Where Petals of Vengeance Bloom
Chapter 142
Chapter 138
Could her embroidery really be auction-worthy?
Back in prison, the guards often praised her needlework, but she never quite believed it was anything extraordinary. She just assumed she was a bit better than the others there.
Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that her work could fetch such a high price at auction.
Claire clutched Sean's phone tightly, her voice trembling a bit. "May I ask, sir, how much did you pay for this piece of embroidery?"
Sean noticed the shift in her demeanor and studied her with curiosity. "Two million."
In truth, the piece entitled "Radiant Beauty" was worth far more than two million, even more precious than "Eternal Life," which had sold for three million.
Unfortunately, "Radiant Beauty" was unfinished. Missing just a few final stitches, its value had been significantly reduced. Even if another embroiderer were to complete it, the differences in technique would be noticeable.
The peony embroidered on his suit jacket bore a striking resemblance to "Radiant Beauty." If she were the one to finish it, Sean thought, the difference would likely be undetectable.
Two million?
Her embroidery could be auctioned for two million?
Claire was overwhelmed by the revelation, as if waves of disbelief were crashing through her mind. Sean's mention of "two million" echoed in her head like a thunderclap, shattering her perception of her own skills.
the shock, causing her
screen.
take flight with a gentle breeze, and the pine branches were intricately detailed,
stunned
was her
calmly, "I purchased 'Eternal Life' last year for three million as a birthday gift for my
place, her eyes wide with shock, mouth agape,
Two million?
Three million?
to dream of such figures, yet
they treated her otherwise. No wonder the guards always seemed to protect her whenever she was engrossed in her work. Her hands were indeed invaluable. After the shock subsided, Claire
known her work was so valuable, she wouldn't have endured such humiliation at the Linwood family's hands for a
like a tide, bringing tears to her eyes.
she suppressed, the more her
over the bridge railing
was at a
twenty-eight years, it was the first time a woman had cried in front of him, leaving
and offered her a cigarette.
up, her eyes red
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