Chapter 402

Lillian's face darkened at Evelyn's laughter. "Did I say something inappropriate?"

Ever since being adopted by the Prescott family, she'd attended elite schools and even studied abroad for two years.

She refused to believe some uncultured nobody like Evelyn could outshine her.

Art had never been Lillian's passion, but her mother Genevieve was obsessed. She'd forced herself to study art history just to please her.

Yet the moment she opened those tedious books about theories and artists' lives, sleep would claim her. Eventually, she gave up and focused on other talents to impress her mother.

Lillian stole a glance at Dominic.

The man sat with perfect posture, his silence commanding the room. But when he poured Evelyn's tea, his entire demeanor transformed.

His piercing gaze softened. The corners of his lips curled into an indulgent smile.

Lillian's heart felt clawed by a wild beast - bloody, itching, burning.

She lowered her eyes in defeat.

Beatrice couldn't tolerate her son ignoring Lillian. Earlier, when Lillian confidently discussed the painting, her impression had improved. She didn't understand what went wrong.

Beatrice placed a scallop in Lillian's bowl. "See? This is what a cultured overseas education looks like. Far more refined than some provincial simpleton who's never traveled. I doubt certain people here could distinguish authentic art from forgeries, let alone appreciate it! Don't you agree, Father?"

Though she didn't name names, her disdainful glance at Evelyn spoke volumes.

Reginald Blackwood's expression darkened. He slammed his utensils down. "If you're ignorant, at least have the decency to stay quiet! You're embarrassing me!"

Beatrice didn't know Reginald had studied art history in his youth. He'd spent years in France, majoring in art before returning to build his empire.

While he'd left that world behind, his knowledge remained. Monet was among his favorite impressionists, with several originals in his collection.

Lillian's failed attempt at sophistication shattered Reginald's favorable opinion of her.

"Did I say something incorrect, Father?" Beatrice challenged.

Evelyn calmly interjected, "Aunt Beatrice, Monet was French, not English. And he was an impressionist, not a realist."

Beatrice nearly scoffed. What would some country girl know about art?

Reginald's eyes gleamed behind his glasses. "You know art history, young lady? Then tell me - does this painting depict sunrise or sunset?"

He pointed his cane at the water lilies hanging behind him.

Evelyn studied the painting intently, searching for clues. Without visible sky or stars, how could she tell?

Lillian watched coldly, anticipating Evelyn's humiliation.

Under the table, Dominic squeezed Evelyn's hand reassuringly.

She returned his gesture with a confident smile.

After careful examination, Evelyn answered, "It's sunrise, Mr. Blackwood. The dewdrops on the lily pads give it away. The water's light blue where shaded, golden where sunlit, and blue-green beneath the pads. Only morning light creates this effect. Nature itself reveals the truth."

For the first time, Reginald regarded Evelyn more favorably than Lillian.

His voice warmed. "I'm impressed by your knowledge. Tell me then - what are the major Western art movements? Their key figures and masterpieces?"

Evelyn answered flawlessly, even sharing amusing artist anecdotes.

Reginald chuckled at her witty responses, his admiration growing.

Lillian and Beatrice looked ashen. How had this happened?

Dinner had elevated Evelyn in Reginald's esteem while diminishing Lillian's standing.

Lillian returned home late to find Genevieve reading an art history tome in the living room.

Her elegant silhouette cast a tranquil shadow across the room.

For a fleeting moment, jealousy twisted Lillian's features.

Both Genevieve and Evelyn shared this passion for classical art. The realization unsettled her.

She took several steadying breaths before adopting a pitiful expression.

Genevieve set the book aside. "Have you eaten, darling? Shall I prepare something?"

Lillian shook her head dejectedly. "I dined at Blackwood Manor..."

Her pale lips pressed together, brows furrowed slightly.

Genevieve immediately noticed her daughter's distress. "What happened at the Blackwoods?" Her voice turned icy.