Love or Die CEO’s Daily Dose of Swoon

Chapter 132

Fanny’s face darkened. She had never imagined that a mere painting would prompt Naylor to invoke the name of B Aster, but she quickly regained her composure, saying, “Well then, if Mr. Aster is available But isn’t he in a meeting right now?”

The current exhibit was meant to celebrate the culture of the Superiority Country, so the Art Association was taking it very seriously, with endless meetings to discuss the details.

Navlor coughed and glanced at his watch, “About another half–hour, I reckon.”

Fanny hummed in response, then added with a pointed tone. “I’m curious, does Mr. Finegan know the artist of this painting?”

Her question made the underlying message clear to everyone present.

Someone spoke up. “Why would a nobody’s work be critiqued by a giant of Watercolor Painting? What’s the story behind this artist?”

Lorna’s face turned even paler. She looked to Cordelia, “Lia, I want to go home.”

Cordelia supported her, her eyes clouded with confusion and helplessness.

It seemed Lorna was hurt, but Cordelia, ever the awkward comforter, could only nod, her voice unexpectedly gentle, “Okay”

She helped Lorna to the exit.

Mrs. Brown tried to console her, “Mrs. Delaney, your painting is quite impressive; don’t take it to heart.”

Lorna mustered a weak smile and staggered out.

The car ride home was steeped in silence. Cordelia didn’t know how to break the quiet. She fiddled with her phone and sent a message. [Hey, are you free?]

Mr. All–Round replied, [What’s up?]

LearnLover said, [My mother’s painting was criticized today, and she’s feeling down. How do I comfort her?]

Mr. All–Round replied,I suggest you say nothing.)

Cordelia paused, then after a moment, a longer message arrived.

Mr. All–Round said,[Your mother always aims to maintain the image of a good mother in front of you. She wouldn’t want to show her vulnerability and frustration. Any comfort you offer might only add to her sense of shame.]

[Okay] After sending the message, she recounted the incident

heading

car soon arrived

than tears. As soon as they entered the living room, her

the phone, “Lorna, someone wants to buy

lit

There was a

artists‘ works commanded more, particularly for a

fetch at least a few hundred, not to mention the

bucks. It was an

tightened, a struggle evident in

the phone, “Sorry, my mom’s not

caller paused, then agreed, “Alright.”

hanging up, Cordelia handed the phone

confidence was too much to hide, she stumbled into her room, bypassing Mathilda, who emerged to speak.

puzzled, “What

of the

years. But Fanny is clearly trying to break your

painting or writing, the work is tied to the

=

in herself,

looked upstairs, worried.

outside, and Sanderson strode into the house, “Where’s your mom?”

studio upstairs.”

headed up, “I’ll check on

and she sighed, “Back in the day, your dad was the least noticeable. among your mom’s suitors. Turns out she chose right. Why am I telling you this?

the breeze flutter the

desk.

at the brushes and paper that had once been her life, haunted by Fanny’s words, “It seems the artist hasn’t painted in years… the brushstrokes

– it had indeed been eighteen years since she’d last picked

to catch a glimpse of a renowned art exhibit and became engrossed. By the time she snapped back

felt, she blamed herself entirely, which is why she