Love or Die CEO’s Daily Dose of Swoon

Chapter 130

Cordelias e–ticket had already been scanned on her phone.

The security guard addressed Lorna with a nod. “You’re good to go in, ma’am.”

Lorna’s eyes widened in disbelief. She even glanced at Cordelia’s phone incredulously and questioned, “Is this ticket for real?”

The guard nodded affirmatively. “Yes, please enter and don’t hold up the line.”

Lorna, still in shock, followed Cordelia past the barriers, finally catching on. She turned back with a grin to Rachel who was still outside, “Oh, Lia got us six tickets. We could’ve taken you in with us, but since you’ve got your own, looks like you don’t need us! We’ll head on in then, catch ya later!”

With those words, spiked with a hint of sarcasm, Lorna took Cordelia by the hand and they walked deeper into the venue. After greeting Mrs. Brown and exchanging pleasantries, they joined the crowd.

Outside, Rachel paced anxiously. Though she hailed from an affluent family, her interests lay solely in piano, to her, watercolor painting seemed like a tedious pastime, unworthy of her attention. But she didn’t want Lorna to connect with Mrs. Brown so easily after all, those were her personal contacts!

–

However, after stewing for a moment, Rachel calmed down. Mrs. Brown was notoriously snobbish and difficult to please. Lorna, the bookworm, would surely fail to impress her, and there was no way she could handle the social graces expected of a lady.

Rachel even mused that Mrs. Brown might find Lorna dull!

Inside the art exhibit.

Mrs. Brown browsed the paintings with a critical eye, glancing at Lorna dismissively. She had heard from Rachel that Lorna was just a commoner who had married into the nouveau riche Delaney family a lineage that the old money crowd didn’t respect.

She had only waited out of politeness, her upbringing preventing her from being outright rude.

After exchanging a few perfunctory words, Mrs. Brown excused herself to view the paintings alone. But after taking a few steps, she overheard Cordelia’s voice, “Mom, is this also a watercolor painting?”

but curl her lip. They came to an art exhibit, yet couldn’t distinguish

of the spirit of the art infuses his oil paintings with the essence of painting. This piece, filled with longing for his homeland, embodies various life sentiments;

the painting, tilting her head, and sighed silently.

the

Cordelia’s confusion, Lorna sighed to herself.

astonishing. Cordelia could grasp the technical aspects of painting instantly, but her paintings lacked emotion- they were just trees and flowers

just three days. She can replicate any work with no difference from the original, but her own paintings lack feeling: they’re empty. She could be a great craftsman but

had comforted her, saying, “Painting is just a hobby for Lia, don’t be too hard on her. It’s not where her main focus lies.”

help but feel that someone as intelligent as Cordelia was capable of more So, she took it upon herself to do more than teach painting techniques she also shared the emotions and ideas she saw

artist is renowned for his depictions of cows. His works are filled with the sounds of nature, with a profound and powerful use of ink

voice was pleasant to listen to Raised in a scholarly family, she had an

little about it, as there had been too many things

“One’s inner developing naturally exudes literary grace,” which Mrs. Brown had always found abstract. But now, following Lorna, she felt transported to an ancient,

woman, prone to tears and out of her depth in high

those with deep knowledge, and Lorna’s humble demeanor, without a hint of showiness, only added to her appeal. As Lorna shared her insightful views

realizing it, she joined their

her phone buzzed. She checked it and saw

“At the

Painter, “Which painting?”

looked up and texted back, “The ‘Water Bamboo Residence.”

Painter, ‘Good.”

pondered the meaning of that ‘good,” wondering if the Painter was coming to meet them, Fanny patrolled the venue with her staff,

thought for a moment, then gestured to a

through the exhibit slowly, Lorna was in the midst of explaining a painting’s meaning, the sparse brushwork and dry ink

nodded in agreement, caught up in the

cocked her head, struggling to see the desolation in