His Own

Chapter 334: Chapter 334: Old Mr. Yeats is Very Protective of His Own

"Alright!" Unexpectedly, before Claire could answer, Evan loudly agreed.

"Let’s appraise it then. Claire’s painting is completely authentic. There’s no way it’s a mistake!" He then turned to Claire. "Don’t be afraid, Claire. Grandpa won’t spout nonsense just to help Estelle. He’s an expert appraiser in the calligraphy and painting circle, and Old Mr. Quinn is his good friend. He’ll make sure you get justice."

Claire was struck speechless.

She bit her lip, panic flashing across her face as she forced a calm demeanor. "T-There’s really no need for that..."

To everyone’s surprise, Old Mr. Yeats—who had remained silent up to this point—suddenly opened his eyes. "Indeed," he said mildly. "Estelle and Evan are right. It’s best if we appraise it again."

"Grandpa, it’s really not necessary. Today is Estelle’s banquet. We shouldn’t let a trivial matter like this ruin everyone’s mood." Pale-faced, Claire bowed once more. "I don’t want to steal Estelle’s thunder. I’m sorry, this is all my fault."

But Old Mr. Yeats wasn’t buying it.

His gaze swept past Claire, landing on Third Uncle Yeats not too far away. He let out a low scoff, his voice flat yet profoundly meaningful. "Are you afraid, Claire?"

"Of course not..."

Old Mr. Yeats’s tone remained perfectly composed. "Since you aren’t afraid, then let’s proceed with the appraisal. Someone, go fetch my appraisal tools."

He even tacked on a line of "comfort." "Don’t worry. Grandpa will definitely give you justice."

Evan beamed. "Did you hear that, Claire? Grandpa is on your side! This reappraisal is just to make Estelle Lockwood give up and to shut her mouth!"

The surrounding guests began to murmur in agreement, feeling they understood the old man’s intentions.

"I knew it. After raising her for over two decades, and with Miss Claire being so perfect in every way, how could the old master not dote on her?"

"Exactly. The old master is just helping Miss Yeats prove the truth. Reappraising it is the right move. Otherwise, without concrete evidence, Estelle could still deny it to the bitter end."

"That’s right. Miss Claire, you’re truly fortunate."

Old Mr. Yeats simply gave a soft chuckle.

"Grandpa, how could I trouble you over such a trivial matter? Do you really not believe me?" Claire’s eyes brimmed with tears before they came spilling down her cheeks.

Old Mr. Yeats spoke at a leisurely pace. "How is this not believing you? It’s precisely *because* I believe you that I want to appraise it again.

"Claire, you grew up by my side. I know exactly what kind of character you have. I believe you would never try to pass off a fake as the real deal. However, Estelle is my biological granddaughter. I have to lay the evidence right in front of her. Don’t you agree?"

Old Mr. Yeats even put on a stern face. "Estelle! If my appraisal proves this painting is authentic, you must apologize to Claire. Do you understand?"

Estelle had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud. Looking at the theatrical old man, she gave a slow nod. "I understand."

With that, she flashed a smile at Claire. "Don’t worry, Miss Yeats. I’m not an unreasonable person. If I truly misunderstood you, I’ll absolutely apologize.

"But Grandpa, what if this painting *is* a fake?" Estelle tilted her head. "You wouldn’t play favorites with Claire and be biased, would you?"

The bystanders nodded in agreement. Since things had escalated to this point, it was only natural for Old Mr. Yeats to offer Estelle a few words of reassurance.

Sure enough, Old Mr. Yeats furrowed his brow. "Although I know Claire’s intentions are pure, and I’m certain this painting is no fake, everything must be fair. Since you put it that way, Estelle, let’s do this.

"If this painting turns out to be a forgery, Claire, Evan, the two of you will apologize to Estelle. Evan’s art exhibition will be canceled, and Claire’s studio will be shut down for a couple of days. Both of you will stay home and properly reflect on your actions!"

Old Mr. Yeats smiled. "Estelle, are you satisfied with this arrangement?"

Estelle nodded. "Alright."

The severity of the "punishments" handed out to Claire and Evan versus Estelle—depending on whether the painting was genuine or a forgery—was vastly disproportionate. Yet, no one raised any objections. That was because everyone firmly believed the painting was authentic. Therefore, Old Mr. Yeats’s promise to Estelle could never actually come to pass.

Even Evan, one of the parties involved, wasn’t worried in the slightest. An apology? Canceled exhibitions? Impossible. He firmly believed in Claire’s pure and kind heart; she would never deceive their grandfather with a forgery!

But Estelle’s situation was different. Very soon, Estelle would be the one publicly apologizing to Claire.

At the thought of this, Evan could barely contain his excitement. "Grandpa, hurry up and appraise it!"

Meanwhile, the butler had already brought over Old Mr. Yeats’s appraisal tools. Arriving alongside him was Quentin. The moment Quentin laid eyes on the painting, his expression shifted. Upon learning about the ridiculous farce unfolding, he almost burst into laughter.

Out of sheer anger, that is.

He had anticipated that Claire would try to trip Estelle up at the banquet, which was why he had intercepted Third Uncle Yeats and Claire earlier. What he hadn’t expected was for that idiot, Evan, to act as her lackey. Claire herself hadn’t made it inside, but her "gift" certainly had.

And it was such a... a spectacularly stupid gift at that. It was so foolish it left Quentin completely drained of the will to even scold them. Such fools desperately needed a good lesson.

"Grandpa, no. It’s really not necessary..."

Seeing things escalate to this point, Claire was in a genuine panic.

Yet, Old Mr. Yeats maintained his smile. "There’s no need to be afraid, Claire. Grandpa will clear your name right this instant."

"No, no..." Claire watched helplessly as the butler set down the appraisal tools and spread the painting out on the table. The surrounding guests all crowded in for a closer look.

Old Mr. Yeats picked up his specialized magnifying glass for appraising calligraphy and paintings. Just as he hovered it over the canvas—

THUD!

Claire looked as if she had lost her footing and collapsed straight toward the ground. As luck would have it, she crashed right into the table.

SPLASH!

A pitcher of water tipped over, pouring entirely over the canvas. The entire painting was completely drenched!

The accident happened in a flash, leaving the guests frozen in shock. Evan reflexively turned toward her. "Claire, are you okay?"

Claire lay weakly on the floor, her face pale. "I’m sorry, Grandpa. I just... I lost my footing just now..."

"Lost your footing, did you?" Old Mr. Yeats was still smiling. "Or is it that you don’t want the appraisal to happen, Claire?"

Claire’s hands clenched into tight fists as an indescribable terror welled up from the depths of her heart. "Grandpa, Grandpa, I just..."

"Claire, my reappraising this painting is clearly in your favor. Why do you look so terrified? Why have you tried to stop me time and time again?"

Old Mr. Yeats might be advanced in years, but he was certainly no fool. On the contrary, he was far shrewder than anyone else in the room. It only took him a single glance to see exactly what Claire was trying to pull.

"If it were a genuine piece, you shouldn’t be afraid at all. Yet, you’ve tried to intervene over and over..." Old Mr. Yeats gave her a profound look. "Could it be that you know this painting is a forgery, Claire? Is that why you’re so afraid?"

"No!!" Claire shrieked frantically.