Chapter 350: Stole Her Father’s Painting

Chapter 350: Chapter 350: Stole Her Father’s Painting

Liam Sloan had merely said this casually to provoke Evan Yeats.

But he didn’t expect Evan’s expression to actually change.

Realizing his reaction was too obvious, Evan immediately gritted his teeth. "Lynn, apologize right now! I didn’t expect you to be so vicious! Miss Lockwood, my assistant was in the wrong here. I’ve fired her. Do whatever you want!"

With that, Evan stormed off in a huff.

Estelle Lockwood raised an eyebrow and looked at Lynn, who was slumped on the ground. She clicked her tongue.

"Lynn..." She smiled and narrowed her eyes. "Let’s have a chat, shall we?"

Upon entering the exhibition hall, Estelle parted ways with Liam.

After all, following that little showdown, Evan shouldn’t be brainless enough to provoke her again.

Estelle looked up at the security cameras.

She still couldn’t figure it out. How did Evan plan to frame her right under the watchful lenses of four massive cameras? Did he have no brain at all? In the past, when Noelle Lockwood wanted to make a move, she would at least choose a spot with no cameras or a blind spot.

He was brainless, but was his assistant brainless too? Didn’t she know that if this was exposed, her career would be over?

A thought suddenly popped into Estelle’s mind—could Lynn have done it on purpose?

But that probably wasn’t the case either...

As she walked, she arrived at the painting area.

This was an interactive zone stocked with plenty of paper and paint. Since people who attended art exhibitions generally had a strong interest in fine arts, providing an area for guests to paint and take their artwork home was a very engaging idea.

Right now, the painting area was relatively empty. Estelle stood outside, wondering if she should give it a try.

"Why is Mrs. Sloan just standing there?" a male voice came from behind.

Nathaniel Sloan had run into a business partner at the entrance earlier. After talking for five minutes, he had stumbled upon the incident with Evan.

"Did Evan give you a hard time just now?"

Estelle turned around. "Yeah, there’s something wrong with his head. The Yeats family really needs to get his brain checked. I don’t even know if he can be saved."

"Heh..." Nathaniel’s chest rumbled with laughter, though it was unclear what was so funny about her remark. "It’s quite cute when Mrs. Sloan deadpans about someone having a screw loose."

Estelle was momentarily speechless, wondering why this man had such strange tastes.

Nathaniel looked toward the painting area. "Mrs. Sloan must know how to paint, right? Oil? Traditional ink?"

Estelle coughed. "I’ve dabbled. I’ve dabbled."

"Then why not paint a piece for me?" Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, gesturing forward. "After you?"

Estelle clicked her tongue. Unable to resist, she stepped into the painting area, deciding to paint a traditional ink landscape.

It wasn’t that she disliked other styles, but oil painting was too time-consuming and required too much setup. Besides, she was best at landscape painting.

While Estelle painted, Nathaniel watched quietly from the side.

It wasn’t until she set down her brush that the man spoke in a hoarse voice. "It’s beautiful. Mrs. Sloan, will you give this painting to me?"

Estelle nodded. "Sure."

Nathaniel didn’t say where he was going to take the painting; he simply had Luke White carry it away. It wasn’t until a few days later, when Estelle visited Nathaniel’s office, that she discovered the painting hung there. Business partners even mistook it for a masterpiece by some famous artist. Seeing how much Nathaniel liked it, they racked their brains to shower it with endless praise.

Estelle at that time: "..."

As for her present self, she had no idea what was going to happen later.

Right before Luke took the painting away, a group of painters happened to walk by. The man leading them looked at Estelle in amazement. "Is this your work?"

Estelle raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Yes, just something I did for fun."

"It’s really good. Do you have a teacher, or are you self-taught?"

Estelle was in a good mood, so she answered, "I’m self-taught."

"If you’re self-taught..." Before the leading man could finish, another painter exclaimed in pleasant surprise, "I get it! You must be a fan of Evan, Yeats the Painter, right?"

Not everyone knew what had just transpired. Thus, they naturally assumed Estelle was a fan of Evan’s.

"It’s okay, we’re all fans of Yeats the Painter here. There’s nothing to hide. Your style, technique, line work, and use of negative space are exactly the same as his. You must have studied many of his works and copied them extensively to achieve such a result, right?"

Estelle suddenly thought of something and narrowed her eyes. "My painting... looks very similar to Evan’s style?"

"Yes! All the techniques are the same, and the spirit of the piece is incredibly similar."

Estelle’s expression darkened. She nodded at the group of painters as a farewell and hurriedly left.

Beside her, the look in Nathaniel’s eyes turned cold.

Ever since that painter said Estelle’s work resembled Evan’s, he had sensed something was wrong. Because he could tell that Estelle’s style was extremely close to Silas Lockwood’s.

In other words, even if Estelle was copying or imitating, the person she was emulating was her father, Silas Lockwood, not Evan Yeats.

But now, everyone was saying her painting resembled Evan’s... This could perhaps only mean one thing...

Estelle quickly entered the exhibition area, her face instantly sinking.

Of the thirty paintings on display, large and small, every single one was incredibly familiar to her!

These paintings, preserved in the form of photographs, had accompanied her for many years. When her grandfather was alive, when he passed away, when she left Crestfall, and when she returned to Crestfall—every single day, year after year. Sometimes, she even had to stroke those photos to fall asleep. That was why those people had said her imitation was so lifelike.

Because these paintings were her father’s works. She had looked at them for a very, very long time. Even though they were ultimately reduced to small photographs in her hands, to the point where the details were blurred, she cherished them deeply.

But now—

Why were these paintings that belonged to her father—artworks that had been completed over twenty or even thirty years ago—being exhibited here as Evan’s works?!

Crowned with Evan’s name to become his glory?

When these people praised the paintings, every sentence included Evan’s name, but no one mentioned a word about Silas Lockwood.

Estelle’s expression turned freezing cold.

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. "Estelle, do you plan to handle this yourself, or will you tell the Yeats family?"

Should she tell the Yeats family?

The Yeats family... Quentin Yeats wasn’t in Crestfall today; he had gone to a neighboring city to discuss a business deal. If the person who did this was Claire Yeats, Estelle would definitely tell Old Mr. Yeats and Mrs. Yeats.

But right now, the thief, Evan Yeats, was the biological son of Mrs. Yeats and the Family Head, and the biological grandson of Old Mr. Yeats.

Evan had been right about one thing: Estelle’s return to the Yeats family posed a threat to Claire, but it couldn’t threaten him.

Because not only was he the Family Head’s biological son—making him far closer to them than Estelle, the "long-lost daughter of a deceased younger cousin"—but he had also grown up by their side. Regardless of his image in their hearts, no parent would ever believe their own child was inherently bad.