Love or Die CEO’s Daily Dose of Swoon

Chapter 140

1. Aster?

The nsent a ripple of shock through the crowd gathered in the gallery. Eyes wide with disbelief, they turned to look, wondering if it was the srenowned artist they’d heard of.

Laurinda, however, was oblivious to the prestige. She hollered, “I don’t give a hoot of who he is. Fanny here is the president of the local art club, and she’s declared this painting worthless. So what are you rambling on about, eh?”

Fanny, the mentioned art club president, wished for nothing more than to vanish into thin air at that moment. But the more she wanted to escape the limelight, the more Laurinda sought her out, “Where’s Fanny?”

Pointing at Fanny, she demanded, “Well, Fanny, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Fanny’s lips quivered; she couldn’t muster a word and looked desperately towards Mrs. Collins for help.

Mrs. Collins felt a surge of vindication. She’d always thought Fanny spreading rumors about Mrs. Delaney was shady, and Fanny’s recent comment at the auction had pushed someone into an embarrassing spotlight, which

irked her.

This was her auction, a place where everyone showed respect. How dare anyone stir up trouble here, especially against the family of Joy’s beloved Cordelia?

So, the usually diplomatic and capable Mrs. Collins, who never embarrassed her guests, instead of smoothing things over for Fanny, slowly pronounced, “Laurinda, Fanny might be the head of the

Greenmeadow Art Association, but B. Aster is the chair of the National Fine Art Association!”

That little piece of information was a revelation for everyone present.

Silence fell upon the gathering. Sanderson, too, was stunned by the turn of events and was momentarily speechless.

Everard, on the other hand, turned around, his cool gaze sweeping across the Miller family who had just scoffed at them, and casually remarked, “Yes, he was a pawn we arranged.”

Ballaster was called in by Cordelia, so he was indeed a pawn, wasn’t he?

To the Millers, the implication was mortifying! Who in their right mind could get B. Aster to act as a pawn? The remark from the Delaney family’s son–in–law was pure mockery!

Hearing this, Sanderson couldn’t help but laugh, feeling even more satisfied with Everard.

At this point, Laurinda continued to twist the knife into Fanny, “But why on earth would Fanny say that? Their opinions couldn’t be more different!”

Mrs. Collins turned to Fanny, saying, “Indeed, I’m curious too. Why is your opinion so starkly different from B.

Aster’s?”

Cordelia spoke up leisurely, “Fanny, I wonder why, if B. Aster has been searching for the artist Lorn, you told him that Lorn had passed away?”

Ballaster, who had been admiring the painting “Lone Bluff,‘ finally caught up and frowned, “Fanny, you said you were Lorn’s roommate and that she had died, yet here she is, alive and well. What’s going on?”

Lorna was taken aback. Suddenly, she understood and stood up abruptly, “Fanny, you’ve been against me ever since college. It’s been eighteen years; why are you still like this?”

Connecting the dots, the crowd began to gossip and speculate, quickly grasping the situation.

“You see, Mrs. Delaney is actually an incredible artist!”

So, the story about her painting being pulled from the exhibition because of bribery–that was spread by Fanny, wasn’t it?”

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“She insisted that Mrs. Delaney’s painting was too amateurish, but B. Aster recognized it as a masterpiece, looks like deliberate sabotage to me.”

“Poor Mrs. Delaney.”

“Mrs. Delaney hasn’t painted for eighteen years; could it be because of Fanny’s oppression?”

The hurtful power of rumors was fully understood only by those who were trapped by them.

Fanny clenched her fists, defiantly proclaiming. “Art is subjective. Speople admire Van Gogh, while others do not care for his work. To me, this painting is indeed subpar, not my cup of tea. Is there a problem with that?” Lourinda, who had resented Lorna for years, eager to see her downfall, hastily added, “If this painting is so good, why didn’t it sell? What’s the use of painting well? It’s just a bunch of worthless paper. Go ahead and cash it in–talk is cheap. They say it’s priceless, but no one buys it. What’s the point of that statement?”

Before the echo of her words faded, a cool, deep voice spoke up, “1 million dollars.”

Cordelia froze at the familiar sound. Along with everyone else, she turned to see Everard raising his paddle.

1 million dollars… for a painting by an obscure artist?

Laurinda was dumbfounded, looking at Everard as if he were mad. Rachel nudged her, “That’s Lia’s boyfriend.”

Laurinda scoffed, “He’s just the owner of a small shop. Where’d he get the money? It must be Sanderson’s doing–just throwing money at Lorna to save face. Do they think we’re all fools?”

Then-

“$1.2 million!” another voice called out.

Cordelia, recognizing the voice, turned again in astonishment to see Louie in the crowd, raising his paddle.

Laurinda was stunned.

“$1.5 million!” Ballaster, who hadn’t yet left the stage, suddenly joined in, “Actually, this price isn’t high at all. The artistic conception of this painting is rare. It will undoubtedly becLorn’s most classic work.”

The auction staff were dumbfounded for quite a while. Just moments ago, the painting that almost went unsold for a mere $50,000 had, in the blink of an eye, skyrocketed to $1.5 million.

To put things into perspective, the highest bid of the day for any item had only reached $1 million until now!

With that thought, the staffer raised the gavel, “Any further bids? If not, it’s going to be sold for $1.5 million.”

“One million five hundred thousand going once…”

From within the crowd, a voice called out, “$1.6 million!”

1. Aster had declared it a masterpiece, and thus, it was surely worth a few million, perhaps even more.

The room’s energy surged.

Louie lifted his paddle again, “$2 million!”

Another bidder joined in, “$2.2 million!”

Laurinda was stunned by the escalating figures; she swallowed hard but maintained her composure as she blurted out, “No way it’s gonna go higher. What’s next, $10 million?”

Louie wasn’t backing down; he raised his paddle, “$2.5 million!”

He seemed determined to have the painting. As he called out $2.5 million, his gaze drifted towards a girl sitting in the front row.

Cordelia turned around, meeting his eyes. Typically reserved, she offered him a slight, encouraging smile.

This little exchange did not go unnoticed by Everard, who was always watching her. Cordelia’s smile was

Chapter 140

charming and confident.

With a lazy wave of his hand, he declared nonchalantly, “$10 million.”