Chapter 150

The phone rang four times before a woman answered in Solterran. "Hello? Who's calling?"

Evelyn's fingers trembled as she gripped the phone. She steadied her breathing and responded in flawless Solterran. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Winslow. Do you recognize my voice?"

Agatha Winslow gasped audibly. "Is that... Isabella?"

"You remember." Relief flooded Evelyn's veins.

She'd spent days tracking down the orphanage director's number. The real Isabella Grayson had registered her social media account under the director's name years ago.

If Evelyn truly was Isabella, they would have spoken often by phone. It was a gamble that paid off.

Agatha's voice cracked with emotion. "How could I forget? My dear child! Where have you been these three years? Are you well? When you vanished without word, I feared the worst..."

Several attendees understood Solterran, their eyes widening at the conversation. Yet skepticism lingered in their sideways glances.

The impostor calling herself Isabella paled dramatically, her assistant's face turning sheet-white beside her.

Evelyn cut in gently. "I'm well, Mrs. Winslow. But tell me - why can't I access the orphanage's public account anymore?"

"That wasn't me!" Agatha exclaimed. "Someone hacked it - this fraud using your name to scam donations! I wanted to expose her but lacked proof."

"I understand. Thank you." Ending the call, Evelyn addressed the room in Aldenrian. "Many of you understood that conversation. This number is publicly listed on Solterra's orphanage website - feel free to verify."

The fake Isabella lashed out desperately. "Your husband commands Aldenria's military! He could easily pressure someone to lie for you!"

Evelyn's expression hardened. She'd hoped to resolve this peacefully, but this woman kept dragging Liam's name through the mud. No more mercy.

Her gaze turned glacial. "Enough theatrics. The truest proof lies in skill. With so many art experts present, why don't we settle this with a live painting demonstration?"

"Exactly!" Cassandra Blake and Gregory Lynch chimed in. "Let your talent speak for itself!"

Before the impostor could respond, Richard and Eleanor Blackwood directed staff to set up two painting stations with fresh canvases and supplies. Their faith in their daughter-in-law shone through.

Tears pricked Evelyn's eyes at their unwavering support.

"The one refusing to paint is clearly the fraud!" Cassandra shouted, sparking a chorus of agreement from reporters.

Livestream viewers skyrocketed into the tens of thousands.

"Who's the real Isabella Grayson?" reporters asked their audiences. "Comment your guesses while we await their artwork!"

The impostor's face drained of color as she scanned the sea of expectant faces - reporters, the Blackwoods, art appraisers. Cornered, she began sweating visibly.

Beatrice Thornton patted her shoulder with false confidence. "Even if Evelyn can paint, she's just copying others. Show everyone who's superior."

The challenge hung in the air like a guillotine's blade.