Chapter 335: Claire Yeats’s ’Teacher

Chapter 335: Chapter 335: Claire Yeats’s ’Teacher

Old Mr. Yeats merely chuckled. Ignoring Claire Yeats, he lowered his head to appraise the painting.

However, he only looked at it for a minute—no, half a minute—before looking up and calmly announcing, "This is a fake."

This wasn’t an appraisal at all. Or rather, Old Mr. Yeats never intended to reappraise it in the first place. His sole purpose was to declare it a forgery.

Evan Yeats froze, his eyes slowly widening. "Grandpa, are you done appraising it already?"

"Naturally," Old Mr. Yeats replied evenly.

Evan opened his mouth, wanting to ask if the old man was joking. However, the person sitting before him was the former patriarch of the immensely powerful Yeats Family. His face pale, he could only say, "Grandpa, an appraisal can’t be this trifling. How... how could you possibly tell if it’s real or fake with just one glance?"

"Evan is right," Old Mr. Yeats said, looking at him coolly. "So, why do you think I am so certain it’s a fake?"

Without thinking, Evan blurted out, "To protect Estelle Lockwood, of course..."

Old Mr. Yeats’s smile darkened. He had considered grooming this grandson of his, but the boy was truly a lost cause.

Estelle Lockwood once again found herself doubting whether this Evan Yeats was truly a thirty-year-old scion of a wealthy family. It wasn’t unheard of for wealthy households to shelter their young masters and misses until they were incredibly naive, but he was already at the age to start a family of his own. Having been raised by Old Mr. Yeats, for him to still turn out like this... it was truly hard to judge.

"Mr. Yeats," Estelle Lockwood said with a faint, mocking smile. "With the results of the appraisal coming out so quickly, it’s indeed possible that my grandfather is covering up for me. But it’s far more likely that the authentic version of this painting is already in my grandfather’s hands."

As soon as she finished speaking, everyone in the room widened their eyes in shock. What did she mean by that?

Evan also subconsciously said, "Grandpa, Estelle Lockwood isn’t worth you lying for..."

"I hung the authentic version of this painting in the living room of our old residence," Old Mr. Yeats interrupted calmly. He looked at the grandson he had once doted on. "Perhaps, you can ask the others."

Quentin Yeats had long since reached his limit. His face was dark as he glared fixedly at his younger brother. He couldn’t fathom why Evan would make things so difficult for their biological sister just for Claire’s sake.

"Grandpa bought that painting at an auction two years ago and hung it up as soon as he brought it home," Quentin said. "It was also around that time that Grandpa found the Quinns. He learned that Old Mr. Quinn was never actually mad at him. He had wanted to reconcile but couldn’t bring himself to do it out of pride. In the end, a sudden and severe illness struck, turning it into his greatest regret.

"Therefore, Grandpa and Old Mr. Quinn resolved their misunderstandings a long time ago. The truth was revealed two years ago, and that painting has been hanging in the living room ever since." Quentin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "And you two actually knew nothing about it?"

Instantly, everyone turned to look at Claire! No wonder Old Mr. Yeats was so certain it was a fake with just one glance. No wonder Estelle and Quentin had such subtle expressions. It was because everyone knew that the authentic painting was hanging in the living room of the Yeats Family’s old residence! Then... why didn’t Claire and Evan know?

Didn’t she boast about her filial piety? Wasn’t it said that Claire was the one who had stayed by the old man’s side all these years? Didn’t people claim that she always had the old man’s best interests at heart? Why wouldn’t Claire know about something so important?

Reconciling with Old Mr. Quinn was a major event for Old Mr. Yeats, which meant it was a major event for the Yeats Family as well. Moreover, anyone who stepped into the old residence would immediately see the painting hanging in the living room. Claire claimed that she frequently visited the old man and spent time with him. Yet, in two whole years, had she never caught a single glimpse of that painting?

There could only be one explanation for this.

"How does Claire have the nerve to call herself filial? It’s obvious she hasn’t visited Old Mr. Yeats at all."

"Anyone can spout pretty nonsense for show, but it’s one thing to lie, and another to try and fool Old Mr. Yeats with a fake painting!"

"Right? Miss Lockwood had good intentions, but Claire tried to turn the tables and blame her."

"They’re both ladies of the Yeats Family, so why is the gap between them so massive? I really don’t know how the Yeats Family raised Claire."

"How can you blame the Yeats Family for this? It’s most likely her parents’ fault."

"And then there’s Evan... I don’t even want to talk about him. Helping a distant cousin lie and frame someone else—is there anything this man won’t do?"

As the crowd’s murmurs reached his ears, Evan stumbled, nearly passing out on the spot.

Claire’s face was fraught with anxiety as tears welled up in her eyes. "Grandpa, I didn’t know it was a fake. I was deceived too..."

The old man exposed her excuse coldly, "Estelle reminded you several times. Not to mention, my purchase of this painting caused quite a stir. Even if I were to take a step back and assume you truly didn’t know it was a fake, what was your purpose in presenting this gift at this very moment?"

"I..." Claire’s face drained of color.

"Could it be exactly as Estelle said? That you couldn’t stand seeing her attract everyone’s attention at the banquet, so you tried to steal the spotlight, assert your dominance, and subtly warn Estelle that you are the true young lady of the Yeats Family?"

Old Mr. Yeats pressed her relentlessly. Every word he spoke struck a heavy blow to Claire’s heart, making her grow increasingly panicked. "Grandpa, I didn’t. I really didn’t..."

"From the very beginning when you targeted Estelle over that dress, to the incident in the stairwell at Evernight International that I also heard about—in every single one of those situations, the only person standing by your side was Evan. Claire, did you think I was blind to your ulterior motives?"

Claire trembled all over, her tears flowing freely. She couldn’t understand where she had gone wrong. Her "teacher" had taught her to do exactly this! Her "teacher" had claimed that this method had succeeded countless times, so why had it failed so miserably for her?

"Enough!!" Evan suddenly roared.

He forcefully pulled Claire behind him. "Grandpa, I have always respected you, but you’re going too far today! Claire just wanted your love and attention, yet you’re siding with someone else to target her like this. You’ve broken her heart!"

Old Mr. Yeats looked up at his grandson, then turned his gaze to Estelle. They shared absolutely no similarities. It was hard to imagine that they were actually siblings. How bizarre. Was his daughter-in-law absolutely sure there wasn’t a mix-up when she gave birth? Because with Evan’s intelligence, he didn’t seem like one of the Yeats at all.

Quentin didn’t overthink things. His face dark, he bellowed, "Evan, what kind of nonsense are you spouting? Apologize to Grandpa right now!"

"I won’t apologize! I did nothing wrong!" Evan shielded Claire as if everyone standing before him was his sworn enemy. "I’m the only one in this world who cares for Claire, and she only has me! I can’t abandon her. You all want to drive her away, don’t you? Fine, then I’ll leave too!"

Overcome with grief and indignation, Evan had spoken without thinking. For a brief moment after the words left his mouth, he felt a twinge of regret and hesitation. However, he quickly reassured himself that since he was Mr. Yeats, his grandfather wouldn’t actually do anything to him. Right now, he was the only one who could protect Claire. If he didn’t step up for her, what would happen to her? Bolstered by this thought, Evan puffed out his chest defiantly.