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“Grandpa knows how long I slaved over that painting, and even if sis took over the gallery, she can’t just chuck it out like that. I know she’s always treated me like I don’t belong, like I’m the black sheep of the family, and it’s all my fault.”
Seeing Yvonne sobbing her heart out, Tristan couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy, “Chill out. Yvonne. Let’s wait for Noella to get back and we’ll get the lowdown on the whole thing.”
Yvonne was almost beside herself with frustration.
Just wait till that bumpkin shows up and see what she has to say! She thought.
If the Schnabel family got wind that she’s targeting me on purpose, they’d kick her out on her ear for sure.
An hour later. Palmer parked the car at the gates of the Horwich Mansion.
“I can’t stick around for a visit today: got a bit of a situation at the office. Apologize to your grandpa and grandma for me, will ya?”
Noella nodded at the car door, “Yeah, don’t sweat it about dropping by for grub when you’re swamped. We can catch up on the blower if anything’s up.”
Deep down she knew Palmer’s recent busyness was all about carving out time to meet up with Thorpe.
Now that she’s set on meeting Thorpe, having the folks from Polaris Star and Obelisk Organization in her corner was enough. She’d be ready for whatever came her way.
Palmer, lounging in the plush car seat, caught wind of her words and suddenly lifted his gaze. His eyes sparkled as he looked at the girl before him, “I wanna be there with you.”
He’d been burning the midnight oil and crunching financial statements while waiting for her–all just to spend time with her.
After all this time together, Palmer had a pretty good read on his fiancée’s temperament.
“The gifts for my grandpa and grandma will be delivered. You go on in.” Noella, under his intense gaze, felt her cheeks heat up and turned to enter the Horwich Mansion.
Only after her figure had vanished behind the doors did Palmer start up the car engine and leave the Horwich Mansion.
Sienna spotted Noella walking in and immediately went to greet her, “Sweetheart, did you eat your fill tonight? Mr. Pollack called to say you dined together, so we didn’t save dinner for you. Want me to whip up something?”
Noella was touched that Palmer had even thought to give Sienna a heads–up, “I’m good, no need to cook.”
Sienna peeked behind Noella a few times, but there was no sign of Palmer.
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*Sweetie, did Mr. Pollack head out? Why not invite him in for a quick drink before he left?” she asked.
“He had stuff to do so he had headed back to the office.
Sienna had worried that Noella and Palmer might have had a falling out over dinner, but hearing that Palmer had gone back to work, she breathed a sigh of relief.
With the company that busy and still making time for a meal with Noella, it was clear Palmer was serious about his future with their daughter.
Merrick was also quite taken with Palmer.
Ever since they met on the yacht, he could tell Palmer was super protective of the girl by his side–that look in his eyes was unmistakable. It was just like the way he looked at his own missus.
Merrick cleared his throat and glanced at Yvonne, who was still perched on the sofa, “Noella, Yvonne’s saying you’ve lost one of her paintings. What’s the deal?”
Noella caught on that Yvonne had run to Merrick to snitch, “The painting was a copy and shouldn’t be hanging in the original section. I had the gallery manager take care of it. The so–called ‘creator‘ insists it’s original, but I don’t think it fits our gallery.”
The painting was a copy?
Merrick nodded; although he thought the painting had perfect composition and lighting. Yvonne really didn’t have the aesthetic sense or the skill for it.
Yvonne bit her lip, looking forlorn, “Why do you get to say it’s a copy? It’s really my own creation. If you don’t want my stuff in your gallery, just tell me. There’s no need to humiliate me like this…”
Noella frowned slightly. Was she implying she’d been singled out?
All this fuss over a painting that was actually still hanging in her study, using such a flimsy excuse to smear her seemed downright petty.
Noella stated coolly. “Because the real deal is in my study. The original piece called ‘The Mountain Portray‘ is by Master Killian. Your painting just so happens to be a carbon copy of Master Killian’s work.”
Sienna remembered there were indeed several oil paintings hanging in Noella’s study. She thought her daughter liked oil paintings and had specially ordered several of Master Killian’s pieces to surprise Noella.
Yvonne’s eyes bulged!
The original was in Noella’s study?!
Impossible!
And Noella could even name the painting–Yvonne had seen it once at a private exhibition and
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remembered it.
It must be a gift from the Schnabel family parents to Noella, or else how could that bumpkin get ahold of a Master Killian original?
Thinking of the Schnabel parents‘ boundless affection for Noella, Yvonne’s face contorted with jealousy. “That painting is my original work. I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Merrick glanced between the ever–composed Noella and the wide–eyed, agitated Yvonne, and his suspicions were confirmed, “Alright, Yvonne, you should head off. Your dad said he’d give you his small gallery. If you like painting that much, focus on running it well.”
Yvonne couldn’t fathom why Merrick refused to belleve her.
Was it just because they weren’t blood–related?
All this should’ve been hers.
Seeing things resolved, Tristan also breathed a sigh of relief.
As long as his precious daughter wasn’t being wronged, everything else was just water under the bridge.
“You go take care of your grandma at the hospital. I’ll have someone send your painting over.” He announced.
“Okay, I got it.” Yvonne gritted her teeth, not wanting to give in but also scared of Noella giving her a hard time, so she grabbed her purse from the couch and bolted from the Horwich Mansion.
The moment she stepped outside, she hailed a cab to the Imperial West Hospital and collapsed. beside Ashlyn’s bed in tears, “Granny! How can they treat me like this? Noella tossed out the painting I slaved over for two months! And she accused me of copying.”
Ashlyn’s ears perked up. This was not going to fly, she mused.
“What did your dad say?” she asked.
“Dad told me to let it go. He said we shouldn’t sweat the small stuff as a family. E…even if we’re not blood–related, Dad shouldn’t play favorites like this. I mean, you basically raised me from scratch, and Dad doesn’t seem to care about your feelings at all.”
Not blood–related? Ashlyn lay back down, squinted her eyes, and pondered for a while.
“Hand me my phone, I need to call Tristan.”
“Granny, please don’t fight with Dad over me, I’m okay.” Yvonne sobbed.
But Yvonne said this while passing Ashlyn her phone, worried that if she was too slow, her granny might change her mind.
Tristan was out shopping for the latest fashion for their darling daughter when he picked up the call. “What’s up?”
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Hearing the laughter and joy on the other end, and thinking about how she was alone in the chilly hospital room with no visitors, Ashlyn’s temper flared.
“How dare you ask? I’ve been sick for so long, and you can’t even come to see me?” she
scowled.
Tristan’s mood instantly deflated when he heard Ashlyn’s voice, “Haven’t I arranged for over twenty caregivers for you? Isn’t that enough?”
“What good are caregivers? They can’t match the care from your own flesh and blood. The old lady in the bed next to me has her son and daughter–in–law looking after her personally. Guess I’m just not that lucky.”
