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.”

The Delaney family had money, and with enough cash, they could indeed buy her a

that.

even though they had recovered that fifty million, Sanderson had reinvested it

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

her reticence, Sanderson

that her grandparents had arrived. Her grandfather, battling with mental issues and mobility problems, lived with her grandmother in a room downstairs, which was already tidied

seeing them, Cordelia’s eyes lit up as she approached her

“Miss me, Lia?”

Cordelia hesitated, “…Yeah.”

Chapter 120

sighed, “Is it me you missed, or my collection of classic novels?”

“…Both.”

more, me or the books?”

she was eight instead of eighteen? Her bemused expression only made Mathilda laugh

“Alright, alright, no more jokes. Let’s see what books I’ve brought you!”

followed her into the

of the elders moving in, so they had installed

of books were yet to be shelved on

of the boxes and handed Cordelia a rare, out–of–print edition of “Elemental Chemistry,” a book that

her grandfather, Lacy Wilson, also entered the room.

from typical mental patients, very quiet, sometimes mute and introverted, other times

closely, then smiled and

with resignation, “He’s confused again.”

mind. She gently held Lacy’s hand, trying to guide him to the sofa, but he gestured for silence, “Lorna, come here. I’ve got something great

bookshelf, searching for a while before handing her a magazine, “Look at

saw it was a scientific research project

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

this. Take it, otherwise,

and chemistry book out just as Sanderson arrived from work. He greeted

over, confused, and to her surprise, she saw a familiar figure following

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