Chapter 14 When Her Hidden Identity Rot
Chapter 14 When Her Hidden Identity Rot
“Where’s your proof for such a claim?”
Sabrina refused to believe that her paintings contained excessive carcinogenic substances.
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Nydia stood tall and elegant in front of her, her tone crisp and measured. “My word is proof. The Cantrell Auction House’s name is proof.”
Cantrell Auction House was the largest and most prestigious auction house in the country.
In their world, if Cantrell wouldn’t touch an item, every other auction house would steer clear of it.
In other words, from this moment on, Mino’s paintings would be unsellable, and Sabrina couldn’t even give them away. No one wanted a ticking time bomb hanging on their wall.
From her seat, Alisa quietly savored the scene.
So Sabrina’s cover had been blown. So what?
Think she could still humiliate others with that? Not a chance.
When your hidden identity rots, can you still use it to your advantage?
No one in the room had expected the evening to turn out like this.
Many of them had showed up after hearing whispers that a painting by Mino would be auctioned tonight. They wanted to see it for themselves. What they hadn’t expected was a bombshell–Mino’s work allegedly tested high for radioactive carcinogens.
Good grief. Who would dare to buy her art now?
This wasn’t a masterpiece–it was a death sentence.
Originally, Nydia hadn’t intended to embarrass Sabrina so publicly. Her plan was simple: quietly pull the painting, have someone inform Sabrina, and maybe even offer her a private settlement.
That way, she could avoid offending the Wynnes while keeping her promise to Alisa.
༡ ཥ་བན་ ཇ་ ཆ་ མཻ འ ཚེ
Best of both worlds.
But she hadn’t anticipated Sabrina strutting around like she owned the place, making herself impossible to ignore.
At the end of the day, she was just an artist..
With admirers, she might be called an art master.
Without them, her work wasn’t worth the paper it was painted on.
Sabrina had expected that revealing her hidden identity would earn her respect and awe. Instead, the opposite happened.
She still didn’t believe her paintings had a problem.
But with Alisa making the claim–and now Nydia too–what could she say?
She glared at Nydia, her voice low and shaking with anger. “You’ve known my mentor for years. Can you swear, hand on heart, that there’s anything wrong with my paintings?”
But Nydia, a seasoned strategist, refused to take the bait.
Her expression softened, almost like a gentle elder. “Sabrina, it’s precisely because I’ve known your mentor so well that I’ll pretend you just said something foolish. Someone, please escort Ms. Nelson out. We’ve delayed the auction long enough. Let’s get started.”
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Chapter 14 When Her Hidden Identity Rot
Before Sabrina could argue, Nydia’s secretary had dragged her out.
As she was hauled away, Nydia and Alisa exchanged a brief glance.
Alisa chuckled lightly and praised, “Sharp judgment, Mrs. Cantrell.”
Nydia lowered her eyes, smiling politely–a small gesture, yet it carried a trace of deference.
Then she walked off with her staff.
That single exchange told Sabrina everything she needed to know.
She shot Alisa a glare so full of venom it could have burned through steel until she was forced to leave the scene.
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Once the commotion ended, the auction finally began.
Alisa and Preston each won a piece–an antique vase and a folding screen–to present as birthday gifts to Vania.
On their way out, Alisa stopped by Nydia’s office.
Nydia was waiting. The moment she saw Alisa, she rose from her chair and greeted her respectfully. “Ms. Alisa.”
“You did well today,” Alisa said.
“I only went with the flow,” Nydia replied humbly. “Would you care for some tea?”
“Nah. Preston’s waiting downstairs. I just came to check in.”
With that, Alisa turned to leave.
Nydia stepped forward a few paces, but once she saw Alisa heading down the stairs, she turned back.
Just then, her secretary entered with a tray of tea. With Alisa nowhere in sight, the secretary frowned. “She’s gone already? Didn’t even stay for a drink? That’s kind of rude-‘
Nydia’s gaze locked onto her, sharp enough to silence the room. You don’t get to criticize her. Leave the tea and go.”
The secretary froze, then quickly set down the tray and slipped out.
Word of the evening’s auction drama spread fast.
Back home, Preston retold the story to Megan as if it were the night’s best joke.
“Mino?” Megan chuckled and marveled. “Who’d have guessed? And she was trying to sell paintings to pay off her family’s debts? I can’t! Gosh! This is hilarious! No one would buy her painting now.”
She tilted her head. “But Preston, is it true? That her paintings have dangerous levels of radioactive material?”
Mino had been famous for years. If there’d been a problem, surely it would’ve leaked long ago.
A claim like that–whenever it broke–was explosive enough to destroy a reputation built over decades.
Rreston shrugged. “No idea. Alisa’s the one who said it first.”
They both turned to the girl lounging beside them, silently scrolling through her phone.
“How’d you hear about it?” Megan asked.
Alisa looked up and offered a light smile. “Nydia told me. We’ve run into each other at the hotel a few times, and we get along
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Chapter 14 When Her Hidden Identity Rot
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well.”
She had barely taken over the hotel, yet their cousin was close enough with Nydia for her to share insider news?
Neither Megan nor Preston thought to question it.
“So that’s it,” Megan said.
“That’s it,” Alisa replied, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Preston, Megan, I’m heading up for a nap. Feeling a little tired.”
“Go on,” Megan said. “Oh–Cordelia wants us over at the Garner Residence for dinner the day after tomorrow.”
“Alright,” Alisa said, and left.
Her expression cooled the moment she stepped out of sight. She pulled out her phone and dialed Ricky.
“Ms. Alisa,” Ricky’s voice came at once, respectful, “it’s confirmed. Mrs. Cantrell was telling the truth. I bribed a maid at the Green estate and got a hair sample. DNA results show Edwin Green and Wallace Green aren’t related–no father–son connection.”
A flicker of dark satisfaction lit Alisa’s eyes.
“Print me a copy. I’ll need it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When the call ended, Alisa returned to her room.
Across the glass pane of the window, lines of names were scrawled in tight, neat handwriting.
The first read Mino. She picked up a black marker and drew a bold slash through it.
Her gaze shifted to the next line, written in a hurried hand: Needle Sage.
That would be the next identity Sabrina would expose.
A few days earlier, Alisa had written down every alias Sabrina carried in the original story–each one revealed in turn, each one more formidable than the last.
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