Chapter 120

Lorna replied indifferently. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

Fanny chuckled, “What do you mean what’s it to me? Have you forgotten who I am? I’m the chairwoman of the Greenmeadow Art Association. You want to sell your paintings, you’ve got to go through me.”

The Greenmeadow Art Association was a community organization, but in Greenmeadow, all the painters and artists would show Fanny some respect.

Lorna got the message in an instant, “Are you behind this?” she asked.

Fanny’s voice turned icy. “So what if I am? Yesterday, you played your little game, made Calvert block my daughter on social media, now don’t blame me for not playing nice with you.”

Lorna’s fingers clenched.

Her paintings had been up for sale for a long time without a buyer. Considering Calvert’s incident happened just yesterday, it was clear Fanny had been targeting her for a while.

What grudge could last eighteen years?

Fanny sneered again, “I didn’t do much, really. But you, thinking you’re some kind of top artist? One painting and you expect to rock the watercolor world? Honey, you haven’t touched a brush in eighteen years. Have you even seen the mess you’ve been painting?”

Truth be told, Lorna felt a bit shaky. She felt her recent works were on par with those from eighteen years ago, perhaps even more mature, but that was just her opinion. She didn’t know what the world thought of her art.

Fanny’s words shattered her regained confidence, and her fork dropped onto the plate with a clatter.

She took a deep breath, asking, “Is there anything else?”

Fanny scoffed, Seriously, in our field, who’s to say who’s a superstar and who’s a dud? It all comes down to who gets the big desk. Cross me, and you’ll get nowhere in Greenmeadow. I’ll enjoy watching you fall!”

Lorna, trembling with anger, didn’t wait for another word and hung up.

Tears welled up, catching the attention of Sanderson, who inquired, “What’s wrong?”

Lorna glanced at him and shook her head, “It’s nothing.”

were laymen, and an artist’s reputation was often hyped up. The Delaney family had money, and with enough cash, they could indeed buy her a reputation. But she didn’t

that.

to pay her way, and besides, even though they had recovered that fifty million, Sanderson had reinvested it into the business, putting a strain on their

Sanderson, there was a barrier between the art world and the business world; other than throwing money to promote someone, there wasn’t much

reticence, Sanderson sighed,

mobility problems, lived with her grandmother in a room downstairs, which was already tidied up, and

eyes lit up as

her, “Miss me, Lia?”

Cordelia hesitated, “…Yeah.”

Chapter 120

missed, or my collection of classic

“…Both.”

or the books?”

childish. Was her grandmother treating her like she was eight instead of

then said, “Alright, alright, no more jokes. Let’s see what

followed her into the room.

they had installed a spacious suite on the ground floor, with an adjoining study and living room leading

were yet to be shelved

edition of

book, her grandfather, Lacy Wilson, also

was different from typical mental patients, very quiet, sometimes mute and introverted,

closely, then

said with resignation,

trying to guide him to the sofa, but he gestured for silence, “Lorna, come here.

while before handing

a scientific research

like a treasure, “This could be worth a fortune in patent fees. It’ll be your wedding

this. Take it, otherwise,

out just as Sanderson arrived from work. He

surprise, she saw a familiar figure following Sanderson into

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