Chapter 355: Evan Yeats, You Can Time Travel to 25 Years Ago?

Chapter 355: Chapter 355: Evan Yeats, You Can Time Travel to 25 Years Ago?

It was strange; Mrs. Yeats hadn’t even arrived yet, but Third Uncle Yeats and Third Aunt Yeats had rushed over in a panic.

"We! We just can’t stand to see you slander people like this!" Third Uncle Yeats declared self-righteously.

Claire also sighed helplessly. "Estelle, I know you’re not the type to cause trouble. Could there be some misunderstanding here? If there is, we just need to clear it up."

Her words seemed to save face for Estelle, but in reality, they framed Estelle’s actions as a baseless tantrum. In contrast, Claire appeared gracious for offering her a way out, ensuring she would be praised for her magnanimity later. Unfortunately for her, Estelle was already fully prepared.

"Miss Yeats, as I said, I have evidence," Estelle replied.

"Then I’d like to see exactly where this evidence is!" a male voice suddenly interrupted.

Evan Yeats strode in, trailed by his assistant and legal team. His expression was icy, acting as if he were entirely in the right. "Estelle Lockwood, for the sake of you being my cousin, I’ve tolerated you time and time again. I didn’t expect you to push your luck and say such outrageous things!

"Claire has a good temper and tries to reason with you, but I won’t!

"Still, considering we’re family, I’m willing to give you one last chance. As long as you leave right now, I’ll pretend this never happened. Otherwise, don’t blame me for not showing any mercy!"

Estelle’s lips curled into a slow, unhurried smile. "Alright. I’d like to see exactly how Mr. Yeats plans to show no mercy." She paused before asking calmly, "Since Mr. Yeats is speaking with such righteous conviction, what evidence do you have to prove that these are your works? As far as I know, Mr. Yeats never paints in front of others. Your public excuse is that you lack inspiration when people are around. But is it really a lack of inspiration, or do you simply not dare?"

Evan’s heart skipped a beat, but he quickly forced himself to calm down. "Estelle Lockwood, I don’t know what you’re talking about!"

"It doesn’t matter if you don’t understand. As I just said, I have evidence. Mr. Yeats has no way to prove these paintings are yours, but I have a way to prove they belong to my father." Estelle smiled brightly. "Do you want me to produce the evidence right here and now?"

Evan clenched his jaw tightly. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what evidence Estelle could possibly have. He wondered, "A suicide note? No, no, a suicide note could be dismissed as a forgery. Right, Estelle has no evidence. We’ve confirmed this thousands of times. She has absolutely no proof!"

"Fine, I’d like to see what you can—"

A stack of photos was suddenly tossed in front of him. Evan’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief!

Estelle casually flipped through the photos. "There are over two hundred pictures here. Every single one is a photograph of a painting. My grandfather took these photos and left them to me.

"As you can all see, many of the paintings in these pictures have been exhibited by Mr. Yeats, either in the past or currently. There are also some that haven’t been exhibited but share a very similar art style. It’s obvious they were all created by the same person."

There were many painters present, as well as quite a few members of the Art Association, including several highly respected figures. A few veteran painters and senior scholars took the photos. Among them was the artist who had previously noticed Estelle’s astonishing talent and assumed she was merely copying Evan’s work.

As the group examined Estelle’s photos, they were left speechless for a long time.

It was undeniable... Evan was known for his versatile styles, but this specific style was the hallmark of his most popular works. He had exhibited a total of seventy-eight paintings in this style.

Yet, there were two hundred paintings in the photos.

The remaining hundred or so pieces shared the same style and identical brushwork. Barring the possibility of deliberate imitation, they were undoubtedly the work of the same person. But it was absolutely impossible for this to be an imitation. If someone could imitate Evan—or perhaps not Chole Yeats, but imitating this painter’s art style—then why wouldn’t they publish them? After all, many of the works clearly showed an evolution in skill and were even more exquisite than the ones Evan had exhibited.

It was glaringly obvious that these two hundred-plus paintings documented one person’s journey from their early works to their eventual mastery. The painters present weren’t fools; they instantly understood the implications.

An elderly man furrowed his brow. "Mr. Yeats, how do you explain these photos provided by Miss Lockwood?"

Evan grit his teeth as cold sweat rolled down his forehead. He panicked internally, "How can there be photos?! When we searched that basement, we didn’t find any photos! How do I explain this... how do I explain this... Right, right!"

Feigning a serious expression, Evan argued, "With AI being so advanced nowadays, it’s obvious that these were digitally generated."

The elderly man frowned deeper. "We are more than capable of distinguishing whether something is digitally generated."

However, someone else chimed in, "He has a point, though. Modern AI can easily pass for the real thing. If Estelle Lockwood spent the time and money, she really could have used an AI image generator to produce similar pieces. It’s just that such works can’t be physically exhibited, which is why she could only present them in the form of photos."

Third Uncle Yeats also frowned. "Estelle, we’re all family. Why must you act like this!"

Estelle simply let out a soft laugh.

"Mr. Yeats, are you implying that I fabricated some AI artworks just to frame you?" she asked. "However, a will certainly can’t be faked."

Estelle tilted her head as a will appeared in her hand. The document detailed the estate of Estelle’s father, Silas Lockwood. Among the listed items were over two hundred paintings and several hundred design blueprints. Furthermore, the notary personnel at the time had taken photographs of these paintings and works.

The paintings in the notary’s records were identical to the photos in Estelle’s hands.

One could argue that the photos Estelle held were AI-generated, but they couldn’t possibly claim that the court’s notary personnel had helped her forge documents. Not to mention, the date on the will was from twenty-five years ago.

Estelle spoke up again, "These photos in my hands were also taken twenty-five years ago. If we send them for testing, they should be able to date the photo paper.

"Mr. Yeats... let me think. How old were you twenty-five years ago?

"You must have been only four, right? Are you saying that at four years old, you managed to complete all these artworks, only for them to be stolen by my father and left to me as his inheritance?"

The scene fell instantly silent.

The crowd exchanged bewildered glances. It was true... Evan had only been four years old at the time. No matter how much of a genius he was, it was impossible for a toddler to complete over two hundred mature artworks.

Estelle had both the photographic evidence and the official court documents. Could it really be as Estelle said? Was the Yeats Family bullying someone? Bullying a dead man who could no longer speak for himself?!

Just how much of Evan’s title as the "Genius Painter" was true, and how much was a lie? Though the onlookers didn’t voice their thoughts aloud, their disdainful expressions deeply stung Evan.

Evan’s mind was in total chaos. Before he could even formulate a response, he heard Estelle speak again.

"Mr. Yeats, just now you vowed that these works were all yours and that you didn’t steal my father’s belongings. So please, explain yourself!

"Why were the works you ’just completed’ already in my father’s possession twenty-five years ago?"

"Because... because..."

Evan instinctively tried to speak, but he couldn’t form an answer. How was he supposed to answer that?! How could he possibly answer a question like that!