Chapter 12 The Illusion of Superiority
Chapter 12 The Illusion of Superiority
Sabrina had no one to blame but herself for ending up in the wrong place.
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Not only had she shown up at the wrong venue, but she’d marched in like she owned it–going so far as to demand Preston swallow her invitation. If that wasn’t unreasonable, nothing was.
The crowd turned to look at her, their expressions lined with open disdain.
By now, the auction was about to begin.
The lights dimmed, and the auctioneer stepped onstage with a microphone, ready to greet the guests–only to sense the tense atmosphere in the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said carefully, “the auction is about to start. Please, return to your seats.”
His words had about as much effect as a whisper in a hurricane.
Preston turned on him sharply. “There’s a woman here holding an invitation that doesn’t even belong to this hall. How does your staff work, exactly? Do you let just anybody wander in? Is this auction house that desperate to stay in business?”
The auctioneer blinked, caught off guard. “I–I beg your pardon?”
Alisa, her lashes lowered, tugged lightly at Preston’s sleeve. “Preston, let’s go back to our seats. Let the staff handle this.”
After all, Sabrina’s blunder was the auction house’s problem to resolve.
Preston sticking his neck out would only give Sabrina a bigger target to hit.
Alisa had already set her plan in motion; she didn’t need Preston complicating it.
He clearly wanted to press the matter, but when his cousin blocked him, he decided to let this go..
Because he didn’t want to spoil her mood.
If Alisa hadn’t been here with him tonight, Sabrina wouldn’t have gotten off so easily.
“Fine,” he said at last.
He nodded at Alisa, then walked with her back to their seats.
Around thern, guests exchanged surprised looks. Preston was infamous for his short fuse, and yet–he’d actually listened to Alisa.
Many had expected a showdown as dramatic as Cordelia’s wedding fiasco, only for one of the main actors to leave the stage.
Without him, the drama lost half its spark.
But this, of course, was all part of Alisa’s design.
Once they were seated, the staff checked Sabrina’s invitation and found it was for the consignor’s gallery.
“Ms. Nelson, you’re in the wrong hall. This is Al. You’re supposed to be in Bl.”
In the past, consignors had been seated in Al so they could watch their pieces sell in person–a tradition that had lasted over a –decade.
But a few days ago, an unexpected order from higher up moved them to the adjacent Bl room, with live feeds replacing in- person viewing.
No one knew why, but orders were orders.
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Chapter 12 The Illusion of Superiority
“Where’s Bl?” Sabrina asked coolly.
“I’ll have someone escort you,” the staff member said.
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Before they could leave, Alisa propped her chin on one hand and asked, “Wait–since Ms. Nelson is a consignor, what piece is she selling tonight?”
Preston lounged back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “The Nelsons are buried in debt. Their house is already with the bank. What could they possibly have worth auctioning? Are you sure your staff didn’t make a mistake?”
The staffer, unwilling to offend either of them, gave a nervous smile. “Give me a minute; I’ll check Ms. Nelson’s submission.”
Sabrina flicked her wrist and spoke with unshakable confidence. “No need. My lot is Mino’s Sunset Bloom. I doubt you’ve even heard of it.”
Mino was an internationally celebrated artist–a Cudrean who’d studied under watercolor painter Wynne Sharp.
Mino had held exhibitions overseas while still young, introducing the art from Cudreau to the world.
Among young painters, she stood firmly in the top tier, her reputation extending far beyond national borders. Reclusive to a fault, Mino had never shown her face to the public; only her assistant and Wynne knew her personally.
And now Sabrina was implying that Alisa and Preston were too ignorant to recognize the name.
“I came tonight specifically because Sunset Bloom was on the list,” someone murmured in the audience. Can’t believe the consignor is Sabrina …
“I saw it once at an overseas exhibit,” another gushed. “Her brushwork is extraordinary. Rumor is she made the pigments from crushed flower petals mixed with perfume. The painting was gorgeous–and fragrant. Even framed, you could smell it from across the room. I’ve been dying to see it again.”
The praise drifted toward Sabrina, and her smirk deepened.
If they were this excited just from hearing the title, imagine the reaction once she revealed herself as the painter.
Tonight would be her grand debut.
འ འ ཟ འ ཨེ་ཐ་ཚ
Sabrina’s jab lit a fresh spark of anger in Preston. As the story’s designated villain, he was never one to hide behind gentlemanly manners–if anything, he wanted nothing more than to slap that smug look right off her face.
But Alisa stopped him again.
Resting her chin on her hand, her voice smooth and unhurried, she said, “Sunset Bloom? Are you sure? Perhaps it should be verified. I’ve heard from an authoritative source that Sunset Bloom was found to contain dangerously high levels of carcinogens in the paint. Something that could literally kill someone, and it’s still up for auction?”
She tilted her head slightly. “And there are actually people willing to bid on it? Not worried they might hang it on their wall and end up with leukemia before the month’s over?”
Sabrina’s eyes widened. Impossible.
She knew her own painting–didn’t she?
This had to be slander, Lies. Nothing but lies.
She opened her mouth to fire back, but before she could speak, the auctioneer’s earpiece crackled.
The order came from the general manager: Sunset Bloom was to be pulled from the auction immediately, and they would never work with Mino again.
Sabrina’s composure shattered. “Alisa, you’re just making things up! What gives you the right to talk about art—you, who grew up as a servant? Do you even know what art is?”
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Chapter 12 The Illusion of Superiority
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That was it.
Sabrina looked down on Alisa.
The contempt in her voice wasn’t new–it was something that lived deep in her bones.
Alisa had been sold into the Nelsons‘ household as a child bride, serving there for 13 years. She’d never been treated as family -only as help.
And in Sabrina’s mind, if Alisa was the servant, then she was the employer.
It was a hierarchy Sabrina had always taken for granted.
From the very beginning, she’d never seen Alisa as an equal–never even considered it.
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