Chapter 354: Dare to Confront Me

Chapter 354: Chapter 354: Dare to Confront Me

Bolstered by this thought, the manager lost all fear and spoke with self-righteous conviction, "Miss Lockwood, I don’t know what personal grudge you have against Mr. Yeats, but I watched him paint these pieces with my own eyes, stroke by stroke. How could they possibly have anything to do with your father?

"Who sent you here to cause trouble? If you don’t get out right now, I’m calling the police!"

Estelle Lockwood toyed with her phone, ignoring the surrounding whispers. She took her time.

"That’s fine. Go ahead and call the police. I’m not afraid of making a scene anyway," Estelle chuckled softly. "I just wonder if your so-called Genius Painter is afraid of being exposed. Or perhaps, does Evan Yeats dare to confront me face-to-face?"

The surroundings instantly quieted down as the crowd began to whisper among themselves.

A few people muttered privately, "Now that you mention it, we’ve never actually seen Evan Yeats paint in person."

"Yeah, he was invited to several art exhibitions but never attended. People used to think he was just aloof and arrogant. But looking at how much he loves showing off now, he doesn’t seem like the aloof type..."

"Could this lady be telling the truth? Did Evan Yeats really claim her father’s posthumous works as his own?"

"Damn... that would be taking it too far."

"Absolute nonsense!" the manager barked sharply. "Who do you think you are? Who sent you here to cause trouble? How dare you question Mr. Yeats! Do you even know he’s from the Yeats Family of Capital City? He can have anything he wants! Why would he ever steal your father’s posthumous works!"

Right at that moment, Claire Yeats rushed to the scene. "What’s going on here?"

The manager seemed to have found his pillar of support. "Miss Claire, I was just about to kick out this troublemaker.

"This woman actually claimed that Mr. Yeats’s artworks were stolen from her father! Isn’t that utterly ridiculous!

"Somebody, get this woman out of here!"

The bodyguards were about to step forward when Luke White, who had been standing by Estelle’s side all along, instantly blocked their path.

Estelle chuckled. "The Yeats Family? Who do I think I am? Tell you what..."

She paused, mulling it over for a moment. "Go ask Evan Yeats right now. Ask him exactly who I am."

Estelle’s face had been making waves across Crestfall recently, so quite a few people recognized her.

Add to that the presence of Luke, Nathaniel Sloan’s right-hand man. When Nathaniel was absent, Luke practically acted as his proxy, holding the authority to command all of Evernight International. His face was even more widely recognized.

"That looks like Luke..."

"Luke White? Why isn’t he with Mr. Sloan?"

"Then who is that woman?"

"Uh... to be honest, I think she looks like Mrs. Sloan, Estelle Lockwood. It’s perfectly normal for Luke to be by Mrs. Sloan’s side, isn’t it?"

"If she’s Mrs. Sloan..."

Instantly, everyone fell silent.

Not long ago, the Yeats Family’s public acknowledgment of their long-lost relative had caused a massive uproar. And wasn’t that missing daughter of the Yeats none other than Nathaniel Sloan’s wife, Estelle Lockwood?

So, when the manager claimed that Evan Yeats was a member of the Yeats and would never covet the "junk" left by Estelle’s father... he was forgetting that Estelle was also a member of the Yeats! Estelle’s mother was Miss Yeats, the beloved daughter Old Mr. Yeats had personally raised and doted on for over twenty years.

How could the posthumous works of Estelle’s father possibly be "junk"?

Could the man Miss Yeats fell in love with be just an ordinary nobody?

If someone else had made these accusations, perhaps no one would have believed them. After all, Evan Yeats’s status spoke for itself. Moreover, it wouldn’t be easy for him to get his hands on a stranger’s belongings anyway.

But Estelle’s father was the man Miss Yeats had loved her entire life, a man even Old Mr. Yeats had once praised. He must have been an astoundingly brilliant man.

Furthermore, Estelle’s father had passed away. Perhaps before his death, he had entrusted his works to her mother? And subsequently, those works were left in the Yeats Family estate, or somewhere Evan could find them, allowing him to claim them as his own while Estelle was still in the dark?

In an instant, the crowd mentally drafted countless dramatic scenarios.

Some people also turned their gazes toward Claire.

Since Estelle was the true daughter of the Yeats Family, it was impossible for Claire not to recognize her. Why did she stay dead silent when the manager threatened to kick Estelle out just moments ago?

A lump formed in Claire’s throat. A drop of sweat rolled down her forehead, and she clenched her fists tightly.

Now, she had no choice but to step forward. Speaking in a gentle tone, she said, "Mr. Manager, please don’t get worked up. Estelle is indeed a member of the Yeats Family, and she and Evan are family. Why don’t we wait until Evan arrives before drawing any conclusions?"

She even offered Estelle a smile. "Estelle, I’m so sorry. The manager is simply trying to protect Evan’s interests. After all, we all know these artworks belong to Evan, yet you’re claiming... Never mind. Estelle, you should just go home. Evan won’t hold this against you."

"Don’t. Let’s definitely not just say ’never mind.’"

Estelle wore a faint, mocking smile as she spoke at a leisurely pace.

"Where does Evan Yeats get the nerve to say he won’t hold this against me? That’s fine. If he doesn’t want to make a fuss about it, I will.

"These are my father’s artworks. They were stored in the basement of our villa, only to vanish into thin air. And now that they’ve reappeared in public, they bear Evan Yeats’s name. Even though my father had some ties to the Yeats Family, to let all his hard work be stolen to pave the way for Evan... shouldn’t you all consider how my mother and I feel about this?"

Claire gritted her teeth, terrified that the truth would be exposed. However, remembering that her "teacher" had assured her everything was already taken care of, she forced herself to calm down.

"Estelle, I really don’t know what you’re talking about... Evan is a painting prodigy. The entire Yeats Family knows this. You have no proof..."

"Who says I have no proof?"

Estelle interrupted with a radiant smile. "Miss Claire, I’m afraid to say, I’m only here because I do have proof."

Meanwhile.

Nathaniel slowly pulled out a mask, his expression cool and indifferent.

A man in his late fifties standing beside him bowed slightly. "Sir, I will go on your behalf first. Please rest assured."

Nathaniel offered a faint, polite smile. "I’ll have to trouble you, then."

"You’re too polite, sir." The man chuckled. "It is my absolute honor to serve you and Madam."

This man was the previous "Mr. Lynch"—the subordinate Miranda Lancaster had left for Nathaniel.

Nathaniel checked the time, feeling it was just about right. "Give it another fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir."

At the art exhibition.

As Estelle finished her sentence with a smile, Claire’s expression instantly froze.

A knot tightened in her throat. First, she feared that if Evan’s reputation was ruined and he faced backlash within the Yeats Family, she would be completely finished alongside him. Secondly, if the truth was exposed and it was revealed that she was the one who had given these artworks to Evan, then she would become the thief who stole a dead man’s legacy. What would she do then!

"Estelle!"

Suddenly, Third Uncle Yeats and Third Aunt Yeats hurried over, looking utterly exasperated. "Estelle, we’ve heard about what happened. You’re a member of the Yeats as well. Whatever issue you have, can’t we discuss it properly at home? Must you blow this up in public? If Evan loses face, you lose face too!"

"Exactly. Evan is a painting prodigy. You can’t just spew baseless accusations!"

Estelle narrowed her eyes. "I’m looking for Evan Yeats. Why are the two of you so anxious?"