And The Daddy Is… The Infertile Guy?!

Chapter 40

“Someone must’ve lined your pockets, the way you’re talking. Grand Gavel Auction House has never once had a fake pass through its doors!” Vivien flushed a deep crimson, her voice breaking through the tense atmosphere like a siren’s wail.

Sean shook his head sadly. “The paper’s age is spot on, and the ink and inkstone are the real deal! But the painting is a forgery! The forger’s skill was so divine that it even fooled me. Just get close to the painting, take a good sniff, and you’ll catch the scent of fresh ink hidden beneath the artificial aging.” This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

A painting that’s been around for ages should have lost its ink fragrance long ago.

“No way!”

“Who would dare to sniff a painting that close, no wonder.”

“A fake, after all. I knew something was off with Serene Harmony vanishing from history!”

The forger was clever, using paper from the Renaissance to throw the experts off the scent.

Bainbridge felt as though he’d just had a bucket of ice water dumped over him, freezing him to his core.

“No… it can’t be!” Vivien bit her lip, her face a fiery red, “Bainbridge, don’t listen to him. This old fool…”

Π

Bainbridge pushed her aside, veins bulging on his neck like ropes, “Shut it, you nosy woman.

Sean sighed repeatedly, “Mr. Bainbridge, what a shame! If only I’d arrived sooner… But a fake’s a fake, and no amount of wishing changes that. We all know Grand Gavel Auction House’s rules.”

Once the deal was done, the buyer assumed all risk.

Bainbridge’s thirty–five million had gone down the drain, and now he’d be the laughing stock for not spotting a fake from triumph to tragedy in an instant.

Howard set down his cup, his face pale with shock, “Bainbridge, thanks for bidding high. The painting’s a fake, but nobody can top that thirty–five million of filial piety.”

Bainbridge was seeing red, heat flooding his face and the taste of blood filling his mouth. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

“Mr. Bainbridge!”

“Bainbridge, don’t scare me! Call an ambulance!”

Jeannie covered her lips, suppressing a laugh. “Ha! He’s passed out from pure rage, what goes around comes around.”

“Let’s go.” Howard was cool and detached, his austerity adding an air of asceticism to his

demeanor.

Gwendolyn sparkled her eyes with mischief as she pushed his wheelchair out of the auction house. His good mood was infectious, and she couldn’t help but feel uplifted.

Jeannie followed, chattering away.

“He really can’t handle losing. If he’d just owned up to the fake, everyone would’ve admired his grace. But passing out from anger? How petty.”

Jeannie boasted with pride, “Howard is different.”

Gwendolyn agreed wholeheartedly.

“I’ve called the driver to take you home,” Howard said as they left the auction house.

“What? I have to leave you so soon?” Jeannie pouted, “Alright then, I’ll head off. Don’t want to intrude on your little romance. Gwendolyn, take care.”

“Goodbye, be safe.” Gwendolyn waved as Jeannie got into the car.

Then, the chauffeur helped Howard into the sleek and black Rolls–Royce, with Gwendolyn taking her place beside him. Her thoughts whirled, unable to settle after the day’s tumultuous

events.

As night fell and the streetlights cast a warm and amber glow, Gwendolyn’s form was bathed in a soft and orange hue. Her clear, tender gaze and cascading black hair framed her swan–like neck, glowing pale in the light.

“Mr. Chadwick.”

“What?” Howard turned his head lazily, his voice a seductive drawl.

She watched him for a long moment before whispering softly to him. “I think today you were… a little naughty.”