Noah Grant seed to have heard a joke, clenching his jaw impatiently with a light snort, "Heh, she really thinks she’s sothing!"
"Vera Sheridan doesn’t care about her at all, she’s not eager to beco the Grant Family’s daughter-in-law!"
Under the streetlight, Noah Grant’s face was filled with disdain, feeling ashad of his mother’s actions.
Two years ago, Vera Sheridan laid her cards on the table with him. After the failure of her previous marriage, she didn’t want to repeat the sa mistake and just wanted to focus on rehabilitation and training, which she indeed did.
He expressed that he wouldn’t give up and respected her, interacting with her in a way that made her comfortable.
They developed a silent understanding between them: more than friendship, less than lovers.
Nathan Grant breathed a sigh of relief, "It’s good that Vera doesn’t care, otherwise it would be quite awkward and hurtful."
After a pause, he added helplessly, "Bro, I’ve also been set up, with that third Miss from the Everett Family, sigh..."
Unlike Noah Grant, who rebelled back then and had long achieved personal independence, Nathan Grant, like most young n from distinguished families, was tad by the survival rules of the family; career and marriage were not for him to decide.
Noah Grant’s gaze fell on Vera Sheridan, who was socializing with guests in the gallery, his eyebrows softening slightly, "Let Ms. Morgan continue her antics and one-man show, the one who’ll be embarrassed in the end is herself!"
Hanging up the phone, he walked steadily towards the center of the crowd—Vera Sheridan.
As soon as he appeared, all surrounding gazes turned to him.
This second master of the Grant Family, having left the legal field, now held significant influence in the business world, being a true spokesman in The Capital Circle.
Everyone watched as he walked to Vera Sheridan’s side, naturally handing her a glass of champagne. The two stood together talking, looking relaxed and familiar.
Everyone present was clear in their hearts: his presence here was an unspoken endorsent, indicating that "Glimr·Reflection" had Noah Grant backing it.
After a while, a sudden commotion arose in the hall.
Several n in black suits and white gloves carefully carried in a large black-draped frad painting.
The leader walked over to Noah Grant, his voice steady, "Mr. Grant, your painting has arrived."
Noah Grant didn’t say much, just gently took Vera Sheridan’s wrist, leading her to the painting fra.
He glanced over the guests present, speaking in a usual tone, "Today marks the opening of Vera’s gallery, and as a friend, I’m gifting her a painting."
"Van Gogh’s ’Montmartre Street Scene.’
Vera Sheridan visibly froze, her eyes widening slightly.
Instantly, low gasps and murmurs filled the air around.
It was well-known that most of Van Gogh’s originals hung in major museums. Rumor had it this ’Montmartre Street Scene’ was bought by a private buyer at an auction in Parnassus...
Could it really be in Noah Grant’s possession?
The hall suddenly fell silent; everyone stared at the black-draped painting.
Noah Grant placed Vera Sheridan’s hand on the cloth covering the painting and, seeing her still slightly dazed, whispered, "Unveil it."
With a slight movent of her fingers, Vera gently pulled away the black cloth.
As the canvas was revealed, it showcased Van Gogh’s familiar, vividly colorful brushstrokes.
After a brief silence, the entire hall erupted!
Everyone started taking pictures, and knowledgeable artists and collectors couldn’t wait to get closer, pulling out magnifying glasses to examine closely.
Soon, soone exclaid, "It’s authentic!"
Vera Sheridan also gasped, looking toward Noah Grant.
As she knew, this painting had appeared in the news a few years ago, reportedly bought by a private collector for 13 million euros. Now that it was in Noah Grant’s hands, it must have gone through several price hikes...
"Senior, this is too precious," she whispered, leaning closer to him.
Noah Grant’s lips curved slightly as he turned to look at her, his gaze calm, "It’s just a small gesture. This painting should be here where more people can appreciate its artistic value, only then is it truly utilized."
This was indeed his heartfelt sentint.
It expressed his intention and also highlighted the significance of the gift.
Listening to his words, Vera Sheridan looked at his handso, mature face, feeling her heart flutter.
The original purpose of her gallery was also to promote art and help so struggling artists as much as possible.
eting her gaze, Noah Grant’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his smile deepening as he leaned close to her ear, his voice husky, "Why do you look like you’re about to eat , hmm?"
Vera rolled her eyes at him, "Ignoring you, guests have arrived."
"The painting will stay for the exhibition," implying she didn’t truly accept it.
With that, she casually walked away in her stilettos.
The new guests were Chloe Everett, wife of Jasper Crowe.
Seeing her erald silhouette, a hint of surprise flashed in Vera Sheridan’s eyes, but she quickly smiled and approached gracefully, "Mrs. Crowe, welco."
Chloe Everett wore an exquisite Parnassian qipao, the erald hue complenting her porcelain skin, giving her an aura of composed grace, embodying the elegant deanor of a respected daughter-in-law from a noble family.
"Vera, I was taking an evening stroll nearby and heard a new gallery opened here, so I thought I’d stop by, surprised to see you’re the owner." She had a gentle smile and a voice laced with the distinctive charm of Southedge.
The Everett Family had its roots in the south and was a highly influential noble family there.
"Really, what a coincidence." Vera naturally replied, as if hosting any esteed guest, "Please co in, Mrs. Crowe, we’re newly opened and would appreciate your guidance."
Chloe Everett followed her into the hall, her gaze slowly sweeping over the surroundings as she warmly praised, "The atmosphere and taste here are excellent, truly reflective of your vision."
She paused montarily on the far-off Van Gogh original before looking back at Vera, "There are quite a few guests, you should go attend to them. I’ll just have a look around."
"Alright, please feel free, and call if you need anything." Vera smoothly agreed and turned to attend to another group of guests.
Chloe Everett lingered alone, leisurely moving through the gallery.
Plain-clothes bodyguards discreetly protected her.
Many socialites who recognized her exchanged subtle glances, quietly weighing the significance behind "Glimr·Reflection."
Before leaving, Chloe purchased a representative piece by a well-known dostic artist for one million.
Vera escorted her to the gallery entrance, where Chloe nodded slightly before getting into a bulletproof Hongqi sedan waiting by the roadside.
As the car turned the corner, Chloe dialed Jasper Crowe’s number, her voice still gentle, "Mr. Crowe, I visited Vera’s gallery and bought a painting."
"She seed in great spirits, radiant, and the Grant Family’s second son, Noah Grant, was there all night."
Chloe knew Jasper had sent her over to support Vera.
On the other end, in the hospital’s VIP ward, Jasper Crowe’s gaze fell on Ian Kane, still comatose in the hospital bed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and spoke softly, "Thank you, Mrs. Crowe."
Chloe replied with a faint "Mm."
Without any further conversation, the couple ended the call.
Jasper tossed his phone aside, vigorously ruffled Ian’s hair, looking at the graying roots, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he gritted his teeth, "Can’t you show so damn progress?"
Typically indifferent, yet exuding a tone of frustrated disappointnt.
In the alleyway, Ian Kane had fainted from a rush of blood, his hair roots turning completely white.
On the hospital bed, he lay motionless, his face as pale as paper. Jasper clenched his fists, his phone rang again, showing a call from the old man, straightening his back instantly.
He strode over to the other room.
"Jasper, I’m heading to the ward in a mont to discuss Ian Kane’s matter with you." Kane Crowe’s voice remained sober on the phone.
Having the old man personally co to the hospital...
Jasper’s heart suddenly sank as he instinctively looked toward the hospital bed, thinking: Ian Kane, you’re really done this ti!
The Crowe Family’s discarded heir!
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