Chapter 44

Evelyn could only gaze at Liam with helpless confusion. Her stunning eyes shimmered with uncertainty and unease.

Liam felt his heart liquefy under her vulnerable expression. He never imagined Evelyn's lost look could affect him so profoundly.

He stepped closer, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered.

"Evelyn, everyone here is family or close friends. Truthfully, no one cares about painting authenticity or technical skill."

"This is just a performance for Grandmother's enjoyment. What matters is showing your affection for her. Paint whatever feels right - the rest is unimportant."

His reassurance settled Evelyn's nerves.

"Do you know how to replicate paintings?" he asked gently.

"I suppose," she answered hesitantly. "Copying styles comes easily to me."

"Then recreate one of Isabella's works," Liam suggested. "The displayed piece is a reproduction anyway."

Resigned, Evelyn selected a brush and dipped it in ink.

Her free hand glided across the paper in three deliberate strokes, fingertips caressing the surface with practiced care.

"Look!" someone exclaimed. "She's mimicking Isabella's preparatory ritual exactly!"

The crowd divided - some watched with rapt attention, others with barely concealed schadenfreude. A few guests remained engrossed in their conversations as piano music wove through the hall.

After studying "Ode to Autumn" intently, Evelyn made her first decisive stroke.

Artistically-inclined guests gasped. Her technique revealed extraordinary mastery - each movement precise, each stroke intentional.

Once begun, Evelyn never lifted her gaze again. Her hands moved with muscle memory, requiring no conscious thought for pressure or stroke width.

As she accelerated, the audience's astonishment grew. Some rubbed their eyes, disbelieving the emerging masterpiece.

Several guests pulled out phones, comparing Evelyn to streaming videos of Isabella Grayson at work.

Evelyn remained oblivious in her creative trance, unaware of the growing murmurs.

Liam observed silently, captivated by her focused beauty. In this moment, she radiated the irresistible magnetism of true talent.

"Holy hell!" someone shouted. "She is Isabella Grayson!"

"The mannerisms! The technique! Only Isabella could replicate this perfectly!"

"Check the video - both have that distinctive mole on their right hand!"

"Three years since her disappearance... They said she might be dead. No wonder her paintings skyrocketed in value."

"To think Isabella would be this young and breathtaking..."

Meanwhile, Victoria and the Blackwoods stood speechless, frantically comparing videos to Evelyn's performance.

The more they scrutinized, the more undeniable the truth became.

Evelyn painted until completion, automatically adding Isabella's characteristic poetic inscription and signature.

As she set down the brush and finally looked up, the sea of stunned faces sent panic coursing through her.

She turned to Liam desperately.

His furrowed brow and shocked expression twisted her stomach. Had she embarrassed him with poor work?

Before she could process the thought, several art enthusiasts rushed forward, eagerly introducing themselves with awestruck admiration.