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Chapter_139
Yvette’s words echoed through the room, each syllable striking fear into the hearts of those present. “Bullying you?” she repeated, her voice smooth and chilling. “You might not know the extent of my bullying. Those I bully face two fates: death, or a living hell far worse than death. If you wish to experience that, I’d be more than happy to fulfill that wish.”
The crowd froze, the air heavy with the weight of her declaration. The vivid imagery of the “living hell” was enough to make anyone shudder, especially when Yvette continued. “And as for your fainting act—it’s fake. No matter how genuine it might seem, a counterfeit can never become the real thing. However, I’ll give you one thing: you’re bold. This painting has been circulating in the black market in Mysonna for years. Do you know why no one dares to buy it? Because the person who forged it was brutally beaten, had their hands and feet broken in a single night, and was left to die in the wilderness. In the end, they were devoured by wild wolves.”
The crowd recoiled at the vivid description, a chill running down their spines as they imagined the brutality of such a fate. The chilling tone of Yvette’s words seemed to hang in the air like an omen, and people instinctively stepped back, their doubt about the painting’s authenticity growing stronger with each word.
Yvette, unfazed by the reactions around her, glanced lazily at Nellie in the distance, offering a faint, knowing smile. “Oh, and one more thing,” she continued, her voice almost playful. “It’s a bit early to be mentioning ‘half-siblings,’ don’t you think?”
The comment didn’t go unnoticed. Zachary and Nellie’s faces flickered with subtle shifts in expression, both suddenly looking more tense than before. Nellie, her mind racing, found herself momentarily distracted from Winona’s plight, her thoughts swirling in anxiety. Had Yvette uncovered something? What did she know?
Zachary, observing Nellie’s pale face, lowered his head in thought.
Winona, meanwhile, could hardly comprehend what was happening. Her face drained of color as she trembled, realizing that Yvette had somehow figured out the truth about the painting’s origins.
A cold sweat broke out across Winona’s forehead. Could it be? she thought. Could Yvette know where I got the painting from? But then, an idea struck her. So what if she does? No one can prove the painting is fake. As long as I continue denying it, who will believe her? The master Cyanbird hasn’t released new works in years. Travis, his agent, is in Mysonna, and no one here has his contact information. She can’t prove a thing.
Winona tried to hide her panic behind a mask of hurt. She looked at Yvette with wide, innocent eyes. “Yvie, I don’t understand what you mean. What black market? I don’t know anything about it,” she said, her voice trembling as she feigned confusion. “If you really want to frame me, why make up such ridiculous stories? There are so many people here, including Mr. Langford. You can’t just start throwing accusations…”
Her eyes darted toward Wyatt, silently pleading for him to back her up.
Wyatt, ever the opportunist, casually lifted his head, feigning indifference. “Hmm, what’s going on? Weren’t we talking about the painting? Sorry, I was just dealing with some official business. Where were we? Go on…” He waved the phone in his hand nonchalantly, adding an air of disinterest that made it clear he was not paying attention to the conversation.
The crowd, already disoriented, seemed to collectively agree with Wyatt. Mr. Langford is a trusted figure. If he’s not bothered, neither should we.
Wyatt, having successfully shifted the attention away from himself, returned to his “official business,” smiling contentedly as he glanced at Jeremiah, who gave him a satisfied nod.
Winona’s fury simmered beneath her forced composure, but she dared not speak up further. Wyatt was not someone she could afford to antagonize. Instead, she turned her focus back to Yvette, her tone now sharp and demanding. “If you’re so certain this painting is fake, then where’s your evidence? I won’t tolerate these accusations without proof.”
Winona’s voice was laced with a false confidence as she convinced herself that Yvette had no real evidence to support her claim. After all, if the forger was dead, how could anyone prove the painting’s authenticity? She could simply continue to deny everything, and no one would be able to challenge her.
“I am the evidence,” a voice suddenly rang out from the crowd.
All eyes turned toward Cole as he stepped forward, his demeanor awkward, almost childlike. “I can prove that Ms. Zeller is telling the truth. No one knows better than her whether the painting is real or fake.” His eyes, filled with uncertainty, darted toward Yvette as he approached her.
The room was thrown into chaos. What? Cole knows Yvette? What is going on?
Cole awkwardly scratched his head, trying to gather his thoughts. “Cyanbird… I-I’m Cole Paben. Hello, nice to see you again.”
The crowd stood in stunned silence, the words hanging in the air.
Wait, what did he say? Did he just call Yvette Cyanbird? The realization hit like a thunderclap. Yvette was the mysterious and internationally renowned artist, Cyanbird—an enigma in the art world whose paintings were worth millions. This was impossible. How could it be?
Even the most experienced art critics and collectors had never seen Cyanbird in person. And now, here she was, casually standing before them.
Zachary, Richard, Nellie, Robert, Victor, and Zeke were all left speechless. No one could process the revelation.
But Winona was the most affected. She refused to accept it. No way. This can’t be true. She’d rather believe that the world was ending than accept that Yvette was actually Cyanbird.
Yvette, with a casual smirk, raised an eyebrow and gave a mockingly cool glance at Cole. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” she said lazily, her tone dripping with nonchalance. “You’ve aged a bit; hasn’t Mr. Harrington been taking good care of you?”
Cole scratched his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “No… Mr. Harrington’s been sick for some time now. He’s in the hospital…” His voice trailed off, the mention of his mentor’s deteriorating health seeming to bring him down.
Upon hearing Yvette’s words, the crowd fell into an even deeper state of disbelief. Could it be? Was Yvette actually Cyanbird? The young woman who had been missing for twenty years, now standing here in the flesh, was the internationally celebrated artist everyone had heard about?
It was a bombshell revelation. The Chambers family’s child, missing for decades, was not only alive but was also one of the most famous figures in the art world.
The realization spread like wildfire.
Some people, who had believed in Winona and her story, now began to question everything. If Yvette was Cyanbird, then that meant the painting Winona had was undoubtedly a fake.
Jeremiah, while surprised, wasn’t as shocked as the others. He had already known that Yvette was full of secrets, but this one was certainly unexpected. He had even bid on Cyanbird’s paintings before, and now it turned out that the artist he admired was right beside him all along.
Simon, on the other hand, had never imagined that Yvette had such an identity. But now that he knew she was also Cyanbird, it seemed like a natural fit. Some people were just born with extraordinary talents, and others, like Winona, could only envy them.
Richard, still leaning on his cane, walked over to Winona, his mind racing. He was struggling to come to terms with the revelation. Even if Yvette is Cyanbird, I can’t admit that Winona’s painting is a fake. If I do, I’ll lose all face.
He leaned close to Winona and whispered in her ear. She nodded, understanding exactly what he meant.
“Mr. Paben, stop playing along with Yvie,” Winona said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Everyone knows she grew up in the countryside. How could she possibly be Cyanbird? That’s ridiculous. We don’t believe you unless you bring Travis Rojas here to confirm it.”
Her words resonated with the crowd, and a sense of doubt started to creep in. After all, no one had ever seen Cyanbird in person. It was always Travis, the agent, who handled all the business dealings. Without his confirmation, who would believe that Yvette was really Cyanbird?
Just as the crowd was beginning to waver, Sienna stepped forward, her expression determined. She pulled out her phone and spoke clearly. “Finding Travis is easy. I have his contact information. Why not call him right now and confirm?”
Winona felt a surge of panic. She had forgotten that Sienna had come from Mysonna, and with her connections, reaching Travis was no challenge.
Richard’s face darkened, realizing that Sienna might very well have the means to expose the truth.
Sienna, unfazed, dialed Travis’s number, and the call was quickly answered. A young, handsome man appeared on the screen, dressed in a floral shirt with a beach backdrop behind him.
“Hey, Sienna, what
